"LEO Burphy. How can I help you?"

"Hmm," Burphy said as someone who was at the other end said something.

"Hmm?" ...

"Yes..." ...

"Aha!" ...

"Mm!" ...

"Hmm, hmm." ...

Eh!??

"Hmm, hmm." ...

"What's your daughter's name, sir?" ...

"Mm!" ...

"Mm!!!" ...

"Mm, Mm."

Burphy finished speaking and tossed the phone aside nonchalantly. He rested his palms at the edge of the bonnet and leaned in. His hands were evenly spaced on either side, bent at the elbows and his long fingers extended well over the bonnet's edge. He tapped the metal top nonchalantly, repeating random taps effortlessly while mulling over the conversation he had just had. From a distance, he looked every part Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (himself) busking on mute. Just when he seemed to have finished playing his silent sonata, his phone rang once again.

"LEO Burphy. Oh! Come on," an exasperated Burphy said to the caller. "I told you I will take care of it.... Of course, I did... Fine I am telling you now that I will take care of it. Look, if something has to go wrong it will. That for your information sir, is Murphy's law. It may work anywhere else. But here it won't because only Burphy's laws apply in my jurisdiction. Do you understand, sir? Your daughter will come home safe and sound, and in one piece, unless someone has cut her up already... Oh I was just joking. Don't you worry. She'll be fine."

Burphy hung up for the second time. LEO isn't what it used to be, he wiped the sweat off his brow and perspired a little more.