Reporting from Ibiza:
Sir, the project in Cambodia is going well, so I took a flight to come back to what is defined as “my country” to see how the project is evolving here. From here, I would like to tell you the story of a very special and encouraged Space Monkey. She used to be a professional pleasure manager deluxe in Ibiza. What we usually know as a slut, bitch, whore, prostitute. She used to hang around all the VIP’s rooms in the most worldwide known discos, sharing expensive champagnes, mojitos or cocaine with rich magnates of petroleum, soccer players, stupid deejays or drug dealers. She used to think that, some day, she would be able to get that same unconcerned life style if she had kept attached to those successful menfolks and fucking them for money. But, at her late thirties, and looking the end of her physical beauty approaching her, she found out that she will never be nothing else than the flower to decorate the success of the rich men. A flower that soon would be withered and no man would want to have next to him. She didn’t save much money, she didn’t have experience in any other job, she only could live out of her beauty, and once it had ended she would had nothing, and that pissed her off.
The first fight she had was against a client who used to abuse her. She almost killed him, and enjoyed the feeling of taking the reins of her life. Then she joined the club at the basement of a trendy beach club, and she gained my trust. She was an example of Angel of Change. She used her connections to seed the chaos in many massive party events where tons of high people waste their lives. And then she volunteered to be the first Flower of the Utmost Devastation.
The mission was to get infiltrated into a luxury elitist boat party in which the attendants were mostly sheiks who ruled one of the main energetic sources, so a big part of the world, famous soccer stars, and other capitalists managers. She set up the soap made explosives inside the boat and detonate them causing a big explosion that blew up the whole boat. Many obstacles for the New, New World were executed that day, quickly, ruthlessly, without mercy but with compassion, like you ordered. They died enjoying one of the best parties ever. And that is the way how the space monkey became the Flower of the Utmost Devastation. In death, a member of project Mayhem has a name. Her name is Paula Martir, and I think she deserves to be noted in the book of the New, New World.
Before executing the plan, Paula poured one bottle of three thousand bucks champagne trough the drain and introduced a very clear message inside instead, a message that the waves brought to the shore, much more valuable: Rize or die.
Space Monkey Bartu Juan, singing off.