Phule’s Paradise by Robert Asprin

“I did?”

“Certainly. I recall specifically your pointing out that young Mr. Phule comes from a very rich family.”

Beeker was jarred awake by the discordant jangle of the phone next to his bed. Bleary-eyed, he glanced at his watch to see how long he had been asleep, but abandoned the effort when he realized he had no recollection of when it was he had gone to bed. Not for the first time, he found himself annoyed with the Lorelei timetable, or lack thereof, which made any adherence to a schedule next to impossible.

The phone rang again.

Rather than reaching for the instrument immediately, the butler took a moment to compose himself. Perhaps business tycoons could function while giving the impression of being rushed and harried, but that simply wouldn’t do for one in his position.

Again the phone jangled.

“Beeker here.”

“Beeker, what the hell’s going on there?”

The voice was a surprise, not so much for its statement as in its identity. Even in its agitated condition, the butler had no difficulty recognizing it as belonging to Victor Phule, his employer’s father.

“Unfortunately, sir, I am unable to reply to that query-at least until you have calmed yourself sufficiently to properly identify yourself.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is Victor Phule, Beeker, and-“

“Ah yes. Good evening, Mr. Phule. How may I help you?”

“You can start by telling me what’s going on there on Lorelei!”

The butler rolled his eyes in exasperation. He had hoped that by forcing his caller into following formal protocol, the elder Phule would also be coerced into discussing rationally whatever it was that was bothering him. Clearly, however, this was not to be the case.