With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

The air around the Panaderia de Manila truck crackled with a sudden tension that even the lingering sweetness of pandesal couldn't mask. Jun-Jun's offer – a cool million pesos each for a police escort – hung in the humid Quezon City air, seemingly sucking the oxygen out of the immediate vicinity.

Captain Reyes, the MMDA officer whose sunglasses seemed permanently affixed, stared at Jun-Jun. His face was unreadable, but the tightly clenched jaw suggested something other than pleased acceptance. Beside him, PO1 Gomez and PO1 David exchanged wary glances. They'd dealt with traffic violators, petty criminals, even the occasional artista throwing a tantrum, but never someone who offered million-peso bribes as casually as handing out flyers.

"One million pesos..." Captain Reyes repeated, his voice dangerously low and even. "To escort you? Sir, do you have any idea how many laws you are currently breaking?"

Jun-Jun tapped a thoughtful finger against the truck's steering wheel. "Let's see... Causing a public disturbance, probably? Obstruction of traffic, definitely. Unauthorized use of a commercial vehicle? Maybe operating a bakery without a permit, technically?" He shrugged. "Sounds like fixable problems. And bribery, I suppose, though I prefer to think of it as 'expedited service facilitation fee'."

"Bribery of public officials is a serious crime, sir," PO1 Gomez interjected sternly, resting a hand near his service weapon. "Along with reckless imprudence, possibly inciting public disorder..."

"Exactly! Sounds expensive," Jun-Jun agreed cheerfully. "Which is why I'm offering you gentlemen a shortcut! Think of the paperwork you'll save! One million each, straight to Cubao, no fuss, no muss. We can stop for coffee on the way?"

Behind the officers, Jun-Jun spotted Officer P. Santos trying to blend into the background near Jun-Jun's abandoned sedan. Santos was sweating buckets, his eyes darting nervously between Jun-Jun and Captain Reyes. The P800,000 Jun-Jun had given him earlier felt like a lead weight in his pocket, broadcasting guilt. Don't look at me, don't look at me, Santos chanted internally.

Captain Reyes ignored Jun-Jun's offer of coffee. "Sir, I am ordering you to turn off the engine, step out of the vehicle, and place your hands where I can see them. You are obstructing traffic, you have admitted to bribery, and frankly, you are causing a menace." He gestured to the surrounding scene – the lingering crowds, the scattered pandesal wrappers, the hired performers now awkwardly trying to look inconspicuous, the hovering news helicopter. "This circus ends now."

Jun-Jun sighed dramatically. "Arrest? Oh, that sounds terribly time-consuming. Migs will be furious, the halo-halo will be completely liquid by then." He looked genuinely troubled. "Are you sure one million isn't enough? How about one point five? Each?"

"This isn't a negotiation, sir!" Captain Reyes snapped, his patience clearly evaporating under the heat and absurdity. "Gomez, David, prepare to apprehend!"

The two police officers moved forward, hands ready. The crowd gasped. The news camera zoomed in tighter.

Jun-Jun held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay! No need for force! Obviously, my generous financial incentives aren't appealing to your strong sense of civic duty. Admirable! Truly." He paused, a new idea dawning. "So, let's reframe this. This wasn't bribery. This was... performance art!"

Captain Reyes blinked. "Performance... art?"

"Yes!" Jun-Jun declared, grabbing the megaphone again, seemingly forgetting the police officers poised to drag him out. "ATTENTION, PEOPLE OF EDSA! YOU HAVE JUST WITNESSED A SPONTANEOUS ART INSTALLATION TITLED 'CAPITALISM AND CARBS IN CONGESTION'! IT WAS A STATEMENT ON..." he floundered for a moment, "...on the ephemeral nature of wealth and the unifying power of free bread! Thank you for participating!"

He beamed at the officers. "See? Art. You can't arrest art."

Captain Reyes looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. "Sir, get out of the truck now, or we will remove you by force!"

"Alright, alright, tough crowd," Jun-Jun conceded. He still didn't move to get out. Instead, he looked past the officers, towards the crowd that was watching, captivated. "Okay, citizens! New plan! Since the authorities are being... artistically unappreciative... how about some direct democracy?"

He raised the megaphone again. "EVERYONE WHO THINKS I SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO PROCEED TO CUBAO FOR A VERY IMPORTANT HALO-HALO MEETING, SHOUT AYE!"

A confused murmur went through the crowd. Then, a few tentative "Aye!"s were heard, mostly from people still munching on free pandesal.

"NOT LOUD ENOUGH!" Jun-Jun bellowed. "EVERYONE WHO SHOUTS AYE GETS... UH... ONE THOUSAND PESOS! FIND ME LATER!"

Suddenly, a roar went up from the crowd. "AYE! AYE! AYE!" People were cheering, whistling, pumping their fists. The lure of P1,000, even a vaguely promised future P1,000, was enough to sway public opinion dramatically.

Captain Reyes and his officers looked taken aback by the sudden surge of popular (if financially motivated) support for Jun-Jun.

"See?" Jun-Jun said smugly through the megaphone. "The people have spoken! Let the bread truck pass!" He then added in a slightly lower voice, just for the officers, "And maybe consider that escort fee again? Call it... hazard pay for dealing with overwhelming public approval?"

This was too much for Captain Reyes. "That's it! Gomez, David, get him out!"

But as the officers reached for the door handle, Jun-Jun quickly started the truck's engine with a roar, making them jump back. He didn't drive forward, however. He leaned on the horn – not just a simple honk, but a long, continuous blast. Then he started fiddling with the radio, turning the volume up full blast, blasting a ridiculously cheerful K-Pop song out into the chaos.

"IF I CAN'T DRIVE THROUGH," he yelled over the music, "WE'LL HAVE A PARTY!"

He spotted the vendors he'd bought out earlier, looking lost with their now-empty baskets. "VENDORS! COME BACK! NEW JOB! DANCE PARTY MANAGERS! TEN THOUSAND PESOS EACH TO ENCOURAGE FESTIVITIES!"

The scene threatened to devolve completely. Police officers trying to make an arrest, a rich lunatic orchestrating a roadside rave from a bread truck, a crowd chanting "Aye!" for cash, street performers uncertainly resuming their act, K-Pop blasting, and a news helicopter capturing the glorious pandemonium.

Suddenly, Captain Reyes's radio crackled. He listened intently, his expression hardening. He spoke briefly into it, then turned back to Jun-Jun, holding up a hand to Gomez and David, pausing their attempt to breach the truck.

"Alright, Dela Cruz," Reyes said, his voice tight with controlled fury. "You win this round. Not because of your 'art' or your bribes, but because Command just called." He gestured vaguely upwards. "Apparently, some 'very important person' is stuck behind this mess you've created further back, and they want EDSA cleared immediately. Orders are to expedite your removal, one way or another."

He sighed, clearly hating what he was about to say. "We will escort you off EDSA at the next available exit. No detours, no Cubao, just off the main road. Then you deal with the consequences. And turn that ridiculous music off!"

Jun-Jun's eyes lit up. Progress! Not exactly Cubao, but closer! "Excellent! Cooperation! See? We just needed some higher intervention!" He immediately cut the K-Pop. "My apologies for the decibel levels. So, escort it is! About my earlier offer regarding compensation for your trouble...?"

"Don't push it, Dela Cruz," Reyes growled. "Just drive. Slowly. Follow my lead." He signaled to his men, who reluctantly positioned their motorcycles in front and behind the bread truck. Officer Santos, looking immensely relieved yet deeply conflicted, quickly got back into Jun-Jun's sedan to follow, presumably to ensure it wasn't completely abandoned.

With a final wave to the bewildered crowd (many of whom were likely wondering about their P1,000), Jun-Jun put the Panaderia de Manila truck into gear. Under police escort, horns blaring (officially, this time), the strangest convoy ever to grace EDSA began to slowly, painstakingly crawl forward, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, confused performers, and shattered regulations in its wake. The halo-halo was still miles away, but Jun-Jun felt he was finally getting somewhere. Now, about that next exit... and how to reroute back towards Cubao from there...