FLASH FICTION AND SHORT STORIES: MY WORKS

• A GRANDPA'S STORY

• THE LAST LETTER

• DIVERGENT

• ROCKING NIGHT

• CENTRAL PARK CAFE

• THE MAGNIFIC

A GRANDPA'S STORY

Somewhere in Alabama, an old man decided to tell a story to his grandchild. A peculiar one that goes back to 1960—when he was a mid-teen experiencing his first love.

“Freya Bonenfant, Oh! How I came to be with her? With Freya…Bonenfant? She was a foxy lady. Her dazzling steps, tantalizing eyes, cherry lips and soft skin, were the reason I couldn’t resist to flirt with her. Of course, her shiny black hair, brown eyes and her angel face, cached my entire attention.”

Sitting beside his grandpa, the child was immerse in a flowing river of wonder.

“How to forget?! Our first kiss was in a cinema. The lights went off and we watched a romantic movie. She and I thought it was entertaining; not so the several people that were quickly leaving the place. In the end we saw the movie alone; holding hands. Magical, hmmm hmmm, yes it was.”

The old man mannerism was comedic for the child. His stories never disappointed anyone; to the point of blurring the line between reality and fantasy. With a natural eloquence, he continued, “After that night, the following day we decided to spend time in the zoo, downtown. It was pleasant to always be with her; although, that day the animals sounded weird as hell. I almost thought they were talking. For example, a bear I enjoyed to view, said something like: Growlma...gosh!. The lion of the zoo: roaaaar-ew! Then the chimps, who were throwing bananas at us, crazily shouted: hoo-hooo sheit! Hoo-hooo sheit! I neither forget the howl of the wolves: ahh-ooooohhhh-way! Ha! Strange day I tell you. Hehehe, only in bama.”

“Peepaw, peepaw! Did you married her?” The child asked.

“Your meemaw is the only woman I ever married. Now son, hold the horns, I’ll tell you what happened a couple of months later,” The old man replied. “Every public place we went to, turned into a ghost town. Within minutes people always started breathing deeply and dry heaving. God damn! Each place was crowded, then empty, in a blink of an eye. One day I decided it was time to introduce her to my parents; despite my intuition telling me otherwise.” He paused and stared blankly at the floor. The child called him out.“Grandpa?” Weary, he kept going.

“I remember consulting with a friend of mine. He only told me: 'bless your heart, Emmett'; then grabbed a flowers of his momma's garden and beg me to smell it. Truth is, it was smell-less for me. Boy, my friend laughed hard when I told him so. After he came back to his senses, he said in reality the flowers smell is terrible; like an infernal mix of cat pee, rotten oranges and gasoline. I asked him what that has to do with Freya. Boy, what I heard get me mad as all get out. He straight up said she smelled worst than a skunk. Obviously I unfriend him, for then apologize after the D-day. Hmmm hmmm, the D-day.” The child didn't grasp the slang.“What D-day peepaw?” With a warm smile the old man told his grandson. “You’ll know. Pay attention, kiddo. Listen up.”

“A week passed. I was still mad at my friend, however, I kept calm with Freya. She was such a sweet girl, until…We went into a store to buy some Coke in what appeared to be a shining day. The store owner railed at us: 'Oh God; get out of my store! My goodness, take a shower! Geez, I just…I gotta sit for a second'. It couldn’t be me he was referring to; I’ve always took care of my hygiene. My parents taught me to shower two times a day, and from what I knew: Freya was hygienic. Thing is, Freya lashed him like a hurricane lashing a coast. Boy, she pitched a fit at the owner. For the first time I felt alarming goosebumps.”

Giving a closure, the old man added. “Son, that was the D-day; the day our relation ended, like a last sip of moonshine for a drunken man—if that makes any sense. For unknown reasons she broke up with me. My plan of introducing her to my parents went downhill. According to rumors: she dropped from school and ran away with a motorcyclist who was passing by. Boy, boy...Well, I do declare that if she wouldn’t have dumped me, your grandma and I wouldn’t have met.”

In the front porch where they were at, a hypnotic smell of pecan pie inadvertently spread and sneak into the nose of the child. He was all ears when he heard direct from the kitchen that load voice of his grandma. “Time for lunch!"Between giggles his grandpa answered, “I can smell that BBQ!” Playfully, his grandma answered back. “You can’t even smell your armpits, Emmet!” He replied, “I can at least see what I am eating!”. She had the final say. “I can at least smell the pie I just baked!”

That was it; both, grandpa and grandson went in to taste the delicious pie, made with the kung fu cooking skills of a blind grandma.

THE LAST LETTER

At 72 I’ve lived enough. Before I leave this world, I need to explain—or attempt to explain—what I saw decades ago, when I was a 28 years old, captain of a fishing vessel.

My crew and I were all young, with an important experience as fishermen. Each one of us followed our families tradition—deeply bond to the fishing industry—from an early age. The Caribbean Sea wasn’t only our provider of successful fishing’s; it was a second home I knew like the back of my hand. Occasionally we traveled from our sunshine state to The Bahamas. It was the usual trip.

For been the captain: I guarded the ship before passing the command to the first mate. Night of August 2, 1978 wasn’t any different. We were heading to the north east of Bimini, Bahamas; in the ship I named after an aunt who died years back. Precisely that night I saw something that left me bemused, while listening on the radio: a Yanks-Sox game. It appeared out of nowhere, a few miles ahead of the ship. Can’t say exactly what it was. I can only describe it like a lambent sphere emerging from the deep sea.

What I view with my binocular didn’t made any difference. I still couldn’t identified the object. Believe it or not I forgot I had a coffee pot to empty and cigars to smoke. Whatever was happening had me wrapped.

Within a short time span, a thick fog started to cover the fishing vessel, and the sphere—which was moving up, and blazing. I tried to establish communication with nearby ships; although the emergency transmitter wasn't responding. The compass was neither working; it madly spun—without direction. Also, mysteriously, the radar turned off—is when I abruptly passed out.

I don’t remember anything else. By the time I woke up, I was near the coast of Newfoundland and Labrador, in Canada. It never made sense to my crew and I. Approximately it would take us 5 or 6 hours to reach there, from our original location. Regardless of the distance, we reached in 20 minutes. No one knew how; all of us were unconscious.

Son, don’t ask me for logical explanations, I have none for what happened back then. The only thing I can assure, is that I’ll soon see your mother again. I know I could have send you a text message—not that I didn’t enjoyed all the chats and video calls.

Personally, I believe that in an old fashioned letter there is more to say from yourself, than what you’re willing to admit, online.

Pardon me for not letting you know about the terminal end stage of my heart disease. You’re for sure happy, living in Brazil with your wife: Vanessa. Can’t say anything else, than: you’re a lucky bastard! Both of you makes a perfect match.

Love you,

Your stubborn dad

DIVERGENT

In Millennium Park, Chicago, a guy take a stroll with his sister, who became paraplegic after surviving a horrific car accident. They previously visited Lurie Garden. When they were on their way to Crown Fountain, an unusual fellow appeared, walking near them. “Look at that guy, he walks funny as shit”. His sister was daydreaming. She couldn’t help but think how her life would be if the accident never happened. Even though her brother was talking to her, she seemed absent, holding on to her wheelchair.

ROCKING NIGHT

His cellphone bleeped, a heart popped out from his Instagram account. A comment followed, “ Hey, man, wyd?” He…Was hugging tight his puffed pillow; snoring like a Snorlax—that Pokemon creature you should know about—, he…—Craig Screamer, a heavy metal musician in his 20s—made tornadoes out of his snores. The curtains of his room were dancing with the grace of a blanket lifted up by a heavy wind. Until a noise woke up Craig, who eyes went wide open.

Just when he was near to dreamland again, a noise altered his senses. Shaky, he said to himself.“Sweet Jesus, the two Mary’s and the Bible ghost”. With a rush of adrenaline he took a hockey stick and became nimble to his surrounding.

Carefully he exited his room and looked down the steers. One step, two steps, tree, four…Steps! After four steps down a shadow passed in front of his eyes. A shadow! Passed in front of his eyes, and the guy…I mean: Craig, shit his pant—kidding.

Bravely he screamed, “Who is there! I swear I’m going to kill you if you don’t get the fuck out of my property!”. Noises started to be heard. They were coming from the kitchen. “Clink!, Clink!, Ping!, Ping!, Crash!”. Craig stood still and slowly walked to the kitchen. No one was apparently there, but he saw broken glasses on the floor; broken plates, and the brand new jar of honey he so wanted to taste in the morning: on the floor! It wasn’t any honey spilled, on the floor! It was a high quality honey he bought in British Columbia.

Thinking that the intruder was hiding, he burst, out of anger; hitting the kitchen table with his hockey stick—shouting repeatedly. “I…Am not afraid of you! You Wasted my honey! I am not afraid of you!”

Under the table something touched his feet. Craig immediately screamed like a loony, waking up the entire neighborhood, in middle of the night. He almost fainted, when he heard, “Meaaaowww.” It couldn’t be no one else than his cat: Loki. Craig’s eyes were bursting in tears, his tense hands gradually lose off the hockey stick. From his face a glow of relief, emerged.

Loki disappeared an entire week. The cat reached back home, demanding his food and his water. “Meaaooowwwww!”

CENTRAL PARK CAFE

Mixed feelings

Two friends meet at a cafe, near Central Park, in New York City. Occasionally they meet there to discuss different topics. At one point they started talking about women.

“Women’s are whack, but I fucking love them. Can you imagine a world without a woman?” His friend said, “No, I can not. At least not the same way as you do”. Both laughed loudly. That’s when a nostalgic question popped out. “Do you remember, Lexi?” Silence permeated the relaxed atmosphere for few seconds. An uneasy answer overcame the muteness. “I do! You and her were best friends. Things wouldn’t have worked between us. I never felt attracted to women of her race, na’mean?”

Fearful hope

During a rainy Saturday morning; chilling in the cafe is Tara and her teenage daughter, Sydney.

“We are still the 'all alone' customers. Ready to go home?” Her daughter quietly said, “Mom, can I ask you something?” Tara immediately thought she was having issues with her boyfriend.

“It's about Nick? Are you both doing OK?”

Sydney implored her mother to not spread the news. “Please don't tell anyone. You have to promise me.”

Baffled, Tara calmed her down. “Darling, I need you to tell me what's going on. It's only us, here.”

Holding tight her coffee cup, Sydney revealed everything. “Pam is pregnant. I told her to come over. Her parents don't want to. They think she should have the baby. To make things worse: her State banned abortion a day before doctors confirmed her pregnancy.”

Afflicted, Tara hugged her daughter, with flashbacks of when her grandma narrated horrid anecdotes.

Broken

“Tío ¿Qué le sucedió a mi papá en El Salvador?” His uncle ignored him, while checking the menu. Anxious by his uncle reluctance to answer the question; he insisted, “What happened to him? Why can't I know?”

Frigidly his uncle left the cafe and went to the parking lot, spending time alone, until he found him smoking in the car. Concerned, he apologized, "Sorry about that. I have no idea what you and my mom went trough. De verdad necesito saber lo que pasó.Celi pregunta por él. Frankly, I don't even know what to tell her anymore.”

That day his uncle confessed the secret, brokenhearted. “Your father was betrayed by one of our cousins, days after your grandma, your mother and I managed to escape from that hell. In Mexico a credible source told us that our cousin guided the military to a hiding spot—where your father was at. He didn't survive. I am done, let's visit your grandma. I bought her a white carnation bouquet.”

Wake up call

“I joined an NGO,” said Chadwick Washington to his brother, Anthony.

Anthony couldn't believe what he heard.“Say what? You're telling me you'll give up your good ass job opportunities for a NGO?” Chad responded, “I know I could have worked for a multinational and be better off than most people from our block. Tony, I'm going to Africa.”

Bothered, his brother replied, “Man, what you gonna do there? Save the world? Bro, you trippin'. Think straight, you don't need to prove yourself.”

Chadwick explained his reason. “Beyond Morehouse, there's a responsibility I am assuming.” Finishing their coffee they went separate ways, in the city that never sleeps.

Old times, new times

“We'll close in an hour,” a waitress told a businessman who was sitting with a comrade in the cafe. They were brothers in arms throughout the Iraq war. Fourteen years ago was the last time they saw each other, in Fort Hamilton.

“I guess this is it. Thanks for inviting me to this place. I'll go look a shelter; I don't wanna keep on the streets tonight. Can you help me out with ten dollars?”

Driving on his way home, the businessman read an advertisement. “God Save Us All.”

THE MAGNIFIC

San Francisco, California

SFBC-TV headquearters

“Blau, blau, blau! Hello, San Francisco. Oh wow, time pass fast. Ever heard of jetlag? Ha! Lame joke, I know. My beloved audience, I have bad news, ugly news and good news. The bad news is...I am almost bald. 'S.O.S hair transplant needed!' What's the ugly news? Folks, I've been in this show for thirty years, there's no way...Sorry, hmmm...Like I said, is not easy. I am leaving the show many of you have watched over the years. Thanks for your overwhelming support and thanks to SFBC, 'San Francisco Broadcasing Corporation,' for the space given and for adopting me as part of the family. 'Don't you dear say I was ruthless!' People, the awesome news is that I will be on...UrSub! Very soon. Now going back to the show, tonight we'll have an intimidating actor who'saround 'four feet tall,' and the rapper of rappers! XYChrono.”

Mission District, San Francisco

In a shadowy, reduced apartment, an aspiring comedian watches one of the last shows of the legendary comedian and showman: Ned Blau. Been faithful to the show, he covered his bedroom walls with Ned Blau posters. Nothing ever stopped him from sitting down in the same armchair, in which his mother watched the show. The armchair remained intact, the cheap quality curtains—covering his room windows—collected annual layers of dust. His kitchen table was the same rugged wood table he remember from early age, all together with the cracked indigenous ceramic pottery his mother bought in Venezuela—in her prime.

While watching the show, he heard right away his sister complaints, from the bowel of her room. “Ron! Do I have to remind you what time it is? Please take down the TV volume, I can't sleep. It's really late”. She sounded drained. In response, he said, “come on! I'm watching one of Ned Blau last shows.” For her, every Sunday night was a discussion with Ronnie, who enthusiasm skyrocketed with his favorite show—SundayMoonLive with Ned Blau. After keeping quiet for a while, she yelled at him with ferocity. “Go to bed! We have debts to pay!,” She then closed her eyes and calmly implored to her brother. “Ron...Ronnie, listen to me once. I don't want you to lose your job, I don't want to lose neither the only job I got. Please.” Grumbling he went to bed, recognizing his sister reasons, although in disagreement with having to stop watching his favorite TV show.

A few weeks later 'SundayMoonLive' was over. Millions of viewers saw the last transmission of the program from the comodity of their haven. It was historical. Ned Blau lived 30 years in the heart of numerous american families. Ronnie watched the show till the end, without the interruption of his sister pungent voice. The apartment was clean as a new pin—for Ronnie it was a special day. He cleaned up the apartment and covered his armchair with a red sheet he bought for the occasion, while his sister was partying with her friends. Naturally, Ronnie felt like an Olympian god sitting on a throne—all alone—, striking thunderous laughter's from Ned jokes; talking to a life size standee of the comedian and host. Every time his sister was out—shopping or with her friends—he talked to the standee. Sometimes to pretend he was part of Ned show and sometimes to release his demons.

When SundayMoonLive was over, Ronnie started swiping websites on his cellphone, hoping to find fresh news of Ned Blau. He did it at work and at his apartment. For Ronnie, Ned Blau carrier couldn't end there. That impulse to know what was going on with Ned, eroded his work performance. Couple of days after the show came to an end, Ronnie was fired from his workplace—a cafe located in Mission Street. An increasing abuse of his free time enraged the owner of the cafe, who wanted to fire him long ago. It didn't happen before, due to an ulterior motive: Ronnie mom was the godmother of the owner. The owner of the cafe admired her, to the extent of giving Ronnie a job opportunity.

Once more: Ronnie was jobless, heading home, facing the sunset as the incessant car traffic passed near him. Walking steadily, with a ghostly look on his face, he saw a couple of workers putting down a billboard that cheered him up. Moving to them, he shouted, “That billboard is priceless! You should leave it there!” The workers laughed at him. A worker replied, “If only every show was eternal!” Fervently he shouted back.“That show surely will!”

Several blocks later he finally made it to his apartment. For Ronnie surprise, his sister was there waiting for him. She received a notification from Ronnie's ex boss—who is one of her best friends. Again, Ronnie was fired and his sister was forced to look for another job.

Entering the apartment, she gave him an ultimatum. “Find another job or I'll leave this apartment.” With her crossed arms and lioness eyes, she added, “I'll not stay here forever. Stop living in a fantasy world, Ron. There is more to life than your favorite show and this god damn district.” Ronnie didn't admit any fault. “Let me talk, are you gonna let me talk? I did not get fired for that dumb reason they gave you. She wanted something with me but she's not my type. Whatever she told you, don't believe it.” Not having anything else to say, his sister rubbed her neck, looked up and reminded him. “We have debts, don't forget.”

Days passed and Ronnie didn't find a job yet. Bored, he started using CheerIt—a social media app—, taking part of a 'SundayMoonLive' fan page community. There he searched information about Ned Blau, finding nothing more than an online friend—a guy who identified himself as McPanda101. Every single day after seeking for a job in the city—in middle of the melting summer—he logged in at night to the app, from his bizarre room; tracking new information and passing hours chatting with his online friend.

Months later, Ned Blau inaugurated his UrSub account—an online video sharing service. Countless viewers were seen Ned, trough livestream; sending him messages, hearts, kisses and hugs. Ned was back, in a UrSub channel called 'NedLiveShow'. Obviously, Ronnie was informed. The fanpage he belonged to, published the recent news with the headline: 'NED BLAU IS BACK!' Ronnie inmediately send him messages in the livestream—from a laptop his mother bought him, before she died of natural causes five years ago. He never knew who was his father. Ronnie and his sister were raised by a single mother who gave everything for the welfare of her children. Somehow, Ned became his inspiration to be a comedian—his role model was now online. Viewing him trough a laptop or cellphone, was a dream come true. The TV was of no use anymore; it became dusty like the cheap curtains of his bedroom.

By the time Ned Blau made his next livestream appearance, Ronnie was pressured more by his sister, although nobody wanted to higher him—despite his charisma and fascinating model aesthetic. San Francisco unemployment rate increased. He was one of many who were trapped in the unemployment spiral. Ned was aware of the situation the city was facing and decided to launch a comedy show contest, which price consisted of 10, 000 USD. Of course, Ronnie was up to date with the contest. For him it meant: destiny. That full moon night the contest was announced, Ronnie started practicing with his webcam; rehearsing what he thought was gonna be his sure appearance on the show. Counting days and nights, he rehearsed over and over, like a woodpecker pecking a tree.

When the day arrived, Ronnie send in his video recordings and the rest of requirements— to the email pointed out by Ned, during his last livestream. It was a golden opportunity. As time passed, Ned finally announced the 10 people that were gonna participate in the contest; mentioning the full name of the approved ones. Ronnie Botín wasn't one of them. Knowing that he wasn't selected, he send several personal messages to Ned, disapproving his exclusion; not knowing that Ned never took part of the selection—to avoid favoritism—, and that his emails were reviewed by a secretary.

Those messages never received a reply. Feeling insulted and ignored, Ronnie contacted his online friend from CheerIt; expressing anger. Under the nickname of: DMagnific28, Ronnie chatted with his buddy: McPanda101.

DMagnific28: “Ned didn't choose me!”

McPanda101: “Sorry about that, man. I warned you”

DMagnific28: “I thought we were good, u know? This can't be happening”

McPanda10: “Chill out. I got a plan”

DMagnific28: “What plan?”

McPanda101: “Let's go to another app. There I'll tell u”

The plan was to kidnap, Ned Blau. At first it was an insane idea, in Ronnie's opinion—but his ego was hurt and his pride was rampant. Throughout an entire week they planned the kidnap of the comedian and showman. McPanda101—been a hacker— and Ronnie a self proclaimed comedian.

McPanda101 was searching information about Ned Blau—his home adress, hobbies, places he visit, etc—; meanwhile Ronnie drived unnoticed, near Ned's home—In Presidio Heights neighborhood—using his sister car. Sneaky, he repeatedly followed Ned Blau and recorded his activities, till his office building—place where Ned appeared in his live streams with his working team.

Ronnie, and McPanda101—who revealed his real name: Brad— then agreed to meet in person at a Comic-Con gathering. Finding each other, they talked in secret and even planned to buy a gun. So it went. A Taurus TX22 was in their hands. Brad agreed to handle the gun. Without explaining why, Ronnie didn't wanted to handle it—however he was up to anything, just to appear on Ned's UrSub channel.

Couple days later, Ronnie and Brad decided it was time to push forward. Exactly that day the contest supposed to start. Both managed valuable information about Ned, but they didn't expect he was gonna drive down to San Bruno Mountain State & Country Park. Primarily their idea was to kidnap him in Buena Vista Park—where they thought he always went for jogging—in the early morning. Easily they tracked him, due to a Skytag; a small puck-shaped tracker, Ronnie accommodated between one of Ned Blau car wheels, when Ned left his car in a shopping mall parking lot, at night. Brad was the master mind behind the tracking and Ronnie the perfect spy for the occasion. Ignoring Ned reason to drive in direction to the mountain, they carefully followed him in a rented car and parked into a nearby area. Subsequently they began to follow him on foot. Brad had to take brakes—he was overweight. Ronnie had no problem, the guy was a machine.

Hiding behind a dark and quiet bushy trail, they waited for Ned, with their respective camouflage suits, and masks—a Spider-Man mask and an Einstein mask. Ned had no idea what was about to happen. Crossing a curve, he came across Ronnie and Brad; who jumped out of the bushes and pointed him with their handgun, ordering Ned to follow instructions and hush. “Don't say a word or I'll blow up your head. Do you understand?” Said, Brad, with a threatening tone. Ronnie, assured, “You should listen to him. He likes to blow things.”

“Ok, bro...That sounded weird.”

“Weird? Why?”

“Forget it, let's do this.”

Ned, froze and automatically followed their orders. Setting aside bushes he reached to their car, then asked, “Where are you boys caring me?,” Ronnie answered, “I would care you to Disneyland but you deserve Guantanamo, hah! Did you find that funny?” With tense eyes, Ned Blau made another question. “What did I do wrong?” Brad exclaimed, “Oi! Don't ask nothing! Capeesh?” Ned glanced at their appearance and imagined the worst.

When they were carrying him in direction to an abandoned building—in 1599 Harrison Street—, Ned hands were tied and his head was covered with a dark string bag. With difficulty he tried to maintain a grade of stoicism, not to show fear. On the road to their hiding place, Ronnie and Brad triumphantly avoided cops. They reached to the abandoned building and took in Ned. The building they used was a box factory that closed eight years ago.

Inside the building, Ned hands and foot were tied to a steel post, with a manila rope—the string bag was removed from his head and his mouth was covered with a gag; a device used in sexual bondage and BDSM role-play. Not a soul was gonna hear him, outside of the abandoned factory. Still wearing his jogging clothe and soaked with his own sweat, he tried to talk when Brad took his cellphone and hacked it.

Expecting the best, Ronnie explained to Ned his demand and Brad's demand. Ronnie wanted to appear on Ned's channel and Brad wanted to swipe out Ned's bank account savings. Knowing the contest was gonna start soon, Ronnie called NedLiveShow, from a disposable phone. Brad advised him a 1 minute call. Calling to the office a secretary answered the phone. “Hi, NedLiveShow, how can I help you?” With authority, he spoke.

“I want to speak with Ned Blau, manager.”

“Who is this? Can you give me your name?”

“I'm The Magnific. Pass me the manager.”

“Ha...I am sorry. Please stop the prank and don't call again.”

Thinking it was a prank, the secretary hanged up. Ronnie, called and insisted, “You think I am joking?” Quickly things escalated and the secretary roughly replied, “Excuse me? Look dumbass I dont have time to waste. If you call again I'll call the cops”, Ronnie went straight to the point. “Ned Blau is gonna be dead before the police ever find us, if you ignore me.”

The secretary stayed thinking, begged him a minute and called the manager. “Sir, a guy just called. He identified as 'The Magnific'. I don't know what's going on, he said he's going to kill Ned. Surprised, Ned Blau manager, replied, “Pardon me, what? When did you received that call?” The secretary shortly affirmed, “a moment ago. Sir, I'll pass him to you.” Her tone of voice shifted from bossy to submissive when she talked again to Ronnie.

“Mr. Magnific I am passing your call to the manager office, hold on a second.”

Exceptical, the manager answered and questioned, Ronnie. “Who is this? With who I am talking to?” Bursting into laughter's, Ronnie asked, “Didn't your secretary tell you?” he then added, “ I'm 'The Magnific' and you are gonna listen to me”. Still having doubts, the manager requested a prove. “I don't have why to follow your games. You said you kidnapped, Ned. Prove it.” Ronnie did as requested, extending the phone to Ned; after removing the gag from his mouth.

Heavily breathing, Ned begged, “Help! Two loon...” disappointed, Ronnie covered the phone with his hands, criticizing Ned. “Cooperate. You cooperate, you live, and I'll be on the show.” Trying to gain back his stoicism and the control of the situation, Ned advised his manager. “The guy wants to be part of the contest. Let him be part of the contest. I repeat, let him be part of the contest.” His manager was reluctant to the demand “. Are you serious? How we suppose to explain that the participants are now, eleven?” To confirm it was Ned Blau, he asked a very personal question. “How many rabbits did you own as a kid and what were their names?” Ned, chuckled and replied, “I never owned rabbits”. In that moment the manager realized, Ned was in real danger, therefore he followed his request and contacted the FBI. Pompously, Ronnie —identifying himself as The Magnific—,assured he was soon assisting to the contest.

In NedLiveShow corridors, gossips ran. FBI agents reached to the office building and decided to go under cover. Ronnie called again and said he was heading to the office. In the office, five of the ten original contestants were replaced by agents. To assure the agents anonymity and safety, everyone in the building was ordered to turn off their cellphone.

Little after, Ronnie arrived to the office building and gave in his full name: 'Ronnie Botín'. The secretary reviewed the list and told him he wasn't on it. She looked at him and whispered, "Are you The Magnific?" He winked at her and showed Ned Blau picture, with his cellphone. Shocked, the secretary swiftly called the manager. In less than a minute, Ronnie was handcuffed by the FBI undercover agents and interrogated in a basement.

Agent: “Sir, what's your real name.”

Ronnie: “My name is Ronnie Botin and I came to be part of the contest.”

Agent: “Tell us where is Ned Blau.”

Ronnie: “He's doing good with a buddy of mine.”

Agent: “What buddy?”

Ronnie: “Time is ticking. If I don't get on stage, Ned will be gone.”

Indecisive, the agents decided to go along with his demand and aloud him to participate in the contest. Although the manager wasn't convinced, he couldn't do more to help. Ned cellphone was located in The Golden Gate Bridge. There was no clue of Ned real location; so minutes before the livestream, Ronnie was put on the list. Meanwhile, when Ronnie was getting ready for the show—with his red smoking and polished black shoes— , Ned was with Brad the hacker, who commanded him to pass his bank account information. Bravely or stupidly, Ned refused to give up that info. Sensing he had a short span of time to do what he had to do, the hacker pointed the handgun at Ned's forehead; giving him a last chance to cooperate. Unwillingly, Ned started cooperating with Brad—who wanted money as much as the fame Ronnie was pursuing. In middle of the process: Brad was eating a burger and typing the information in a data base—sitting over a wooden box. Abruptly, he had a major heart attack. Grabbing his handgun and pulling the trigger, upward; the hacker collapsed, dropping over the solid concrete floor. Ned understood the gun wasn't real. It was a water pistol! But the last thing on his mind was the gun. Patiently he untied himself, exited the building and plead for help, in middle of the street—paralysing the traffic and receiving the astonishing looks of multiple drivers.

When the FBI agents decided to arrest Ronnie, he said his final words, struggling with the agents. “I followed my dream! I'm here!” Surprisingly the livestream became a sensation. Fame precede him, with people commenting online his appearance on NedLiveShow, and of what he did. Memes of Ronnie started circulating on the web. His sister was astonished. Out of nowhere he became part of the pop culture and people all over San Francisco, the US and the world, referred to him as: The Magnific; the man who kidnapped a famous public figure and became a celebrity.

Fame saved him from jail, with a presidential pardon. Showbiz magazines and TV channels turned Ronnie Botín into a phenomenon, loved and hated—nevertheless: admired.

Visit my blog for more

ONLY AVAILABLE ON: BLOG-ENG

©2022, G.D. Romill. All rights reserved