With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

Migs stared at Jun-Jun, his mouth slightly agape. He opened it, closed it, then opened it again, seemingly searching for a response that could adequately capture the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of "zero-gravity halo-halo."

"Zero... gravity?" Migs finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. "Jun-Jun, we just survived EDSA, police pursuits, two questionable vehicle acquisitions, and a city-wide snack distribution event. My adrenaline levels are probably toxic. Can we maybe... aim for something slightly less... atmospheric for our next activity?"

"But Migs, think of the possibilities!" Jun-Jun leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with the manic energy Migs knew all too well. "Imagine! Floating spheres of leche flan! Ube ice cream that you have to chase with a spoon! Shaved ice forming temporary, beautiful nebulae before melting on your tongue!" He clasped his hands together. "It's culinary exploration! Pushing the boundaries!"

"It's a mess, Jun-Jun! A sticky, floating mess!" Migs countered, picturing ingredients splattering against capsule walls. "How would you even keep it together? You'd need, like, edible space helmets!"

"Edible space helmets!" Jun-Jun slapped his knee. "Brilliant! See? You're getting into the spirit of innovation! We could commission a food scientist! Patent the design!" He immediately pulled out his phone again. "Let's see... 'Zero-G flight Philippines'... 'Rent astronaut suit'... 'Food scientists specializing in non-Newtonian dessert physics'..."

"Jun-Jun, stop!" Migs pleaded, reaching across the low table to put a hand on Jun-Jun's phone screen. "Let's just... breathe. Can we just enjoy the fact that we are currently safe, indoors, and not being chased by Captain Reyes for five minutes?"

Jun-Jun looked momentarily surprised, then his expression softened slightly. "Oh. Right. You're probably tired." He put his phone down, though his fingers still seemed to twitch with the urge to Google 'private space station rentals'. "Sorry, Migs. Got carried away. The halo-halo must have been extra inspiring."

"It wasn't the halo-halo, Jun-Jun, it was the near-death experiences," Migs sighed, sinking back into the uncomfortable sofa. "Look, I appreciate the... enthusiasm. Really. But maybe tomorrow's grand plan could involve something simpler? Like... going to a movie? Ordering pizza? Activities that don't require bribing officials or purchasing transportation fleets?"

"Hmm," Jun-Jun considered this. "A movie... pizza... sounds a bit... pedestrian?" He wrinkled his nose slightly. "But I suppose a quiet evening could be... relaxing." He didn't sound entirely convinced.

Just then, Mang George reappeared, materializing as silently as ever. "Sirs, dinner is served in the main dining hall, if you are ready."

"Excellent!" Jun-Jun jumped up, his momentary lapse into potential normalcy forgotten. "Lead the way, Mang George! Migs, come on! Steak awaits!"

Migs hauled himself wearily off the sofa and followed Jun-Jun and Mang George through a series of minimalist corridors into a dining room that could have comfortably seated thirty people. A long, polished black table dominated the center, currently set for only two at one end. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a tranquil, artfully lit garden and swimming pool.

They sat down, and almost immediately, silent staff members began serving the meal. Perfectly cooked ribeye steaks, truffle mashed potatoes, asparagus spears tied with chive ribbons. It was elegant, expensive, and expertly prepared.

"So," Jun-Jun said, cutting enthusiastically into his steak. "Aside from the minor traffic incidents and vehicle acquisitions, what did you think of the halo-halo itself? Worth the trip, right?"

Migs took a bite of steak. It was, predictably, delicious. "The halo-halo was excellent, Jun-Jun. Five stars. Would recommend. The journey, however, gets maybe one star for sheer survival."

Jun-Jun laughed. "Constructive criticism! I like it! Maybe next time we'll streamline the process. Armored personnel carrier, perhaps? Clearer flight path for the money-drop helicopter?"

"Or," Migs countered firmly, "a Grab?"

"You lack vision, my friend," Jun-Jun sighed dramatically, though he was smiling.

Mang George approached the table quietly. "Sir Jun-Jun, an update. The legal team has issued the standard 'no comment' and is handling media inquiries. The large fruit basket is en route to Captain Reyes's precinct, along with a preliminary consultancy offer letter drafted as per your instructions."

"See?" Jun-Jun gestured with his fork towards Mang George. "Efficiency!"

"Furthermore," Mang George continued, unfazed, "I have arranged for the retrieval of the sedan from the EDSA impound lot tomorrow morning – it seems Officer Santos managed to leave it in a tow-away zone after following you. It will likely be scrapped as suggested. The Panaderia de Manila has been contacted; they are... perplexed but amenable to compensation for their truck and lost inventory. They may also wish to discuss unauthorized use of their brand in what news outlets are calling 'Operation Pandesal Freedom'."

"Offer them a generous settlement!" Jun-Jun instructed cheerfully. "And maybe throw in some free advertising on my... hmm, need to buy a media company... anyway, tell them we'll sort it out!"

"And the party bus, sir?" Mang George inquired.

"Ah, yes! Excellent vehicle!" Jun-Jun reminisced fondly. "For now, just finalize the purchase of the Sparkle & Shine Car Wash. Give Leo a promotion to manager. And tell them to keep the bus extra clean; I might need it again. Maybe for that zero-G trip? Could modify it..."

Migs choked on his mashed potatoes. "You're not serious."

"Relax, Migs," Jun-Jun grinned. "Mostly kidding. About modifying the bus, anyway. The zero-G halo-halo is still under consideration."

They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and the distant hum of Makati city life filtering through the garden. It was a pocket of impossible calm after a day of relentless chaos. Migs found himself actually relaxing, the sheer luxury and Jun-Jun's unwavering nonchalance creating a bizarrely soothing effect. It was easier, he realized, to just accept the absurdity than to fight it.

"This Kopi Luwak gelato is actually pretty good," Jun-Jun remarked later, savoring a spoonful of the ridiculously expensive ice cream Mang George had served for dessert. "But honestly? Still prefer Aling Nena's ube."

"Some things money can't buy, I guess," Migs ventured.

"Maybe," Jun-Jun conceded, tapping his spoon. "Or maybe I just haven't offered enough money yet. Perhaps I should buy the Kopi Luwak farm? Streamline production?"

Migs just sighed and finished his water. Dinner was over. The immediate adventure had concluded. Now came the challenge of extracting himself from Jun-Jun's orbit before his friend decided they should immediately charter a submarine to find rare deep-sea pearls to garnish their breakfast cereal.

"Well," Migs said, standing up carefully. "Thanks for the... eventful day, Jun-Jun. And the dinner. But I should probably head home. Get some sleep. Try to forget the flashing lights."

Jun-Jun looked up, genuinely surprised. "Leaving already? But we haven't even planned our deep-sea pearl expedition!"

Migs held up a hand. "Tomorrow, Jun-Jun. Let's maybe aim for brunch? Somewhere with readily available parking? And no helicopters?"

Jun-Jun considered it, then shrugged. "Okay, fine. Brunch it is." He stood up. "Need a ride? I could call back the taxi convoy?"

"NO!" Migs said quickly. "No, thank you. I think... I think I'll take my chances with Grab this time."

Jun-Jun grinned. "Suit yourself. Mang George, please arrange a Grab for Sir Migs. And maybe give the driver... say... a fifty thousand peso tip upon arrival?"

Migs didn't even protest this time. He just nodded wearily. A P50k tip for a Grab driver suddenly seemed like the most normal thing that had happened all day.