It was a morning like any other for Mr. Big. He woke up, stretched, yawned, and squeezed his flannel balls while trying to remember the names of the women in the his bed. He was bored and even the view overlooking the sea from his mansion on the cliff, the easy availability of shapely women, his golden toilet bowl or the State of Emergency didn’t excite him any more. Life was a bit too easy he thought with foreign exchange flowing into holes in his back yard like water from a busted water main. He was even running out of backyard space just like the Central Bank was running out of foreign exchange.
Mr. Big went to the kitchen and was happy to see the newspaper on the kitchen counter. He poured himself his morning fix of freshly ground and brewed Colombian Coffee and started to read. He chuckled as he saw again that several people, including key politicians knew who Mr. Big was but somehow they never managed to call his name in public or say it to the police. Of course, they wouldn’t call his name as they were on his payroll even if not directly. What was more important to Big was that the politicians knew who was in charge. Mr. Big had so many people from all walks of life on his payroll, he had to use a computerized payroll system and hired some honest accountants to manage it.
Mr. Big was just like God – he was everywhere but yet never seen, but if you closed your eyes long enough and said his name over, and over you might even see his image on a bolt of cloth, a brown paper bag or a foreign-used car engine. Sometimes Mr. Big wondered if he was real or a figment of the imagination of a nation that preferred to buy pirate DVDs than a book. He often speculated why people thought he was so powerful and yet local. The inability of the authorities to even come close to capturing him made him feel like a small Big. Surely, Mr. Big thought, if he was that big and powerful and notorious, and for so long the Almighty Americans would nab him, just as they did to a certain ruthless terrorist in a certain ruthless country. Some even say Big’s real name is Keyser Soze. “WTF!” Big would say every time he heard this. “The Usual Suspects!” he would add before rolling on the floor with laughter.
“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist. And like that… he is gone.” ~ The Usual Suspects