With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

The air on EDSA, usually thick with the acrid tang of diesel exhaust and despair, now carried a new, dominant scent: the warm, slightly sweet aroma of freshly baked pandesal. Jun-Jun, perched heroically in the driver's seat of the commandeered bread truck, surveyed his domain. Operation Pandesal Freedom was in full swing, and the results were... mixed.

On one hand, the sheer, unadulterated joy sparked by free food was palpable. People were momentarily forgetting the sweltering heat and the soul-crushing gridlock. Drivers leaned out of windows, catching bags of rolls tossed with surprising accuracy by Jun-Jun. Passengers from buses and jeepneys had disembarked, forming eager crowds around the truck. Even a few motorcycle riders had parked precariously close, holding out helmets expectantly. Shouts of "Pahingi pa, boss!" (More please, boss!) and laughter momentarily replaced the angry chorus of horns.

On the other hand, the plan's core objective – clearing a path – was proving problematic. While some vehicles had nudged forward slightly as drivers reached for bread, the influx of pedestrians converging on the truck was creating a new, denser form of blockage. It was less a traffic jam and more a spontaneous, bread-fueled street party directly in Jun-Jun's path.

"See, Officer Santos?" Jun-Jun yelled cheerfully over the happy din, using the still-active megaphone. "Bread! The great unifier! Look how happy everyone is!"

Officer P. Santos, standing amidst a sea of discarded pandesal wrappers near the abandoned sedan Jun-Jun had arrived in, looked anything but unified. He looked like a man witnessing the collapse of societal order, one bread roll at a time. The news helicopter hovered persistently overhead, capturing every chaotic, crumb-filled moment. He briefly considered trying to direct the bread-seekers, maybe form an orderly queue, but the sheer scale of the cheerful anarchy overwhelmed him. He felt a headache blooming behind his eyes, powered by stress and the relentless afternoon sun. Someone bumped into him, pressing a warm pandesal into his hand. He stared at it for a long moment before sighing and taking a bite. It was surprisingly good.

Jun-Jun, meanwhile, was facing a logistical hurdle. The racks in the back were starting to look sparse. "Uh oh," he muttered, peering into the cargo hold. "Running low on ammunition." He estimated only a few dozen bags left. The crowd, sensing the dwindling supply, seemed to press in closer.

His phone rang, shrill and insistent. He fished it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID: "Migs - HALO-HALO EMERGENCY!!!". He answered, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear while trying to aim a bag of pandesal towards a hopeful-looking taxi driver.

"Jun-Jun! Talk!"

"Migs! Pare! Guess what? I bought a bread truck!"

There was a pause on the other end, filled with what sounded like strained breathing. "...You what?"

"Yeah! Long story. Anyway, EDSA traffic, you know? So I figured, free pandesal for everyone! Genius, right? Should be there soon!" Jun-Jun tossed another bag. Bullseye! Right into the taxi driver's lap.

"Jun-Jun," Migs' voice was dangerously calm. "I've been waiting for two and a half hours. My halo-halo has melted into a sad, sugary soup. The ice cream is weeping. There's a news report on the cafe TV showing some lunatic in a Panaderia de Manila truck causing a riot by throwing bread on EDSA. Please, for the love of Ube, tell me that's not you."

"Oh! They got me on TV?" Jun-Jun sounded pleased. "Nice! Tell them my left side is my better side. Anyway, the bread plan is hitting a snag, running low. But don't worry, I have backup ideas!"

"Backup ideas? Jun-Jun, the backup idea should have been taking the MRT! Or leaving the house yesterday! What are you going to do now, buy an airplane and parachute into the cafe?"

"Ooh, not bad, Migs, not bad! Add it to the list!" Jun-Jun chuckled. "Gotta go, pare, crowd's getting restless. See you soon! Order me the special!" He hung up before Migs could unleash the torrent of Tagalog curses Jun-Jun knew was brewing.

Right, backup ideas. The bread was almost gone. The path was still blocked, perhaps even more so now by happy, carb-loaded pedestrians. He scanned the vicinity again. His eyes landed on a group of street performers who had been working the traffic further back – a couple of jugglers tossing worn-out pins, and a guy with a beat-up acoustic guitar singing melancholic OPM ballads.

"Perfect!"

Jun-Jun grabbed the megaphone again. "ATTENTION EVERYONE! THE BREAD IS ALMOST GONE! BUT DON'T DESPAIR!" He honked the truck's surprisingly loud horn for emphasis. "WE HAVE... ENTERTAINMENT!"

He pointed towards the performers. "YOU THREE! THE JUGGLERS! THE GUITAR MAN! COME HERE! URGENT JOB OFFER!"

The performers, used to being ignored or shooed away, looked startled. They cautiously approached the bread truck, dodging bread-seekers.

"How much do you guys make on a good day?" Jun-Jun asked, leaning out the window.

The guitarist, a lanky guy with hopeful eyes, shrugged. "Maybe... eight hundred pesos? Kung swertehin." (If we're lucky.)

Jun-Jun didn't even reach for his backpack this time. He pulled out a thick wad of thousands from his pocket, peeled off fifty bills, and handed it to the guitarist. "Here's fifty thousand pesos. For the next hour, you work for me. Your job: Perform! Loudly! But slowly move that way!" He pointed vaguely in the direction of Cubao. "Draw the crowd with you! Create a path for the bread truck! Bonus if you can make up a song about pandesal and traffic!"

The performers' jaws dropped. They looked at the money, then at each other, then back at Jun-Jun as if he were a kapre (tree giant) offering magic beans. The guitarist clutched the cash. "Fifty... thousand? To... sing?"

"And juggle! And move the crowd!" Jun-Jun confirmed. "Go on! Operation Distraction!"

Galvanized by the insane amount of money, the performers sprang into action. The guitarist launched into a surprisingly upbeat, improvised tune about the absurdity of EDSA life, weaving in mentions of free bread. The jugglers started their routine with renewed vigour, adding flips and tricks they probably hadn't attempted in years, slowly shuffling away from the truck in the designated direction.

It worked, partially. A portion of the crowd, intrigued by the sudden concert and juggling show (and the rumour of a rich crazy guy handing out P50k), began to follow the performers. It wasn't much, but it thinned the human wall directly in front of the truck.

"Progress!" Jun-Jun declared, putting the truck into gear. He managed to inch forward a few feet, the crowd parting slightly more for the lumbering vehicle than they had for the performers alone.

He saw the original bread truck driver standing by the roadside, talking animatedly on his phone, likely to his boss. Jun-Jun gave him a cheerful wave. He then noticed the water and mani vendors looking utterly dejected, their potential customers either distracted by the free bread or the impromptu concert.

Feeling a pang of... well, not guilt, but perhaps economic sympathy, Jun-Jun grabbed the megaphone again. "HEY! VENDORS! DON'T WORRY! ALL UNSOLD WATER AND PEANUTS TODAY, MY TREAT! CONSIDER YOURSELVES BOUGHT OUT! JUST... HELP CLEAR THE WAY A BIT?" He punctuated this by tossing another P10,000 towards the nearest stunned mani vendor.

He had moved maybe ten feet. Progress was slow. The performers were doing their best, but they were drawing as many people sideways as they were forward. He needed something more.

He looked up. The news helicopter was still there, hovering like a metallic vulture. An idea, even more audacious than the tow truck or the bread truck, began to form.

He found the frequency for the news station easily enough online. He dialed, using the truck's hands-free system.

"Good afternoon, News Central, how may I direct your call?"

"Hi!" Jun-Jun said brightly. "Put me through to your helicopter crew flying over EDSA right now! Tell them the guy in the bread truck wants to talk business!"

There was a confused silence, then some muffled discussion. "Sir... are you the individual causing the... pandesal incident?"

"The one and only! Operation Pandesal Freedom! Listen, I have a proposition for your chopper crew..."

He could see Officer Santos in the side mirror, rubbing his temples, looking utterly defeated. The discarded bribe money was still on the ground near him. Jun-Jun honked the bread truck's horn again, a long, cheerful blast that scattered a few pigeons and made several nearby people jump. This halo-halo was going to be the most expensive, most chaotic dessert in Philippine history. And he hadn't even gotten off EDSA yet.