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  "I didn't, but I do now," replied Boss, who was turning red with embarrassment.

  "It's not that big of deal, really," said the Duke. He turned to Tom and said, "Go find Milton a replacement pair of slacks."

  "Right away, your Dukedom," said Tom as he hurried away to do the Duke's bidding.

  The Duke of Winterfield walked over to where Boss was sitting and flopped down beside him on the couch. After getting comfortable, the Duke said, "We should have had supper in here. This couch is much better than a booth. Oh well, live and learn as they say.

  So, what do you think, Milton? Did that booty rock your world?"

  "It was definitely an experience I won't soon forget," answered Boss.

  "Do you think I should take a turn? Meaning the chick, whom you just soiled?"

  Boss's first instinct was to protect the girl, who'd just rode him like a wild bronco. But then, self-preservation kicked in, and he saw no advantage in helping the woman. After all, she'd threatened to sic her baby daddy on them both.

  "You'd probably like it, but she did threaten to kill us."

  "She threatened you?" asked the Duke, sitting up straight.

  "I can't remember her exact words but it was something like, 'my baby daddy gonna blow you both away,' or something like that. I don't put much stock in her threat."

  "True," said the Duke as he settled back down. "But we cannot be sure. What if she has a cell phone stashed away somewhere in here? What if she has already called her baby daddy?

  If you had brought this to my attention earlier, we might have gotten by with only killing her. Now, lots of people have to die, and they'll all be on your head."

  The Duke snapped his fingers and a dark figure emerged from the shadows. The mysterious man asked, "May I be of service your Dukedom?"

  "Yes, we need to have the stripper, who was riding Milton earlier, killed along with all her 'baby daddies'. Also, lets kill the fat skank who rode me, all her 'baby daddies', and the same for the first one I dry humped earlier this evening."

  "Excellent, sir," said the dark figure.

  "Where's the bathroom?" asked Boss, getting to his feet. "I think I'm going to throw up."

  "Left of the main entryway, by the cashier's desk," said the Duke as Boss held a hand over his mouth and ran for the bathroom.

  After Boss was out of hearing range, the dark figure asked, "Are you actually allowing him into the NWO? I only ask because I need to line the trunk with more plastic if he isn't."

  "There's no need for that, turns out, he's perfect. At first, I had my doubts, but now... I know that he'll take to the life like a duck to water."

  "That's great news, sir.... But as far as eliminating all those people, it’s going to take some time, sir. These particular types of mouth breathers are the hardest to track down. They're usually not on the grid."

  "Then you had better quit talking and start searching," commanded the Duke. The mysterious man walked away without uttering another single word.

  In the bathroom, Boss almost puked his guts out. Just when he thought there couldn't possibly be anything else left in his stomach, there was. Supporting himself against the sink, Boss ran cold water over his face. He tried to regain his self-composure.

  Boss had people killed before. Undercover corporate spies, blackmailers, kidnappers, employees who were on the verge of shooting up the workplace, they were all deserving of death.

  But a stripper, who'd bump and grinded him to completion, why did she deserve to die? And what about her past lovers who hadn't even threatened him yet? What about all of those children who'd be left without a mother or a father?

  To the right of the sink that he was leaning against was a condom machine. The sight of it, made Boss laugh. "Why not laugh?" he thought. "Nothing in this world is making any sense."

  The Duke's secretary burst though the bathroom door at that exact moment. Over one arm was draped a pair of dark trousers with a belt already fitted through its belt loops. "I believe these are about your size, Boss," Tom said.

  "Where'd you get a pair of slacks at this time of night?" asked Boss, as he wiped away some water dripping from his face with the back of his hand.

  "They were the manager's pants at this particular establishment. I think you and he are about the same size."

  "And he just dropped down his pants and gave them to you?"

  "Yes, of course," said Tom. "Why don't you take off your trousers, and I'll have them laundered and returned to you, ASAP."

  Forgetting that the whole building had been thoroughly cleaned, Boss eased out of his pants while keeping his shoes on. He didn't want other guys' spunk on his socks and then inside his thousand dollar shoes.

  "Tom, may I ask you a question?" asked Boss as Tom was fussing with the crease on his borrowed pants, much like a butler would.

  "Of course, sir. I'm here to serve."

  "Do you ever feel like you've fallen through the looking-glass? Because I feel like this whole thing is one bad, drug induced, trip."

  "If I may be so bold, sir, as to say you are looking at this all wrong. The life you used to know was the illusion. An illusion designed to give the common folks a reason to go on living.

  Your eyes have now been opened, and you see the world as it really exists. Once you embrace this truth, the world will be right again."

  Boss thanked Tom for the advice and pants then rejoined the Duke of Winterfield on the couch in the champagne room.

  Chapter 20

  "Are you ready for round two?" asked the Duke.

  "No, sir, I'm not. But if you say so, then bring on the strippers."

  "If you weren't saturated with artificial sweeteners and colorings and GMOs (genetically modified organisms) plus millions of free radicals, you would be able to screw all night long. And without any help from your brain altering, hard-on pills. But your body will detoxify in due time.

  Do you know how to fire a semi-automatic 9mm pistol, Milton?"

  "I could probably figure it out, but no, I've never actually fired one. Unless you count plastic ones in video games."

  "Shit," said the Duke as he pulled a nickel-plated pistol from in-between the couch cushions. "Do any of the men have a revolver on them?" asked the Duke to another man, who was standing in the shadows.

  "I think Charley carries a .38 in his ankle holster," replied the man in the dark.

  "Fine, take this one away and grab the .38 for Milton," said the Duke. The man went away to do as Duke commanded.

  "The thing about a semi-automatic is that they have a tendency to jam at the most inopportune times," the Duke said to Milton, who was sitting next to him. "Now the revolver, while a bit old fashioned, doesn't jam. You only get six shots, but if you need more than six then you're pretty much fucked anyway."

  A man walked over to the Duke and presented him with a revolver. The Duke took the gun and checked to see that the safety was on. It was, he leaned over to Boss and said, "Look at this."

  The Duke switched the safety to the 'off' position and then to the 'on' position several times. "Keep the safety on at all times unless you intend to shoot someone. Got it?" asked the Duke as he handed the pistol to Boss.

  "I got it," said Boss. "But why do I need a gun?"

  "For shooting marauding bums in the head with, of course.

  I've decided to break you down, in order to build you up in my patronage. Starting tomorrow morning, I'm going to decimate your companies. Then my flunkies at the I.R.S. are going to steal away all your worldly possessions.

  By this time tomorrow night, you and your family will be homeless, friendless, and borderline hopeless."

  "Sir, your Dukeship, there's no reason to do that. I swear on my mother's life that I'll be loyal to you."

  "I believe you, Milton. But imagine how happy your family will be when I restore your wealth. The hard times will only last for a couple of days. But the tons of digital money that I'll add to your bank accounts, after this is all over, will change your reality."
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  Knowing that he had no choice in the matter, Boss said, "Whatever you say, Duke Winterfield."

  "Now you're getting it," said the Duke. "Whoever said that you can't teach an old dog, new tricks, was full of shit."

  Boss, the Duke of Winterfield, and his army of bodyguards left Slutty Teasers. They took an armada of armored limousines to a convenience store near Boss's mansion. Men in dark suits wearing sunglasses and two-way communication earpieces soon overran the small store.

  The Duke and Boss shopped for canned food, which would last through Boss's two forced days of homelessness. Like most rich people, neither had any idea of how much food to buy for a family of five to make meals for two days. It was like handing a wad of money to a couple of monkeys then sending them into a store to shop. The rich man and the richer man placed at least two months worth of food on the cashier's counter.

  The convenience store cashier must have had some ownership in the store because he was happier than a hog in mud. The Duke instructed the cashier on the proper way to bag groceries and referred to him as 'shopkeep'. Looking at the massive amount of canned goods, candy, cookies, bottled colas, and disposable lighters, which they'd purchased, Boss thought they might have gone a little overboard.

  A quarter of a mile away from Boss's mansion, sat an overgrown patch of woods. The Duke had the fleet of limousines stop and ordered that the convenience store haul be hidden within the thick brush.

  While they were waiting, the Duke said, "Tell your family to enjoy the junk food because it's the last they'll ever have. But they won't miss it. Natural foods have better flavor and

  make you feel better. We'll start your family on a diet of real food after I give you, your little empire back."

  "Yes, sir," said Boss who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  The Duke's personal limousine stopped outside of Boss's front door. Boss stepped out and the Duke said, "Remember, if you can survive for two days without going mad, and I'll reward your family handsomely."

  "Yes, Duke Winterfield. Thank, you," said Boss as the chauffeur closed the Duke's door then hurriedly drove away.

  Esmerelda was laying on a couch in the living room, watching a television show on a giant, flat screened TV, when Boss entered the room. "What took you so long?" asked Esmerelda without looking up.

  "It's a long story. You wouldn't believe it anyway, so I'm not going to tell you," said Boss as he flopped down in a recliner.

  "Those aren't the same pants you had on this morning. Care to explain yourself?"

  "Look, first off, how in the hell did you notice that? Secondly, we've got bigger problems than me pissing my pants."

  "Why did you pee your pants?"

  "Can I get a minute? Please!"

  "Rough day?" asked Esmerelda getting up and walking over to where Boss was trying to rest.

  "You have no idea.... Where are the kids?"

  "Ruby and Emerald are in their bedrooms sleeping. Diamond is in Russia."

  "What's he doing in Russia?" asked Boss.

  "Probably, a blonde," answered Esmerelda as she brushed Boss's hair with her hand.

  "Esmerelda the standup comedian. I kind of like it.... Will you get him on the phone for me?"

  Esmerelda took out her phone, which was never far from her hand, and called Diamond. Diamond picked up his phone after it had rung four times and said, "Hello."

  "Hi, baby," Esmerelda said. "Hold on, your dad wants to speak to you."

  She handed her phone to Boss, who said, "Diamond, get your ass back here as soon as humanly possible."

  "What’s up, pop?"

  "There's no time to explain. You just get to whatever airport you left my plane at, and tell the pilot to fly you home. It's an emergency."

  "Is everything alright?" asked Diamond.

  "Of course, it's not alright. Didn't I just say it was an emergency? Now, hang up the damn phone and get back here," said Boss, and he clicked off his wife's phone.

  For the first time in his life, Diamond was worried about his father. Boss was always strong and in charge. But on the phone, his father sounded upset, even borderline frightened. Something was definitely wrong.

  The young, Russian tennis star, who had long, luxurious, blonde hair and was built like a pole dancer, asked Diamond, “Everything is OK?"

  "No, something has come up, back home. I've got to run. We'll continue this next time I'm in Russia."

  "When will you return, lover?" asked the tennis star.

  "As soon as I can," replied Diamond as he started stuffing his gym clothes into a knapsack.

  "If you stay a little longer, I'll let you have me, right there on the tennis court," said the blonde knockout.

  Diamond turned to look at her as he was putting a sweatshirt into his backpack. The sexy lady had pulled up the back of her skirt, revealing her pink, thong underwear. Her hinny had attained the type of perfection that can only be attained through years of running and lunging.

  Stopping in his tracks, Diamond said, "Well... maybe I can spare ten minutes."

  "Nyet!" scolded the tennis star. "You give me solid hour of sex or no sex for you."

  Dropping his backpack, Diamond walked over to the hot blonde, grabbed her butt roughly and said, "They can live without me for another hour." And then they made mad love on the tennis court beside the net.

  "You have to tell me what's going on," Esmerelda said to Boss. She was standing over him with her arms folded.

  "I would, but I think it's best that you don't know," replied Boss. "You're just going to have to trust me. I'm doing what's best for this family.... Do I have your full support?"

  After pacing back and forth for a minute, Esmerelda said, "I guess so. But you'd better know what you're doing. And I expect you to explain everything to me as soon as you can."

  "Thanks, babe," said Boss. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy that he was married to her.

  The next morning arrived too soon, and the bad news started pouring in. Boss and his family hadn't even made it to the breakfast table when everyone's phones started ringing off the hook.

  Boss had over forty percent of his assets invested in a small African nation that was overflowing with oil. News broke overnight that all foreign investments in the country had been nationalized. All the blood, sweat, and tears, which Boss had put into reshaping the nation into a twenty-first century powerhouse, had just gone up in smoke.

  All the banks that had dealings with Boss, cancelled his lines of credit. Suppliers refused to deliver products to his companies, and distributors refused to take delivery of his products. Organized cyber attacks had brought down his computing networks.

  His wife and kids were beginning to panic, but Boss was calmer than a monk in a temple made of steamed, white rice. Boss looked at his watch and decided it was time to call Diamond, again.

  "Hello," answered Diamond.

  "Where are you at?" asked Boss.

  "Hang on, let me ask the pilot," answered Diamond. He returned to the phone a moment later and said, "We are almost over a city in Mississippi called Gulfport."

  "Your time is up. Tell the pilot to land in Gulfport."

  "What is going on, father?"

  "I'll let you know when this is all over. You need to land and find a cheap hotel where you can hole up for a couple of days.... Do you have any cash on you?"

  "I've only got like two hundred bucks."

  "That's enough. Your bodyguard will fly back with the pilot. You take a taxi to the closest, cheapest hotel near the airport.

  They haven't cancelled all our credit cards yet, so maybe you can charge your room to a card. If not, then you'll have to pay cash and use the card as a guarantee.... Being poor is hell."

  "Are we poor, now?"

  "For the next couple of days, we're poorer than a field mouse in a fat kids' camp.

  Just keep out of trouble. I've got to go. Your mother and I will come get you when this all blows over. Goodbye and good luck."

  Bo
ss had just gotten off the phone when a security guard, who was patrolling the grounds, called to warn that black SUVs had broken the perimeter. Like jackbooted thugs, the I.R.S. agents didn't bother knocking at the front door. Instead, they burst through the door using a handheld, steel battering ram. The servants went scrambling for cover, as the agents lobbed smoke grenades into rooms and hallways, indiscriminately.

  The Hopenhammer family had gathered in the kitchen to wait for their uninvited guests. Boss had thrown together some sandwiches just as the agents burst in.

  "Nobody move, this is a raid!" screamed an I.R.S. agent decked out in full body armor.

  "Would you like a sandwich, officer?" asked Boss.

  "Put down the butter knife, or I'll shoot!" screamed the I.R.S. agent.

  "Easy there," said Boss as he placed the butter knife on the counter. "We are going to fully cooperate."

  "You don't get to cooperate, punk!" yelled the agent, who aimed her rifle from person to person. "You get to subsist."

  "Don't you mean we get to submit?" asked Boss's young daughter, Ruby. "If we were subsisting then you'd be the one having a weapon pointed in your face."

  "Hey, shut up!" yelled the body armored, tax collector.

  Boss and his family were summarily thrown out of their house and kicked off of their land. But not before their phones, money, watches, and jewelry were confiscated. So, they started walking down the road toward Duke Winterfield's stash of canned goods.

  Esmerelda wanted to contact her sister, and ask if she would pick them up and stay at her house for a few days. But Boss wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that they weather this storm, alone, as a family.

  Ruby was dismayed at having to walk along side the road like homeless people, which they technically were. Emerald didn't say a word as his mind feverishly worked on a solution to their financial woes. Esmerelda voiced her annoyance with Boss, but decided to go with the flow, for a while.

  Unlike his family, Boss found the whole experience of being broke... liberating. Phones weren't ringing because they had no phones. People weren't trying to sell them something because they had no money. They didn't have to be anywhere at any set time, and they had all day to get there. It was the most relaxed that Boss had been in years.