The girl who would be the Queen of the world realized that shit was running downhill. As fun as it all was, all the yuks would never bear fruit, so she threw a switch, and tried to get the train back on track.

“One of the reasons artists generally make bad business people is that we find it difficult, nigh on impossible, to curb our creative impulses long enough to do enough of the serious, often tedious left brain work that is required to move a predominantly linear project forward,” she said, looking stern, business like, and in charge.

“Conversations among artists always go madly off in all directions, and so it has been, just now, here in the executive suite of the Valhalla Inn, on the outskirts of Thunder Bay,” Kitty carried on unnecessarily.

“Perhaps Lance would be good enough to come back to the matter at hand, specifically telling us just WTF we’re going to do with all the money money money we accrue. In your first attempt to do so, all you did was tell us how we are going to make even more money money money, by starting our own bank, so now we have even more money money money to spend. Please, enlighten us, if you’d be so kind, my friend.”

Looking not quite pained, but certainly pensive, Lance started by doubling back, “Obviously, I’m not thinking of a coup d’etat in Iceland. But there is no better place in the world to headquarter Commonwealth. When I say it’s our own sovereign country, I mean that we are already in philosophical alignment with them. It already feels like home to me, and I have never been there. Together, Iceland and Commonwealth can show the rest of the word what is possible, if they follow the examples we provide. I can foresee a relationship so strong that the Icelanders would change the name of their country to, the Commonwealth of Iceland.”

Madonna took it upon herself to speak for the others, “I don’t think anyone here is going to challenge your assessment of Iceland, or the sagacity of headquartering there. But we’re all waiting to hear about the money, money, money. What do we do with it all?”

“We invest. First and foremost, in art. In artists. We support tens of thousands of crowdfunding projects.”

“We start our own platform?” asked Kitty.

“I see no need to. The field is full, and I assume they are doing a fine job. Why compete with them? Help them. Help them help others. It all helps us. Once an artist has a project ready to sell, they sell it through us, anyway, so we get most, or all of our investments back, or maybe more.”

“Great,” chuckled Stephen, “so we’re making even more money money money.”

“We invest in art. Physical art. Paintings, sculptures, fashion, architecture. We invest in art that can’t be sold, stuff like the Viagra Rape Squad. Mindfuck art. Eventually, we invest in festivals. We produce them in every corner of the world. We can have a festival going somewhere on the planet, every day of the year, forever.”

King liked it, “Planet Art.”

“Without art, earth is just eh,” Madonna reminded everyone.

“Yes,” laughed Kitty, “but if you add sex, it’s fuckin’ eh!”

“Fuckin’ eh, it is,” Lance Lear laughed. “I honestly don’t know WTF to do with all the money, money, money. There will be lots of things to invest in. Things that will make the world a better place for all of us. Science, technology…” Lance’s voice faded as he watched Madonna and his father smiling at each other. “What?” he asked.

“That’s where Madonna’s mind has been recently. Science and tech. That’s why you’re going to Vancouver.”

“Oh, yeah? The royal runaways are mad scientists, in regal disguise?” Kitty wanted to know. “They have all sorts of slick science up their sleeves to save us?”

“Probably not,” Madge admitted. “I am going to pitch them something that could be to the sciences what Commonwealth will be to the arts.”

Young eyebrows went up. Madonna disappointed them, “Harry and Meghan hear it first. I will not budge from that position. If you attempt to budge me, I will resent it. Understood?” It was understood.

“Besides,” Madge said, “I wanna hear how Lance plans to do away with Youtube.”

“Yes,| Stephen agreed, “but do let’s get some coffee up here, yes?” Madge picked up the phone and placed the order.




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