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Gentleman Johnny Germaine

Captain Enema

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Gentlman Johnny Germaine, owner, founder, and sole stockholder of Port Sudan Imports and Exports examines the merchandise with a critical eye. He thinks to himself, 'This lot looks tired and about on its last legs' as he walks slowly down the line. His hand firmly checks for firmness and probes for other flaws as he makes his inspection. Finally he turns to the owner of the establishment, one Madam Boullien of the Little Songbird School of Refinement, Temperance, and Chasity and says, "I'll take the two blondes on the end."

"300 hundred and hour for one, 500 an hour for both," the Madam says as she rubs her greedy palms together.

"Done," Gentleman Johnny replies as he slides 500 Sudanese Dongs out of his pocket and hands them to Madam Boullien. He motions for the two tired looking blonde girls and the follow them to a nearby room, or crib as the small room is known in certain circles.

"Sir, you'll have us wear our outfits?" one of the blondes asks.

"Nope, I'm in a hurry," replies Gentleman Johnny as he motions for them to set aside their school girl outfits.


Forty five minutes later, feeling much invigorated, Gentleman Johnny steps out onto the street. He scans the alley with his careful eyes before walking the short distance to his waiting car. He slides behind the wheel of his trusty little Ford Mustang and gooses the powerful engine to life. The rumble of the motor makes the care shudder as the horsepower is unleashed with the press of his foot on the accelerator. In the seat next to him is his business partner Ms. Sharlene Mbembe, a distant cousin of the President, who is pointedly ignoring Gentlemen Johnny due to her disapproval of his extra-curricular activities. Not that Gentleman Johnny cares, and he really doesn't give a damn about what people think of him.

He's a smooth operating, business savvy, ruthless sociopath who seeks only to fatten his wallet and please his carnal urges. Gentleman Johnny also stands out in Port Sudan for another very different reason. He's white as a bedsheet and related to Mad Dog Bob Denard via his father's side. Mind you the relationship goes back several generations, but as Bob's mother told Bob right before she forced Bob to change his mind about hanging Gentleman Johnny for war profiteering, "You can't hang family!"

"God bless you Mama Denard," Gentleman Johnnys says as she steers the car towards his warehouse.

"Mama Denard should have let Bob hang you," mutters Sharlene.

"No doubt," Gentleman Johnny says as he pays only about 1/10th of his attention to her. He knows she's spoiling for a fight after he left her in a car while he went and dabbled in a three some with two rent girls, solely for the purpose of antagonizing her for some other argument.

"You are a disgusting pig," Sharlene hisses.

Gentleman Johnny looks at her and and asks in a whisper, "Ain't love grand?" as he brings the car to a halt and hops out. Two men fall into step behind him as they take up flanking positions to guard their employer. To the left is Grant, a six foot humorless Nhasi Tribesman who specializes in close in work. To the right is Mark, a Senegalese Communist bodyguard who fell into his employment after the African Legion crushed his organization like a bug under a boot. The three leave Sharlene to her own devices, which include, but are not limited to, the planned execution of Gentleman Johnny by way of a fire ant hill and a jar of honey.

"Boss, what took so long?" asks Mark.

"Had to make a stop," Gentleman Johnny states as he enters his office and takes a seat behind his well appointed desk.

"Well boss, while you were out making your stop you got several calls, one is from Mbembe," Grant explains.

"Oh, what does our esteemed President have to say?" asks Gentleman Johnny.

"He says the next munitions shipment better be on time or he'll personally come down here and use a tank to get a refund," Mark informs his employer.

"Best we be on time then, any other business?" replies Gentleman Johnny.

"No sir," the two bodyguards reply together.

"Good, get out of my office," Gentleman Johnny says as he fills a glass with a large serving of whiskey. He looks up at the wall and gives the African Legion Flag a mock salute as he turns his eyes back to his desk. "For Legion and country and all that rot," he snorts as he takes a drink and gets busy making himself more of that thing which he so loves, money.

Edited by Tidy Bowl Man
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"Profit, that is why we exist," comments Gentleman Johnny. His employees watch him as he paces his office. They are used to his eccentric style of thinking out load leadership. They all know that when he's on a roll that its best not to disturb him as generally it means bigger bonuses for them in the long run. Those large bonuses, are the lifeblood that ties the employees of Port Sudan Imports and Exports to Gentleman Johnny Germaine.

Some companies believe in employee held stock, others give free lunches, and some offer day care. Gentleman Johnny Germaine offers horrible working conditions, terrible medical, and absolutely no retirement package. He does offer nearly thirty percent of his profits to his employees as bonuses of every single deal that he makes. If he makes a million Dongs, his employees split 300k up between them. There isn't any system of seniority either, each of his fifteen employees gets an equal share of that beak wetting. At the end of the year Gentleman Johnny takes the time to look at the books and weigh the numbers.

Those with the best numbers get the best end of the year pay off. Just last year Sharlene reaped a one million dong pay off for the securing of several lucrative munitions contracts between the SDF and Artican vendors. Even Mark the bodyguard got a decent bonus as not only did he keep his boss alive, he still found time to set up a deal with one of those annoying little Asian insurgency forces that needed a supply of AK-47s. With all this money going out there is still plenty of money going in to fatten Gentleman Johnny's sizable wallet.

Right now that wallet is what is motivating Gentleman Johnny as he says, "Look, the SDF still has a store of that clunky kit they swapped out for the new FN-FAL rifles that we procured the manufacturing dies for."

"Yes, exactly Nine thousand, four hundred, and thirty three units" replies Sharlene who is less incensed with Gentleman Johnny than she was an hour ago.

"Lets get those purchased and sent to our armorers," orders Gentleman Johnny as he refers to the crew of roguish looking Ex-Legion men who he subcontracts these chores too out of some faint sense of duty and obligation that he manages to feel deep in the bowels of his greedy heart towards his fellow Legion Alumni.

"Then what?" asks Sharlene.

"That's just a teaser, we need a boat, a damn big boat," replies Gentleman Johnny.

"What do we need a ship for?" asks Sharlene who is getting a bit worried.

"Look, what do wars need?" asks Gentleman Johnny.

"Guns, munitions, stupid people willing to die in them," replies Sharlene.

"We can definitely supply the guns and munitions if they can supply the stupid people," Gentleman Johnny comments as he picks up his calculator and begins to bang out a series of calculations.

"So why do we need the ship?" asks Sharlene.

"Speed of service, we put together a shipment, in containers, get them on a ship we control on a long term lease, and when the time is right we sell the whole lot for a profit when the next war breaks out," replies Johnny.

"Keeping a ship around is going to cost money," Sharlene observes dryly as she jots down a few figures from her memories.

"True, but we can also get our hands on a ship, use it to transport our goods to warehouse space in various ports, and then either use the ship to move it if it is close enough, or lease a freighter to move it," replies Gentleman Johnny.

"War in a box," mutters Sharlene.

"My god, War in a Box, that's the perfect promotional slogan as well," shouts Johnny who runs around his desk and begins to hammer furiously at the keyboard of his Acer Aspire 4376G Laptop. Within minutes he hits print and hands the rough draft to Sharlene and she reads it.

"This idea is retarded," she replies.

"No, it is brilliant, it gets us into the position of positioning weapons and munitions into potential conflicts before they break out, it also allows us to get a jump on the market," replies Gentleman Johnny.

"Your figures don't account for upfront purchase costs," Sharlene snarls as she uses her pencil to scribble a few more numbers onto the paper she was given.

"Details, mere details, this War in a Box scheme is going to make us beyond rich, those idiotic global leaders can't help themselves, if they aren't fighting, they are trying to stop people from fighting. Not only can we offer a War in a Box package, we can offer a Humanitarian Do Gooder package," he shouts as he runs behind his desk.

"Johnny, this could wipe you out, you don't have the cash reserves to pull it off," Sharlene says as she realizes that Gentleman Johnny is dead serious about this enterprise.

"Not yet, but I can get the cash easily enough, your cousin can help us with that," he replies.

"I'm not getting the President of the Sudanese Republic involved in a crazy gun running scheme," she snaps back.

"Not officially, but he did ask you earlier about securing a contract to provide the SDF with construction equipment, right?" he asks.

"Yes, but how is that going to help with your gun running scam?" she asks.

"Simple, the ships can either go there empty, or they can go there with our guns, and we then bring back construction equipment," replies Gentleman Johnny.

"I don't like this, he won't either," she replies.

"Mere details, and like I always say...."

"Yeah yeah, what he doesn't know, won't hurt him," grouches Sharlene as she gets up to walk away from Gentleman Johnny's office.


Later on after the printer delivers the first of the promotional literature, Gentleman Johnny leans back in a chair and smiles as he examines the future. With a smooth hand bearing manicured fingers he examines the promotional flyers. They are a bit y rough, they certainly don't advertise what PoS can deliver, and the graphics please his eye. The inability to deliver the promised goods doesn't worry Gentleman Johnny as these are only samples. The final proofs will look much different.

He takes a drink, sets the flyer down, and walks out of his office to tidy up some loose ends.

Edited by Tidy Bowl Man
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