Justin Trudeau Investigation Case: One-Way Ticket To Pluto

Chapter One - Milton Incident

Czech Republic, Prague, 24th March 2018, 10 am

I got a call from the director's office, not expecting any special work today. Whatever he's up to, I honestly have no intention of accepting anything until April because I plan to take sick leave so I can chill my balls while everyone else is breaking their backs at work while I imagine them suffering and slowly drink coffee, reading the papers they have to report and sell. I honestly can't imagine the look on their faces when they find out I'm taking sick leave. Those stupid bitches..

I was looking at that door, wondering if I should really go in, because honestly sometimes I can't watch his Brazilian face preaching to me about my methodology and dedication to work, but it is what the fuck it is... Knocking on the door like when I plan to pass through the gates of Hell after tragically meeting my end at the very end of my life, I heard a voice calling me inside. I prayed to God several times and opened the earthly gates of the Hell of the Director's office.

"I can't believe you showed up right on time... this is nothing like you. Are you dying?" 

"Who the Hell starts a conversation like that, I just entered your goddamn office?!" 

"I heard you plan to take sick leave at the beginning of April, am I right?" 

"It's just empty, fake news."

"You're fucking lying!" 

"Nuh-uh." 

"Explain this note then, bitch." Whoever sent him this memo, I'll kill him on the spot. 

"I'm invoking the Fifth Amendment." 

"We're not in America, jerk. I wouldn't give you sick leave anyway, because I can see you're just fine mentally and physically. Well... just physically..." 

"Honestly, I was planning on breaking my arm badly." 

"Where the Hell do you draw a line? But, as far as that job is concerned, we got a tip from a source to do a reportage in Milton."

He started explaining some nonsense about some man with the nickname Lizard, crap like anonymity and other monkey terms that didn't interest me. 

"Okay, okay, okay, I fucking get it! You want me to do a report, don't you? Why me? From what I can gather, you don't really like it whenever I have to do something, because according to your dictionary, I'm extremely irresponsible and non-compliant, wondering every day why I'm still employed." 

"The source claims that the client who has the information wants to talk to you, and that's a good question."

 "How does he know who I am?"

 "No. Is the client mentally okay?"

"You know, you're extremely good with people, sometimes I don't have to ask myself how the Hell you got the director's chair because I know it's due to nepotism." 

"Fuck you. Regardless, let's go back to the initial topic. You can't say no, you probably guessed that right away, and even though the client only requested you, we're planning to send almost the entire team to Ontario." 

"Why the entire team? Why the hell do you need so many people for an ordinary report?" 

"Because the story is huge." 

"Oh yeah, you didn't tell me what the report is actually about?"

"As far as I could find out, it's about the Canadian prime minister and the French president, something big is hiding behind their behinds." 

"So their marriage was so god-awful, that same-sex was awesome? Ha?" He looked at me dead cold. 

"Shut the fuck up, you goddamn, braindead moron. And if it was a gay affair, do you think it would be that easy to find out?"