With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

"Sir," the voice on the other end of the line from News Central sounded strained, like someone trying to maintain professional composure while juggling angry cats. "You want us to patch you through to Chopper 7... currently broadcasting live over EDSA... because you have a 'proposition'?"

"Exactly!" Jun-Jun confirmed, craning his neck to look up at the news helicopter hovering above his bread truck like a noisy, metallic dragonfly. He could just make out the cameraman adjusting his lens. "Think of it as... sponsored content. Extremely live, extremely relevant sponsored content."

"Sponsored content involving... free pandesal distribution and traffic obstruction?" the voice asked, dripping with incredulity.

"And soon, hopefully, traffic resolution!" Jun-Jun corrected brightly. "Come on, patch me through! Time is money! Well," he amended, glancing at his perpetually full backpack, "time is halo-halo, which is arguably more important right now. How much will it cost to get a direct line to the pilot and cameraman? Say, five million pesos for a five-minute chat?"

There was a distinct choking sound, followed by muffled shouting in the background at the news station. Jun-Jun idly watched the street performers he'd hired; their initial energy was flagging slightly under the relentless Quezon City sun. The crowd's attention, initially captured by the music and juggling (and the sheer weirdness of it all), was starting to drift back towards impatience or simply wander off, pockets stuffed with free bread. Operation Distraction needed a boost.

"Sir," the voice came back, sounding slightly breathless. "Putting aside the... unprecedented nature and ethical complexities of your request... five million pesos for a five-minute phone patch?"

"Is that too low again?" Jun-Jun frowned. He really needed to get a better handle on market rates for interrupting live news broadcasts. "Okay, ten million! Final offer! Plus, I'll give your crew hazard pay! Another million each for the pilot and cameraman? They're working hard up there!"

More muffled shouting, more intense this time. Jun-Jun checked his side mirror. Officer P. Santos was now sitting on the curb, head in his hands, his uniform looking rumpled and defeated. The pile of bribe money Jun-Jun had tried to return still lay near his feet, ignored. He looked less like an officer of the law and more like a man contemplating a drastic career change, perhaps becoming a hermit.

Suddenly, a new voice crackled onto the line – rougher, tinged with the static and wind noise from altitude. "Uh... News Central, this is Chopper 7 pilot, Mang Danny. You serious? You got the... uh... the pandesal guy on the line?"

"Yes!" Jun-Jun exclaimed, delighted. "Mang Danny! And Mr. Cameraman! Jun-Jun Dela Cruz here, reporting live from the Panaderia de Manila truck! Big fan of your aerial shots!"

"Boss Jun-Jun," another voice, presumably the cameraman, chimed in, sounding younger and more excited. "Grabe, sir! Epic 'tong ginagawa niyo! (What you're doing is epic!) What's the proposition?"

"Simple!" Jun-Jun grinned, leaning back in the driver's seat. "I need your help clearing a path. Two parts. First: Use your external speakers – you guys have those, right? Like the police choppers? – broadcast a message."

"Broadcast what, sir?" Mang Danny asked cautiously.

"Something like: 'Citizens of EDSA! This traffic jam is officially sponsored by Jun-Jun Dela Cruz! Please clear a path for the Panaderia de Manila truck heading towards Cubao. Free sodas and possibly small appliances for random cooperative drivers later! Also, Jun-Jun says hi to his friend Migs, who is patiently waiting for halo-halo!'"

There was a stunned silence from the helicopter, broken only by the rhythmic whup-whup of the rotors.

"Sir... we're a news helicopter, not a flying billboard... or a personal messaging service," Mang Danny said slowly.

"Everything's a flying billboard if you pay enough!" Jun-Jun countered cheerfully. "Which brings me to part two! I need you to do a... let's call it a 'targeted air biscuit delivery'."

"Air... biscuit delivery? Sir, ano po 'yun?" the cameraman asked, bewildered.

"Money! I need you to drop money!" Jun-Jun explained patiently. "Not too much, don't want to cause actual riots, just... enough to get people really excited and maybe move towards the money... which you will strategically drop away from my intended path! Like luring fish with bait! Let's say... bundles of five hundred peso bills? Maybe ten million pesos worth? Scattered?"

This time, the silence was profound. Jun-Jun could almost hear the gears grinding in the minds of the pilot, the cameraman, and likely everyone back at the news station listening in. Ten million pesos... dropped from a helicopter... as a traffic-clearing tactic.

"Boss..." the cameraman finally whispered, awe and terror mingling in his voice. "Alam niyo po bang live tayo nationwide? At saka... bawal po 'yun! Hulog pera sa helicopter?!" (Do you know we're live nationwide? And... that's illegal! Dropping money from a helicopter?!)

"Details, details!" Jun-Jun sighed. "Okay, how about this? Twenty million pesos for the broadcast message and the 'air biscuit delivery'. Plus the hazard pay. That's... twenty-two million total? Consider it operational expenses!"

Before Mang Danny or the cameraman could formulate a response – likely involving multiple violations of aviation law, company policy, and common sense – a new element entered the fray. Sirens. Not just one, but several, growing rapidly louder. Red and blue lights began flashing in the distance, reflecting off the stalled vehicles.

"Ah," Jun-Jun observed calmly. "Reinforcements."

He looked in the bread truck's mirror. Several MMDA motorcycles, followed by a police mobile patrol car, were somehow weaving their way through the outer edges of the chaos he'd created. They were heading directly towards him. Officer P. Santos saw them too, scrambling to his feet and quickly, almost guiltily, pocketing the bribe money from the ground before straightening his uniform, a mask of beleaguered authority snapping back into place.

"Mang Danny! Cameraman!" Jun-Jun spoke urgently into the phone. "Gotta speed this up! Offer expires soon! Twenty-five million for the announcement and the money drop! Yes or no?"

"Sir, the police are here! We can't..." Mang Danny started.

"Opportunity, Mang Danny! Not obstacle! Announce my generous offer while the police arrive! Think of the ratings! Think of the sheer Filipino telenovela drama of it all!" Jun-Jun insisted.

The lead MMDA officer, sporting impressive sunglasses and an air of authority undimmed by the heat, pulled up alongside the bread truck. He cut his engine and dismounted, followed by two police officers who looked ready for anything except, perhaps, airborne cash distribution.

"Driver of the bread truck!" the MMDA officer barked, tapping sharply on Jun-Jun's window. "What in the name of Quezon City traffic ordinances is going on here?!"

Jun-Jun rolled down the window, offering a winning smile. "Officer! Just engaging in some creative traffic management and spontaneous community outreach! Care for a pandesal? Oh wait, I'm out." He paused. "But I can offer you... a consultancy fee?"

He held up his phone. "Hang on, Officer, just finalizing a deal with News Chopper 7. Mang Danny, final answer? Thirty million pesos! Announcement and money drop! Go!"

"Sir, hindi pwede! Orders from station! Abort! Abort!" Mang Danny's panicked voice squawked from the phone before the line went dead.

Jun-Jun sighed dramatically. "Philistines. No appreciation for innovative logistics."

He turned back to the stern-faced MMDA officer and the two police officers now flanking him. "Okay, gentlemen. Looks like air support is offline. So, new plan. How much to escort me to Cubao?" He reached for his backpack. "Let's start the bidding at one million pesos each?"

The MMDA officer stared, his jaw tight. One of the police officers subtly loosened the strap on his holster. The crowd murmured, sensing a new chapter in the unfolding street drama. The news helicopter continued to hover, capturing the impending confrontation. Jun-Jun just smiled, ready to negotiate. The halo-halo was waiting, after all. And he had all the money in the world to get there.