*phone buzzes on the nightstand.*

”0142.  No, I don’t care.  I am not answering.”  I mumbled.  I waited for the telltale tone the call went to voicemail.  No tone.

*phone buzzes on the nightstand*

”0148.  No.”  Still no tone.

*phone buzzes on the nightstand*

“Screw it.  What?”

”Dis Natalia mit UkrTelecom.  I give collect call from….”

The long pause is never a good sign. “STEVE SMITH”.

“Do you accept charge?”

“No.”

Heh. That wasn’t so hard, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

 

_____
…Later that morning

*phone buzzes on desk*

Hmm same number.  “Hello?”  I answered.

“Hullo, dis Natalia mit UkrTelecom.  I give collect call from…”  Very little pause this time.

”STEVE SMITH TASTE DEATH. EXHILARATING DEATH. BY TASTE DEATH, MEAN RAPE.   T-90 TANK RUN OUT OF FUEL ON WAY TO ODESA, TRY TO SHELL STEVE SM—”

”Accept charge, dah?”

”No.”

It is so much easier to ignore these calls when you refuse to pay for them.

_____
An hour later…

“So this beer is unusual in a number of ways.”  I began typing into my iPad later that morning.  “It is a Barleywine—from Trader Joe’s?  The concept is hardly foreign as Trader Joe’s does indeed sell beer, but it is certainly a rarity when they find a contract brewer willing to part ways with a project as expensive and cumbersome as a Barleywine and put someone else’s name on it.  This one doesn’t disappoint in more ways than one.  It is thick, nicely balanced but as a twist it uses hops typically found in grapefruit IPA, or at least I should say it had a bit of grapefruit on the backend.  Which isn’t bad.  The best part is the bomber cost $5.  Crackling Clapper Barleywine Ale:  4.3/5”

Another successful Saturday was in the pipeline.

*phones buzzes on desk, again*

”C’mon, really?”

“Hullo, dis Natalia with UkrTelecom.  I give collect call from…”

“—ITH RAPE TANK, RAPE COMMANDER, LEAVE CREW FOR DEAD WITHOUT PANTS IN RUSSIAN WINTER.  WHAT RUSSIAN FOR COME GET SO—“

”Do you accept charge?”

”Hell no.  STEVE has gone full Col. Kilgore.”

 

_____
…later that afternoon

*phone continues to buzz randomly on desk*

”Scam Likely.  Nope.”  I set the phone back down and picked up a slice of melon I made myself as a healthy afternoon snack.  Then I heard the telltale tone the call went to voicemail. “Goddamnit.”

”Mex.  This is Swiss.  I called in a favor with a business partner with StarLink so DO NOT HANG UP.  Lets just say that picture of Musk having his way with two skinned cantaloupes squished together continues to pay dividends…”

”Eeeeew. Fucking weirdo.” I said aloud.  I set my slice of melon back on the plate with the intent to throw it away.

”…STEVE SMITH attempted to set up a Cascadian Consulate in the wooded region northwest of Odesa.  He is hunkered down about 60 klicks outside the city.  He called me collect to send reinforcements.  A Soviet brigade identified him and engaged.  STEVE can pretty well take care of himself, but at some point the Soviet losses are going to tally up past the point where they can hide it.  He’s already raped 7000 Soviet soldiers and the locals are collecting the tanks…”


”Swiss you really got to get with the times, man.”  I said aloud.

“…I am presently in an undisclosed location in the Catalonian countryside.  A group of separatists agreed to assist in extracting STEVE from Ukraine in exchange for combat arms and experience.  As you well know, they’re Europeans and have never worked a rifle. I worked with a French arms dealer to acquire 300 Sig SG 550 Rifles but screwed me on magazines.  Prathiba will send you a CAD file to forward to Mad Scientist at his shop in Mexico to build 2400 magazines.  DO NOT PAY THAT CHEESE HATING HOOLIGAN.  We sent his typical payment of 30 cases of Mountain Dew and a carton of Unfiltered Camels.  Turkish Gold…”

”Good, I had no plans to pay him anything.”

“…We need you to acquire 150,000 rounds of 5.56 NATO from various local merchants…”

”What?”

”…preferably, don’t use the ones the Obama Administration payed off for Fast and Furious.  They’re on the grid.  Take the cargo to the municipal airfield in north Phoenix where Murdock will be waiting with the Swiss Corps private jet.  Its a Gulf Stream, its real nice.  He’ll take it to the Swiss Corps satellite office on the Turkish side of Cyprus, where we will launch the operation…”

“You would have an office on that side of Cyprus.”

”…$1/2 Million was sent to your Dogecoin wallet to pay for the ammunition, fuel, and um…Murdock requested tacos and flan from Barrio Queen for lunch.  I need this handled before Sunday...”

It then occurred to me I don’t have a Dogecoin wallet.  Even if I did I would have to pay capital gains to convert it to Dollars in order to pay for the ammunition.  Then my phone buzzed again with the tone for an email:


Damnit.