A NOVELSAY BY LN JOHNSON Copyright 2013 Alan Johnson Alanjohnsonvaldosta2013@yahoo.

oo.com The cost is only $5s (POSTAL MONEY ORDER, OR CASH ONLY!) However, anyone may read the Prologue for free by sending me an e-mail. Thanks for reading.

The Bullied is now available on CD or via E-Mail.

THE BULLIED:
Rants & Raves from 40-years of Observed Social Justice & Injustice

A NOVELSAY, BY ALAN JOHNSON 2013

SYNOPSIS
Told from the perspective of an anonymous narrator Chances efforts with just about everything he did, particularly his numerous tirades and rants against 21st Century society, contained pretty much the same tactical or tactless elements. Those elements were protest terrorism, anti-terrorism terrorism, wisecracking intellectualism, social criticism, sarcasm Rap, insult writings, flip the script disruptions, artistic anarchy, boundary-pushing, brash defiance, brutal honesty combined with a street attitude; along with plenty of scientific and social challenges. And wherever the current and past events took him he was more than willing to follow or lead using some or all of those elements. In a nutshell, Chance was a bestselling Soul author, Soul songwriter, Soul Rapper and Hip Soul Performance Artist who went by the name Insubordinate. He even played a minor role in a movie once but few people noticed him. He was probably not noticed because the movie audience paid to see Ice Cube and thats mostly all that they saw. So Chance didnt consider himself a Soul Actor for that was his men Denzel Washington, Don Cheadles and others department. Chance didn't consider himself to be a terrorist although he definitely terrorized terrorists. But the terrorists and the U.S. government certainly did consider him a terrorist and he understood why. To Chance terrorists were the unofficial militias for corrupt tyrannical governments. And corrupt tyrannical governments were either a documented or undocumented ally of the agents of legitimate governments while some tyrannical governments posed as legitimate governments. What did any of that have to do with Chance? Chance was a terrorist killer. When he wasn't busy assassinating or at least hoping to assassinate terrorists he was Soul Rapping as Insubordinate. He loved music but he preferred being busy making plans to hunt down terrorists as Chance, so that others could enjoy music without the threat or terror. The agents of legitimate governments hated that. So, accordingly, they hated Chance. The agents of legitimate governments knew where Bin Laden and the gang were at any given moment. Those agents had men and women who could not only
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have killed big Ben but they were people who could have had him replaced by a puppet of sorts, as well; especially the Power of 4. Chance put an end to that charade and provided President Obama with the intelligence that lead to Bin Laden's demise. The Power of 4 really didn't like that as their organization profited greatly from the charade. The Power of 4 was a legitimate but invisible government agency of the United States whose primary purpose was to hunt down and have their agents kill Chance and anyone else who challenged their political, corporate or military interests. But what the terrorists, other practitioners of tyranny and the agents of legitimate governments hated most was that they didn't know who Chance really was. Thats because Chance worked for the Unknown Committee which was a semi-legitimate invisible government agency of the United States whose primary purpose was to counter rogue government agencies, as well as domestic and international terrorists. Accordingly, Chance's troubles really began to grow even more when the Power of 4 directed government police intelligence at the Hood with the expressed purpose of drawing Chance out of hiding. Thats what the drug war was mostly about, aside for repressing the political and economic will of the people in the Hood and trailer-Hood. That's why they were having difficulty pining down his race because he seemed to care as much for poor, middle and working class Whites, Blacks, Asians, Indians and others indiscriminately. He was an enigma that's how some of his hunters described him. What they didn't know though was that Chance hid in plain sight and that their own prejudices blinded them to his identity. After all how could one think that a seemingly out of control man who publicly challenged Jay-Z and 50-Cent to FARKing battles was also a highly skilled and well prepared terrorist fighter? The Bullied is mostly and anonymously narrated as a gripping, thrilling, suspense filled dramatized take on fatherhood and motherhood, Soul and Rap music, terrorism and counter terrorism, loving love and hating hate, culture and anti-culture, the political and personal. Also the Bullied is a story of how an African American from the housing projects became a hunter of terrorists, was hunted by the United States and British Intelligence, and how Chance Vernon Johns came to be the worlds oldest active Rapper whose name was Insubordinate.

Prologue
Science Committee Briefing United States, Washington, D.C. (2013) Jimmica looked at the eleven men who formed the Scientific Committee in Washington, D.C. and knew that they had no clue what she was talking about. They were politicians, and except for maybe one or two of them they unnaturally had no patience for or interest in intellectual inquiry. So Jimmica dumbed it down for the distinguished Senators. He has a quantum computer, which really isnt supposed to exist yet. They had that look again. In comparison to our counterintelligence computers, even our supercomputers, its the equivalent of sending a rocket after the Start Fleet Enterprise when its in warp drive. Yep, they had that look again. They probably werent Trekkies so she gave them the Physics for Dummies version as an explanation. Its like a missile that can go 5,200 miles per hour chasing a jet that can go 186,000 miles per hour. She paused. His computer can track and monitor our satellites but we cant even begin to monitor or track his computer. Although all of the Senators were looking Senatorial, which was dumb, nevertheless one of them spoke up as if he was scientifically smart. Didnt Google and some other company just purchase quantum computers? Yes, last year, but that was more a prototype than a real quantum computer. She paused again, took a deep breath. Gentlemen, the largest Ice Sheet in the world is the East Antarctic and it is approximately 3 miles thick. Couple that with the nearby West Antarctic Ice Sheet and their combined size would be larger than the United States and Mexico combined. Global sea levels
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would rise well above 200 feet if both ice sheets were to be melted at the same time. They didnt look so lost now. This terrorist, or network of terrorists, or whatever you want to call him or them, have technology that can melt them both in under 0.000005 milliseconds. The effect would be globally devastating, making everything west of the Mississippi part of an even deeper Pacific ocean. They were quiet, listening and willing to learn more. And this government organization or group of terrorists has already melted a relatively small iceberg just to give us a sample of their power and ability to commit wide spread terror. Recruitment (Flint, MI 1976) This was another one of those activity packed summers that went by much too quickly. Chance and his friends had just quit BCN, the so-called Black Christian Nationalists. BCN, Chance learned, was more of a Black cult than a movement. Despite that, he loved BCNs militarized marching drills, which would later be popularized by the RAP group NWA on YouTube in their Fight the Power video. Still, BCN was cultish but thats not why Chance had quit. He had quit because the Black Christian Nationalists leaders repeatedly failed to buy the youth t-shirts that theyd promised to buy for months; since last winter, in fact. And here it was now nearing the end of summer. The money for the t-shirts was there because Chance and his friends alone raised no less than $45,000s in 7-months through BCNs Missionary Outreach Program. Essentially it was a program where cute Black kids went into all White communities and solicited cash which was given generously to soften post-Jim Crow inspired guilt. The White people seemed genuinely nice, but these particular Black people had begun to genuinely piss Chance off. So when Chance counted the money in his head and added up the lies he quit. When he quit the twenty seven other peer pressured youths whom he had recruited also left. That mutiny effectively ended the Flint, Michigan chapter of BCN. Maybe thats why Chances inner circle called him boss, which was weird being that he was younger than most of them and was fast becoming a nerd. He was leaving the public library now while his story was being told.
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During the 1970s a nerd was called a book worm. Being a bookworm or nerd was a tough business. Being a reader made one a target for bullies and the most stupid ridicule. Being a nerd in a housing project was even tougher. A reader was often a loner and sported a black eye and other bruises of abuse as punishment for being interested in learning. River Park, an urban planned ghetto, was that housing project. It was also where Chance learned to fight, several years before he learned to love the right to read and think. But in order to re-earn the right to read and think just about anyone would have to fight or succumb to being picked on or savagely taunted. Chance chose fight over flight. So he had a rep for both being hypo-educated and a fighter. Almost always armed with books, Chance caught outside challengers off guard. Most expected to see a tough looking guy. Chance didnt look or act tough. But once a group of one hundred or more high school students saw him beat up an older and bigger guy who drew a knife, while Chance was unarmed, his rep grew even more and even fools chose to leave him and his books alone. BCN had sharpened his self-taught martial art skills. Before that he devoured hours of Muhammad Ali fights and Bruce Lee films. He copied the styles of both but disguised his boxing and martial arts skills as street fighting, using either merely to avoid or deflect blows before dishing out punishment. Some type of avoidance or deflection was needed now because once again he saw a White woman and Black man, both of whom he was pretty sure had been following him ever since he left the public library. And now here they were again when he got off the city bus as it pulled into River Park. His semi-paranoid cousin, Tuffy, who wasnt tough, would have immediately fingered them as undercover cops. All suspicious adult strangers were undercover to him. Granted, Tuffy was good at spotting and learning the names of the actual undercover police, as well. Not that it mattered for most people in the projects werent crooks by any stretch of the imagination. Thats because smoking marijuana then was treated as less than a misdemeanor and petty crimes were treated as petty and not an overwhelming sign of bad things to come. Tuffy lived with his and Chances grandparents but he wasnt there at the time. In times of potential danger, Chance often went to his grandparents home instead of his own. Once there he said a quick hi to his grandma (who was cooking what smelled like collard greens and fried chicken) before he dropped off his Microbiology, Chemistry and Trigonometry books. But without Tuffy being
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there to truthfully or falsely finger his followers, Chance decided to lead them to the Flint River as he was once again choosing fight over flight. Dinner with Dr. Doll (Summer 2011) Dr. Doll talked and moved real fast and seemed to be about to burst from all of the internal energy bubbling up inside her. Dr. Doll claimed that she wasnt always like that, maybe hinting that Chance brought such energy surges out of her. It was refreshing and Chance loved the uplift from anothers excess energy but something about her just wasnt sitting right within him. Maybe it was because she was too perfect and relished being perfect. Who knew for sure? Maybe he would find out a lot more at dinner, at her favorite restaurant, than he had been able to learn from her on-line. Since Dr. Doll had learned that Chance was a long distance runner, she ordered for him the strano pasta with mortadella and broccoli. She had octopus and mortadella spiedino. Both dishes looked and tasted great. But there was nary enough food to fill a saucer let alone cover an entire plate. Due to Chances high metabolism, he could have eaten both of their meals and chalked it up to being an appetizer. And since the bill would come to $126.42 that made the glasses of wine more awful than they actually were. The restaurant didnt serve Red Tail. That was probably because Red Tail wasnt recommended by a wine expert for sale at Dr. Dolls favorite high scale food establishment. Red Tail was considered to be cheap but tasted far better to Chance. But he also liked Cold Duck, so the wine experts might have rightly doubled down on his tastes being a whole lot less than sophisticated. Yep, it was definitely an eatery for those who wanted to be seen only in certain places. He looked at his online date. They had chatted several months online before ever actually meeting. Her name was Carolyn Doll, she was a doctor; a geneticists to be exact. He had learned from their on-line chats that her dad was a lawyer and her mother a French high school teacher. She was pretty as a doll, too, which made Chance think back to his mother and the prissy little girls she used to try to hook him up with when he and Joan were somehow disrupted. They were usually disrupted by her stepdad, though, who when sober was reminded that Joans occasional two or more week absence from her home was due to him not being real fatherly.

Still, his date would get the hint that he wasnt really attracted to her much sooner than later. He had no intention of initiating a good night kiss at the end of their evening meal. And he definitely wouldnt call her as the present conversation was forced, shallow and they just didnt have that much in common. Plus Dr. Doll had asked him why he was a Rapper when he could have been a lawyer, doctor or someone important. She didnt know that he had two chart topping songs in both 2010 and 2011. Even if she had known that last comment was a deal breaker and caused him not to share that he was also a respected businessman. But man oh man her tennis conditioned body was banging. She had that athletic look and lean beauty of Venus Williams. Still he had no intention of banging her or hanging out with her after their meal which he was certain would leave him still hungry. Turned out that he had lied to himself or wasnt true enough about his intentions for her. After the dinner, she initiated the kiss and went straight to his crotch which responded first against and then with his will. Dr. Doll had him right there in the restaurant parking lot, in his car. She came twice, embarrassingly loud. He didnt know how because it wasnt all that great to him. She was fine but he still wasnt feeling her and the vibes were just too confusing, too contrived and just not natural. After they finished, she claimed that she needed what turned out to be fast, hard and angry sex. Dr. Doll said she would call him but that she had a busy week ahead. Then it suddenly struck Chance, the dinner and sex was like an appointment. She had scheduled him in, examined him, probed him and had been probed by him. And the way she said that she would call him sounded more like what a doctor would say to a patient that required follow-up treatment. Dr. Doll (A Month Later: Summer 2011) There was no I can save you mission involved with Dr. Doll. It was more that she was persistent and straight to the point about what she wanted and what attracted her, especially sex with older more experienced men. She was much too busy to be clingy, she said, so to Chance that comment was an added bonus instead of a cautionary flag. But when they were a part and chatted Chance could tell that she was the type who would have a full schedule of activities for you when she was free and
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was hoping to find you free or ready to clear your calendar for her. Chance being at her home, instead of working on any one of his multiple projects, was such an occasion he guessed. She was still talking and moving real fast and seemed about to burst from being so alive and having so much too look forward to in life and love. She was 34-years young and lived in Buckhead, a booming urban oasis of North Atlanta. Her home was like an urban setting from a Tyler Perry movie that captured domestic tranquility. It was almost evening and her terrace overlooked a manicured lawn, pool and Jacuzzi. Her pool was interesting. There was a wooden pergola at the far end of the pool and a brick patio on the other end. There were also peegee hydrangea trees whose blooms were early white then and would change to rose later in the season. Manicured or clipped boxes of Japanese hollies were around the row of trees with a grassy walking path on each side leading to the pool. Chance had been in Georgia for over seven years and was still learning things about its natural abundance. Chance would learn about the landscape described above later as he had taken a picture of the entire pool area when he had first arrived at Dr. Dolls home and had forwarded it to his landscaper, Alonzo, who would educate Chance on his refined taste. The terrace was where Chance was standing as she had to drive down the street to a strip mall in order to get a few more items. She particularly needed wine for the chicken stir fry that they were going to eat. Afterward they were maybe going to go for a swim, a walk or just stay in to relax and cuddle once evening sat in. She had been talking and moving around real fast again as she said all of that. After she drove off, Chance left her terrace and walked down her spiraling stairs to put his phone and wallet into the trunk of his car where the other technological items like his iPad were. After that he walked around a bit while he was outside. The sun was low but it was still light out and it was just simply another beautifully weathered Georgia day. He had been walking around her big front yard for about fifteen minutes when he could see her driving back up her long driveway, which he was near. Why didnt you answer your phone? I tried to call you, she asked and said while almost wiping the welcoming smile from his face with her tone. He helped her with the two over flowing recycled store bags she was struggling with as she got out of her little red two seated sports car.
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I tossed it in the trunk. Why did you do something silly like that? I could have had an emergency or something, she said now out of the car, standing near it while he held both bags under his arms. Why did you call? Chance asked while ignoring the mood stabbing silly remark. I wanted you to put some rice in the electric rice cooker and a few other things while I was running the errand, she said, real fast. Chance started walking towards her house. Youre just going to leave me standing here? Chance was now slowly back pedaling towards her house. I told you before we met that Im not much of a phone person. But you could have answered the phone, is that too much to ask? She was now also moving slowly towards her house. How, its in the trunk? It shouldnt be in the trunk. Actually, it should be wherever I put it. Now thats selfish if I ever heard it, and you dont have to get smart. Im done talking about my phone if you dont mind. Well, Im not done talking. And I dont appreciate your dismissive tone either Mr. Chance. Dismissive? Yes, dismissive and now I see why you chose that silly rapper name Insubordinate. Chance shut down. The comment about his stage name didnt sting still he actually stopped talking about the phone while she hadnt. She started on the meal while talking, yanking items out of the bags and then more like tossing them than really setting them in their place. She was clearly frustrated and was still talking

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fast and tossing about strings of words like rude, inconsiderate, borderline ghetto, uncommunicative Ill be back, she finally said. She must have run out of insults. Chance watched her through the kitchen window as she paced back and forth outside and then disappeared around the corner of her house. She had on a blue short set that was real cute with matching open toe sandals. Normally, Chance would have at least tried to be all over a woman who was cute as her. But being with her was again not feeling normal, especially now. A damn phone, he thought as she had been outside for what was about 10minutes by then. After another few minutes he went outside to see if she was ok. Dr. Doll was sitting up in a tree, her legs swinging off the side of its lowest branch. He asked if she were ok and she restarted on the phone. With that he rudely excused himself to go and protect their meal from burning.

Sex that night was less than ok as expectations were both dimmed for him and again raised by her at about 4:30A.M. She aggressively woke him up and wanted to go for a second round. Chance wasnt really in the mood and strongly suggested that they wait about another hour so he could get some needed rest. They didnt retire for bed until well after 2:00 A.M. and she was even a little angry then because he fell asleep on her favorite movie, Why Did I Get Married Too. Chance had seen the movie before and only pretended to be sleep so that he wouldnt have to respond to her energetic comments about her favorite scenes, which seemed to be every other one. His were the ones with Janet Jackson in them. She had never been married and nor had Chance. And neither one of them were doing nor saying anything that would put the dreams nor hopes of marriage on a normal persons mind either. But that movie had stirred that dream when Chance had watched it without her. Maybe he was dreaming now or was it a nightmare? Maybe about a few minutes had passed and Chance was re-awakened from a deeper sleep than he intended when suddenly she snatched the covers off of him. He guessed she thought that she was being sexily playful. He pulled the covers back on and she snatched them off again. With that Chance jumped out of her bed and started dressing.
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Whats wrong? He ignored her and kept dressing. She started to try and physically stop him but then thought better of it. The three and an hour drive back to Valdosta was more like being on the way back to freedom. Once there he gathered everything that he wanted to take into the house with him and checked his phone which she had blown up. She had blown it up when she was at the grocery store, too, and had blown it up even now although he had left without saying thank you or leaving even a respectful goodbye behind. He knew it was over between them before it had even a chance to start. And soon she would too after he blocked her number from his phone and her fast and numerous petty concerns from his mind and refocused on his plans for Re-Use-It. She had to be the only person he had ever met that he hadnt shared something about Re-Use-It with. Now that was both interesting and telling for he was a lover of beauty but was turned off mentally by her. But Chance considered that fault or divide to be with him and not her.

229 STUDIOS (Valdosta, GA August 2013) Or as Steve Jobs might have said, There has to be an ass hole with creative talent somewhere in this building. Somebody, anybody write me a freaking hit song. Please. The Rapper Insubordinate and the family man Chance was smiling back at the smiling crowd of young people and added what Steve might have then tossed in rather sarcastically, Ill even pay you for it. The students, interns and staff burst into laughter. Insubordinate doubted, though, that many of them had read Steve Jobs autobiography which would have helped them better understand the reference to pay. But they would come to understand that reference in a short while. They were all in a Valdosta studio that Insubordinate was renting from the 229 Crew, which was a loose but large group of local Rappers who could be found all over YouTube and on one anothers individually produced mixed tapes and CDs. Today though was an appreciation day for Valdostas local talent through
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Chances Flight of the Afflatus Blog and the 229s Hotter than Hot-lantas Hip Hop & Rap 3rd Annual Lyric Writing Contest. It was also Insubordinates way of giving back. He was also in a great mood because he would be picking up one of his daughters from Valdostas airport later in the day. It was all good in the 229 Hood. Many who were in attendance, about 105 in all, were from the Valdosta Housing Authoritys Ora Lee West and Hudson Dockett housing complexes. Duh, they were housing projects. But Black people were scattered throughout Valdosta. Some were from the Southside and many more from the Northside. The further North you went, the Whiter it got and the further East you went the Blacker and more Hispanic it got. Valdosta, like a lot of America, was both a multicultural and a culturally segregated community. Privately, Insubordinate didnt blame White or Black folks for not wanting to be around extremely ghetto Black folks or White trailer-Hoods. Hell, the first thing most former drug dealers, gamblers, professional athletes, Rappers and Country singers did when they made it big was to move out of the leaderless chaos called the Hood or trailer-Hood. Moving on up and out as the Jeffersons had once put it. The crime in the Black communities was a Black shame. Even W.E.B. DuBois was forced to speak out against Black incivility during his days. That was over 100 years ago and too many Blacks were still acting a fool and cutting a rug, as they used to say. Insubordinate was like Mr. T. and pitied the fool. Chance put as much distance as he could between himself and ghetto parasitism. He instead focused on social success. Because thats what ghetto foolishness does, like a parasite it sucks the positive life out of individuals and then the wider community. That was true especially when there were no barriers or special defenses to protect both from that invasion of incivilitys weakening behaviors. Still, Insubordinate appreciated the sharper youths. The sharper youths of the Millennial generation, those young men and women who werent buying into the outright urban madness. The youth who strove to be different were different. To create balance they were the ones who were the reason that more women were enrolling into and graduating from college than men. Many formerly oppressed women were no longer intellectually depressed. Many formerly oppressed men were no longer criminally stressed. The breadwinner was the two who held up their bargained end of the mutually agreed on spiritual and social contract as one.
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How many of you have an iPhone or some other Apple product? More than half of the hands were raised in response to Insubordinates question. Thats when he explained to them that Steve Jobs was essentially an entrepreneurial hippie, a lover of peace and a live and let live kind of guy. He was also brutally honest and demanded the best from nearly everyone, even his rivals. He could care less about your personal problems and would toss you out of a meeting if you offered excuses in place of a solution. And the, Ill pay you was part of an inside joke. Thats why Insubordinate had gone on to explain, Steve was supposed to pay his business partner a certain portion of money for the work they shared but Steve kept the money for himself, and the guy who he did that to had been his best friend since high school. So just imagine how he might have treated you? Seguing from that story Insubordinate said, Ill pay you, though. But youll have to work your butts off to get it and become a partner. With that said, he looked at the 105 or so aspires. Yall ready to work? Yes, they hollered in unison while taking the cue from hearing Gotti, say, We came to work. I cant hear you. Yes, we came to work, they said as they continued to get more of the message. Good, this is how it works: $2,500 for the lyrics that are voted the best, $1,500 for the second best and $750 for the third best. They didnt know in advance that they were going to have an opportunity to be paid twice as much as the previous years. Insubordinate could see it in their eyes; some of them were already counting and spending the money. But shortly thereafter came two other very pleasant surprises. Insubordinate acknowledged a young lady who had raised her hand. Will the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners get any royalties should the song be produced?
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She was probably no older than 16, Insubordinate had figured. But she was definitely one of the ones who got the gist of the Steve Jobs distorted allegory. I hadnt thought about it. But you do now. And lady you get a bonus of $100s just for having the guts to ask that question. There was that certain electricity in the air that comes from money being shared and being in a group that has a positive vibe and promising outlook. Who will be the judges of the songs? asked a young man. He was probably in his 20s. It bears mentioning that he was White, as were more than a few members of the 229 crew. So it wasnt surprising that he was at a Hip Hop & Rap event. You all will vote by secret ballot, Insubordinate answered. With me, Gotti, and his staff breaking any ties, Insubordinate said as he looked at each in turn. Does he get a $100 bonus for asking that? asked a different young hip looking White guy. Just about everyone in the room broke into laughter. Im sorry but that didnt fall into the Steve Jobs lesson, category. Insubordinate continued smiling as the room broke into laughter again and the young man sort of blushed, as a few of his friends sort of teased him. But if yall heard like I heard, this young man intends to win. Thats right, yeah, the young man shouted, pumping his fist in the air in a way that only a cool White person can do. Feeling their fire, Insubordinate realized that they were all really worked up now. Well, lets get to work then. That encouragement lead to a sort of frenzy as iPads, lap tops, as well as old school pen and paper were brought out. Accordingly, each person found themselves some personal space and went to work with an aim of winning. Theyre all winners, Insubordinate said to Gotti who was now standing next to him along with a few of his staff members as they all looked on. Gotti was the local radio personality who annually promoted and organized the annual Hotter than Hot-lanta Hip Hop & Rap Writing Contest. A month after this particular
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contest, Gotti would be murdered in his studio in an apparent robbery. His killer had yet to be brought to justice. OPRAH INTERVIEW (2013) Summer in Michigan was a beautiful time of the year. Joan was relaxing in her modest home while looking, for the fifth time over the course of 2-years, at a recording of an interview that Oprah had conducted with Chances daughters in 2011 and which also was eventually edited and published in Essence magazine the following year. Heres what the reader missed and what Joan had already watched: Is it true that you two built an empire off of spin offs? Oprah asked, looking comfortable and regal in her studio before she continued. With only a virtual staff and office you two are said to work from your couches and laptop only and rarely ever hold staff meetings in person. Chances daughters were smiling back at Oprah, Its kind of easy Oprah because Trudy will sue or fire anyone who disobeys an order. Directive, Taylor. Ok, directive then. Is fired terminated or let go? Forget you. You love me. I plead guilty, I do. Oprah was absorbed by the sisterly exchange. It reminded her of the genuine love between the tennis and fashion greats Venus and Serena. Joan (Flint , Michigan 2013) Joan had already been watching Trudy and Taylor perform for about fifteen minutes, and here we observe where Joan was at now, listening to a tirade that was written by their fathers alter ego Insubordinate. What Trudy read to Oprah was essentially a tirade about the need for a strong work ethic but mainly it was about the Tea Party. Their dad possessed an overwhelming work ethic and Flint, Michigan bred toughness. The toughness was more resilience than anything. He always said that
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Flintstones were some of the most resilient people in the country and for decades had led the country by way of the automobile. He didnt know how to back down from a fight, or how not to get up with the birds to exercise, read to write or write to read, or mess around in the recording studio. None of it was ever really work to him. No job was and he never really had a bad one. Work was what you were supposed to do so it shouldnt be a burden unless you allowed it to be or made it one. To him work was living and doing what you loved or could learn from while doing. And to him we all could learn a lot from the rise of the Tea Party. OPRAH Tea Party Essay as was Read by Trudy (2011) The Tea Partiers are crazy? Well, not exactly. Our freedom of speech is being attacked by our government and public institutions, abortion is murder and completely anti-Christian, there are pockets of entitlement interest groups that are in a vicious cycle of dependency, there are communities that dont even try to police themselves but who rally when they perceive poor policing by reluctant or abusive police, there is a wide spread lack of work ethic and customer service, there are people who dont study hard or effectively, there is too much poor leadership and a lack of oversight from the people those leaders are supposed to represent, lots of our tax dollars are being wasted and curing the waste alone would greatly curb many of our social and economic problems, and the government and corporations are snooping into peoples private lives. Thats not crazy talk folk; those are bullying realities that deserve nothing less than the extremes of forced change. The Tea Partiers problem is that they have representatives who say the right things in very wrong ways. So the solution-less or bad solution presenting Democrats just pounce on the Tea Partys extremism, I mean gaffes. Now the Democrats bad decisions look more reasonable in contrast to the unreasonable decisions, due to extreme rhetoric, that are presented by the Republican Tea Party. Its another one of those damned if you do or damned if you dont situations. Both sides are making our choice nothing more than that which is the least bad for us. One day we will get the reforms that campaigning politicians promise. But it will only come through the building of parallel institutions that can out fund the interest groups who fund non-inclusiveness. Libertarianism, Ayn Rand-ismit all must be countered by an economic plan and social system that is designed and approved by the former protestors and critics of the current economic plans and social systems.
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The better plans already exist and some are working on a low scale, we just dont use them or should I say fund them with enough support and enthusiasm. The vocal protestors and critics are the supermajority but right now they are being vetoed by the minority which is the entire Congress and the Senate. Its almost simple. Instead of social protesting, economically protest by building up and supporting those who are transparently engaging in the type of world that is in high demand. Sure there will be competing interests but only the most popular and effective interests will rule as opposed to the unpopular and current system of systematic wealth and rule by the few. Socialism? We already have aspects of that in our current social systems. But instead of socialism call it a rejection of the unpopular brand of Wall Streets free market system and its political allies, which right now are all branches of government and most public and private institutions. Does Chance like the Tea Party? No. Hello, no. Does he respect them? Yes. Heaven, yes. But still he doesnt trust conservatism of any kind. Black, White, Hispanic, Asianconservatism is the same everywhere. Its repressive and non-inclusive with a high entry barrier. Liberals complain about that but play essentially the same game, but at least they are angry about its apparent array of unfairness. Now what we have with the Democrats are poverty fighters and social justice and enlightened crusaders. None of that has built anything sustainable in the fight against poverty. Yet, there are those who proudly say that they plan to keep fighting the good fight. Whats so good about constant rejection of your ideas and losing ground with each and every step forward? Trudy recited the last part from memory, which impressed Oprah who added that liberals wouldnt want to hear about the poverty part of that tirade except to debunk it and the tirade still didnt impress Oprah enough to not ask this follow-up question: Didnt your dad almost spend time in prison for attempted murder? Taylor gently touched Trudy to calm her down and to let her know I got this big sis. Oprah, first of all That part of the interview got heated and by mutual agreement was edited out. Only those present really knew what transpired. Whatever it was it ended
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with both the girls and Oprah apologizing to each other. After all, Oprah was one of their heroes. So Oprah went back to the tirade. Now back to the Tea Party, I mean work tirade. You are right Oprah because the Tea Party rant is what most people will get from it and miss the part about work. Oprah nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Why do I have a feeling that your father didnt give you that essay, she commented while point to the now folded up tirade that Trudy was holding. Or authorize you young ladies to use it. He hates publicity about himself, but theres so much that people dont understand about our dad, theres so much that people need to know about him. This is our way of nudging him, Taylor chimed in. What they didnt know though was that the Democratic aspect of the tirade would catch him sort of off guard as a later guest on the Bill Maher show. And just as luck would have it Al Sharpeton and Michael Eric Dyson were also guess and had some sharp criticisms but were respectful of Chances view. Thanks, daughters, Chance would think after that time. We toot his horn because he would just leave his essays in a case or binder or something, Trudy continued. Yeah, Russell Simmons seems to be like that, too, real modest. And Bill Cosby and Cicely Tyson You, too, Oprah, Taylor remarked and laughed as Oprah clearly blushed. You two are a mess. Old souls Our dad says the something, they said in unison, cutting off Oprah as they leaned into one another, giggling at the connecting vibe of speaking the same thoughts or finishing one another statements. It was all good though as Oprah was about to introduce her featured guest, Alicia Keyes. And all the girls could think about was the photos that would be taken with her and the cherished autographs they were sure to plead for and receive after Alicia was interviewed.
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Ghosts

(Flint, Michigan from 1966 as was told in 2013)

Not that Trudy was intentionally out to change subjects while she and her father were talking, but she loved hearing stories about her great grandmother, Leevatie Coates. Leevatie was proud and often reminded family members that her own mother was full blown half-apache, as she would say. That was probably true since Leevatie herself was one generation removed from slavery. And probably true since Trudys grandmother and many of Trudys aunts and female cousins, like Trudy, had long, flowing Black hair that was real close to the images of the hair of beautiful Native American women. But Chance was also prone to remind his family members that Leevatie herself had very kinky and nappy hair, a wide African nose and thick lips. She looked more African than many Africans on the continent of Africa looked even today. But it wasnt the story of how her great grandmother would start out cooking one package of pinto beans, a small skillet of cornbread and a few bunches of greens. And like a story from the Bible of how a cup runneth over, pots in this instance, someone would announce to a caller to grandmas house or to a person called from grandmas house, Grandmas cooking. And that would lead to more calls, more beans, more greens and cornmeal, probably some yams, and of course, pocket money for grandma to play her street numbers with. Speaking of street numbers, playing the numbers were a tale, a story, even a book or movie unto itself. Thats if one left out Chances tirade about how the States lottery system illegally stole that Black Market from Black people. Today that theft had never been more legal and popular. But since Trudy and Chance had too few opportunities to just chill, relax, and enjoy one anothers company uninterrupted by business and other facts of life she had every intention of taking full advantage of the occasion. Dad, tell me a story about some of the ghosts you encountered as a child, she said, smiling, looking cute like only a daughter can to her dad. Chance looked away from the window which gave him a view of the large man-made pond and combination sculpture and Japanese garden in his back yard in Valdosta Georgia and back to his daughter, who was visiting for almost two and half weeks over the summer from Grand Blanc Michigan, where she still lived with her mother. She loved horror movies even as an adolescent and now here she was 18, on her way to college and still loving them. Nothing seemed to scare her. Maybe
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Chances logic, How can you believe in God and be scared of ghosts or demons had penetrated. Who knows? Sure, Chance said, as he leaned forward on the couch he and his daughter was sharing. You never met her, for she passed before you were born. But you had a cool cousin named Vernita. She could roller skate her butt off and she was a real pretty Nurse and beautiful on the inside, too. Chance paused. Trudy could tell he was deeper in thought than he had intended on being in. She was real religious. No, actually spiritual. She went to church a lot but was still with a street-wise edge, and kept up with all of the slang at the time. But she was so nice and generous that you never realized that she was steering you towards a better way of seeing and doing things After another short pause which seemed longer than it was because of the silence between them, and seemingly with a smile on his face, a sure sign of pleasant memories, he was sort of lost in his own thoughts. While his mind temporarily roamed, Trudy remembered that everybody who knew Vernita spoke fondly of the cousin Trudy wish she had known. The fondness and respect was almost on the same level as it was for her great grandmother, who would, as mentioned earlier, start a Sunday meal for four people and wind up feeding forty people or more with take home plates to boot. Back from his trailing thoughts, Chance told her how he, his two brothers, and three sisters lived in a three bedroom apartment building on Wood Street in Flint, Michigan. Vernita lived in a big four bedroom home on Root Street, which was right around the corner from where Vernitas aunt, Chances mom lived. Chances mother had 11 sisters and 3 brothers, and most of them lived in walking distance. So everybody was always running in and out of one anothers home, mostly visiting and to see who was cooking something to eat. Vernita had only been in her home for less than a week. Those who had the guts, which was usually around a dozen or more family members and a few unbelieving members from the community, would go to Vernitas around midnight to hear a ghost. This particular ghost appeared around the same time every night. And even if the mayor himself had been there, the appearance or rather the sounds of the ghost would have been evident.
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Chance explained that they all would gather in what was once Vernitas bedroom, which she abandoned on day one; leaving bed, dressers and all behind. She said everything in the room was cursed. It was the only room in which the electricity wouldnt work despite her maintenance mans efforts to fix it. So the room was dimly lit by the moon light and the street lights. Knowing exactly when too, she would put one extended finger to her lips, and go Shhhh to hush everyone into silence. Be quiet, its about to start. That turned out to be somewhat melodramatic, like we were all about to watch a movie or something, because what happened next was loud and could be heard over talking, screaming, a loud radioit didnt matter what the surrounding noise was or might be. Just a few seconds after silencing everyone, the first sound which everyone clearly heard was unmistakably a body falling to the hard wood floor. The fall was immediately followed by heavy, labored breathing. Chance explained to Trudy that they were all hearing a mans last dying breaths. They could also hear him trying to crawl across the floor to the door. Vernita said he had been stabbed to death. Chance didnt know how she knew but they all knew that they were hearing something devilish, in a sense. And like which each night for the two weeks she had been there, Vernita would encourage all in attendance to pray. She later explained that that persons soul was stick in this life and needed to crossover into the next or afterlife. Chance didnt really understand the power of prayer then. So his eyes were always open, as he came nearly every night, as the others prayed. So hed looked for visible signs of the ghost but could only hear the heavy breathing, which probably only lasted about two or three minutes but which always seemed longer. And before the prayers were finished, everyone could hear a panic sounding final breath before the breathing suddenly stopped. The falling and breathing stopped until the next night when another group of disbelievers would come and leave believing. Shortly thereafter, the family helped Vernita move, which took some convincing because she wanted to stay and pray the restless soul to its resting place. But she had young children and Vernita respected her elders. No one ever rented that house again and it was eventually boarded up and then burned down presumably for insurance purposes. People believed in haunted houses back then, they almost had no choice. And unlike the haunted house reality shows on television today, the haunted houses during Chances youth were witnessed by more than a few.
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Her dad again became quiet for more than a moment. He was probably thinking about his cousin Vernita, Trudy noted again, because he didnt look sad. While he was quiet, she reminisced about an earlier ghost story he had told her about. The Addison Street ghost was also in Flint. There one would feel and sometime see an actual shadowy presence in the laundry room, in the day or night. And no one in the family would go in there alone, except for Chance. Alone, he saw more than his fair share of shadows and images of people walking between or around the clothes that were hung out to dry. After momentarily being frightened, Chance would yell or throw something at the ghostly noise or image. But this other widely witnessed and verifiable part was the reason children would spend the night. Every night without fail, there would be a loud eruption of banging pots and pans. The noise always woke up the entire house. It was like every pot and skillet in the house was being banged together by multiple people. Now being that Chance knew automatically that his mother was on her way to the kitchen, he would join her like she knew he would. His mother would flip on the kitchen light, and like always not a single pot or pan was disturbed. It was not unusual for long silences to be maintained between Chance and his daughter. So she even had a moment to think about a later ghost. This one was in River Park. Chances family was all sleeping and then their baby brother was awakened from his sleep by a heavy presence that was clearly in his room. Hearing the panic from his little brother, the middle brother too awoke to immediately feel the presence and understand the reason for panic. Other family members heard their cries of fear and came rushing to the room to also feel the presence. That presence made them all rush downstairs to the top of the basement where Chance slept. Hearing them, Chance rushed up the stairs. Hearing and seeing their fear, he told them to go to grandmas, which was just up the hill and where they were all going anyway. No surprise to his mother because nothing seemed to scare him or keep him scared, even as a young child. He was 16 years young at the time. Chance told them he was staying. He was still tired and now pissed. Once they all left, the presence did come down into the basement. Leave, Chance said calmly and quickly went back to sleep, even before the presence left, which it had done as Vernita had long ago said it would.
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How about lunch, Chance said, breaking the silence and interrupting Trudys ghost story reminiscing. And smoothies? You know it. Her dad made the best, thick and fruit filled smoothies. She missed that about him and even more. He missed her, too. And she forgot all about the ghosts as he put one arm around her neck to hang over her opposite shoulder, where he leaned in and threatened to sing to her. Threaten? Please dont dad. She was serious. He could rap, which was weird in itself since he was old as dirt. But her dad, he definitely could not sing. So to her the promise to sing was not only a playful threat but a real one too. Hair Show (Atlanta, GA August 2013) Taylors hairstyles were always changing. Sometimes her hair was straight or maybe wavy-curly, and at other times it was curly-kinky or kinky-coily. Chance didnt know the names of any of the styles but like most men he would go, You did something to your hair. Sometimes, though, he had to do a double-take in order to recognize his youngest daughter Taylor. Taylor and Trudy were quite different. The difference could be that they had different mothers or that Taylor lived first in Canada and now in Sweden with her mother who married a financier. Trudy would often visit her sister and other places throughout the world but her travels just reinforced why she preferred the U.S. as the other places were nice to visit but she wouldnt want to live in nearly any of them; except maybe Canada. But it didnt really matter because they left Valdosta to meet up with Taylor who as they had anticipated was now in the United States. Taylor was in Atlanta for the Bronner Bros. International Hair Show, which Taylor attended yearly and which usually conflicted with Chances schedule, as it had for the past three years, but not so this year. Since he was placed on vocal rest by his health advisors and had to cancel his 2013 concert tour. Recruitment (Flint, Michigan 1976) Chance had always thought that he would feel comfortable and relaxed in a conspiratorial zone but here he was and he felt just the opposite of comfortable and relaxed. He was anxious and closer to scared than he liked.
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After he left his grandparents home, Chance led his two followers through a construction site for another housing complex that would turn out not to be ghetto since it was privately owned and properly managed and not mismanaged by H.U.D. like River Park was. A complete apple orchard once grew were the new complex was rising. The orchard once had a few pear and peach trees, grape vines and a swamp full of turtles, minnows, frogs and was where an occasional trapped carp or speckled trout could be found. Chance used to hunt small rabbits and birds with his homemade bow and arrows, sling shots and once his uncle from Chicago came to visit, an air-pump Daisy manufactured BB-gun. However, his homemade nun chucks, spears and other martial arts weaponry werent that useful for hunting. And for some reason, Chance never got to share his love of martial arts with his uncle from Chicago. He probably didnt share because, although cool, his uncle was old as dirt. Chance learned quickly that he didnt have much of a heart for killing birds, frogs and rabbits. So after his uncle left for Chicago, after having spent a month or so in Flint, Chance resorted to capturing and making pets of the animals he had been encouraged to kill. He still had his weapons, though, which were strategically hidden throughout the thick and rarely visited woods leading to and growing along the banks of the Flint River. The weapons were hidden because when found by his mom she would throw them away, citing their dangers along with her constant warning, Boy, you going to put somebodys eye with that thing. There were woods for as far as the eye could see, starting right at the borders of the front and back of River Park and also at the borders on three sides of the new housing complex that was on the east side of River Park. Chance literally lived on the city border where urban met rural, and as he would learn, both city and rural stretched for many miles. Chance and his followers were heading east. Chance was far enough ahead to where the lady, who carried a small purse, and the man, who had a folder in his right hand, could see Chance but who were far enough behind should Chance need to make an evasive move. He was feeling a lot less anxious by then. There was one farm house that was not torn down to make way for the new housing complex. On the border of the farms property was where wild grapes and black berries still grew. Chance had earlier made friends with other youths who showed him how to make jelly and jam out of both.
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Cantaloupes also grew wild but were about a few miles south of the farm house in woods that were even thicker. Those southern woods had fallen trees and sinkholes that were treacherous to navigate in reality but which were a playground for any group of kids adventurous enough to hike the two or more miles from urban life to get there. The area that Chance led his followers to was different than the woods that surrounded it. A huge swathe of flat land jutted out with cattails and tall wild grass and caused the Flint River to run in an S-shape around it. But Chance was in the big tree, the last tree before one could come out to see that land. The man and woman were still walking casually as if out for a stroll. But once they passed underneath Chance jumped down from the tree with the nun chucks he had hidden there. He had learned early from the bullies of River Park that there was no need to talk about fighting when it was time to fight. This was such a time. Once he landed, he yelled like Bruce Lee and swung his nun chucks at the man. But it was the lady who turned, caught the incoming nun chucks with her purse as they wrapped around it and was being torn from Chances hand, all while hitting him with a roundhouse kick to the midsection. She seemed to have done all three in one effortless motion. The kick sent him flying backwards. Chance barely missed hitting his head against the big tree he had just jumped out of. Now on the ground, the man who was casually taking in the beauty of his surroundings while intentionally ignoring the short battle turned around and both he and the woman stared down at Chance calmly. Chance stared back without getting up, yet. The guy was tall, about 67 and wore a really nice suit. He had broad shoulders and had the biggest hands. He reminded Chance of the martial artist Jim Kelly but was without Jims signature afro, may Mr. Kelly rest in peace. The lady was professionally pretty, a sandy blonde, with the bluest eyes hed ever seen and hed seen some. Her skirt fell to just below her knees and she wore a simple, satin looking light blue blouse. There was no hiding, though, that she had a nice body and was physically fit. Her calves said she was a tennis player or former athlete of some other running sport. Still the tall man did not speak as the lady, who was almost about 511, would do all of the talking if Chance would learn to shut his mouth.

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What yall doing following me? Chance asked, not use to defeat and still with his arse on the ground. He was also without much of the fight that he had just moments ago. Not answering him instead the man handed the lady the brown folder that he had been carrying. Chance Vernon Johns. Says here youre a senior at Northwestern High School, a Wildcat. All As during your junior and senior years, she stated, now pausing but at no time looking at him as she read. Hmmm, seems you were a hoodlum, more than just a bit of a fuckup during your freshman year. Lots of absences and these grades So what business is it of yours? Chance demanded, standing up and wiping dirt and grass off his shorts and t-shirt. He was still angry but a lot calmer now. And he almost told her about the full ride scholarship he had just been told by the school counselor that hed earned to go to the University of Michigan in the fall. But he had no intention of trying to impress them at all. Chance had figured they were feds, since they were cold, professionally dressed and cocky. For who else would have the nerve to come to the projects and start following him like they owned the place or something? He failed to get them to verbally spare with him by asking if they were pigs, C.I.A., F.B.I. or any other government group that setup the Black Panthers and Martin Luther King. But after she asked, Hows captain Ngdegwood? it suddenly dawned on him that they might be investigating BCN. Not surprisingly, that question troubled him for many different reasons. The main reason being that he could care less about the fate of BCN. I dont know why dont you go and ask him yourself. Chance said defiantly, as the Captain was a Black-belt and she couldnt counter his attacks as smoothly as she had his, Chance thought with confidence. Ignoring him and sticking with the pattern of not looking at him while reading. Although you are a bit of a knucklehead, you can be quite rational when you set your mind to it, she said as a matter of fact. He wanted to say forget you lady but asked instead, What do yall want?

The Flint River curled around the outlet they were on and bent the river into an Sshape on one side and a C-shape on the other. Both sides were very deep, and so
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far none of the youth had been able to swim down to the bottom and bring back mud as proof. The current was strong there and many rumors about people swimming and disappearing added to the rivers fabled power. There was a dam about 5-miles to the north and sometimes it stopped the water and one could then walk out and ride on the back of carps that grew to be as big as dolphins. But even then this area of the river was still very deep even while its banks were an odd combination of dry sand and wet clay. It was hot, school was almost out, which meant that it was time to think about the beach and looking at girls who sometimes wore less than a bikini but not normally. Your country needs you, was her answer to Chances question What do yall want? She didnt even try to sound sincere. Country, what? Chance stammered. Need me for what? Look Chance. You have been identified as a potential Counter Intelligence recruit She went on to explain that they knew that he was studying Arabic, knew a little Spanish and French. They knew he had several physical confrontations with American Black Muslims and had beaten most of his schools bullies in a repeated act to protect those who were being bullied and because of his good grades was rarely ever expelled for fighting at school. She knew that he periodically checked out books from the library about Iran, Libya, and other Middle Eastern countries, and that he had been collecting materials about American White supremacy groups. They knew that he was mostly a self-taught martial artist and got into more than a few fights by coming to the aid of the bullied in the housing projects, too. She also noted that it was interesting that he never used his martial art skills outright during those fights. And she continued on like that for what seemed like another twenty minutes or so. We are prepared to train you if you accept and are willing to serve your country and government. In reality, though, he would be working outside the government, way outside, but he didnt know that yet or even if he would accept now.

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Work for the government? Ah, I dont know, Ill have to think about that one. Good, thats understandable, take your time. You have about two or three minutes to decide or else you will never see or hear from us again. And just like that she closed the folder and they both turned and started walking away. Chance watched with a moment of relief as they walked away when suddenly his mind jumped to a Bruce Lee movie. His mind was racing so fast he couldnt remember the title but it in the Chinese government recruited Bruce Lee to break up a martial art mafia drug and white slavery ring. His reminiscing was broken up as he realized that they were leaving much faster than they came because when Chance looked up again they were almost to the construction site, which was a considerable distance away. Ok, Ill do it, he yelled and Ill do it echoed across and around the lake until the silence of the summer breeze and the thankfulness of chirping birds and burping frogs restored the peace. The two stopped and to absolutely no surprise to Chance they didnt turn around. He started walking towards them, slowly, taking his sweet time. He was both scared and excited as he approached them. What was he doing? He could barely think straight. He didnt trust the government, how could he when they had just gotten busted for spying on Martin Luther King, of all people. Next he had the brilliant notion that he would get on the inside, steal their information and send it to the N.A.A.C.P. or S.C.L.C. Yeah, thats what he was going to do. With that thought he started walking faster towards the man and woman. Atlanta Hotel Room (2013) Earlier that evening, Chance had picked up both of his daughters about five hours after the Hip Hop Writing contest was over, which the young man with the pumped fist won, and where which the courageous young lady who had gotten the $100 bonus money came in second. After their hugs and I miss you and such, he and his daughters were off in their rented limousine to the hair show which made it all seem like a blur. Chance had no intention of going to the hair show; the hair show was just an occasion where he could hang out with his daughters afterwards.
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After they took off Chance was left alone and went to his Atlanta hotel room. Once there Chance remembered a vivid scene from several months ago that took place while they were all visiting his mother who had just retired as a Genesee County Supervisor and who still lived in Flint, Michigan. While in Flint, he and his daughters had visited the Flint Institute of Arts to see an exhibit of M.C. Eschers fractal based art. Despite the deeply moving art, the scene was the two of them being both giggly and googly-eyed while playfully fighting over the last copy of a coffee table book of Renaissance portraits. The book featured on its cover Girl with A Pearl Earring. Googly-eyed and giggling meant being big, bright and clear eyed. It was mostly found with youth and adults who had life filled eyes. Such eyes indicated that the person was full of lifes love and respectful of while being drawn almost uncontrollably to intellectual curiosity. Its the light of hope and seeing straight through to the positive side of life without overdue caution. Its a light that must be fought for and protected by nonintrusive sentries. The light had to be protected because cruelties of life dont often trickle in. The cruelties of life often rush in like a tsunami. But when obeying the early warnings, the higher ground saves and preserves that light. And in the preservation theres room to grow and build up what keeps bright, life loving eyes full of a healthy fire and desire for the best in life. Many youth have that light and so did the young lady in Girl with the Pearl Earring. Upon the seeing the pearled girl at the Art Institute both daughters thought she was beautiful, wanted the last copy of the book for probably no reason other than its cover. They probably also remembered their dad answering a Jeopardy question on TV related to the portrait some time ago. That was when Chance still lived in Flint and worked as a dedicated Social and Public Health Interventionist Researcher at the University of Michigan, where one or both of them often tagged along while he worked. As chance would have it he had heard of a gifted jewelry designer, while mentioning the painting casually to a stranger one day. The stranger was telling Chance which art galleries to visit after he finished celebrating his finish at another one of those Black Girls Run 5K races, which were held all around the country. Was the race in Baltimore? D.C.? He couldnt remember exactly, because between them, the Valdosta Running Club and the Black Marathoners (over the years) he had been attending races all across the country and on several continents. Chance believed in exer-cultural vacations. Exer-cultural was his word for
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describing a vacation where both absorbing the local culture and exercise were all part of the plan for relaxation. Cultural education was all about natural flow. As a matter of fact, following his stay in Atlanta with his daughters, he would be back in Flint, Michigan for a weekend to run in the Crim 10-mile Road Race there and would then a few days later travel from Flint to a charity event in Colorado. He planned to take as many of his Valdosta Running Club associates as he could convince to go to Flint with him, too. He also planned to take full advantage of his vocal rest and vacated concert schedule for 2013. Still, he couldnt quite remember where he was at for the Black Girls Run 5K race. He would look up that race information later. But he did remember that the lady there was a Toyota salesperson with whom he had been chatting with occasionally about running on Facebook. She was the one who had invited him to that particular 5K race. Her name was Pam and she was also familiar with the painting and pulled up on her phone the designers name. The designer was Noor Fares. Noor, it turned out, had designed a pendant which featured the renowned renaissance girl. After going to the internet and following up on that conversation in his hotel room, he learned that the designer had also created a ring and broach, and that the portrait of the girl was hand-painted, mind you, on cabochon domes of rock quartz crystal. Chance had ordered two pendants, at $8,835 each for his daughters and had the pendants overnighted to the hotel. He planned to present the pendants to his daughters at breakfast or dinner once they returned from the hair show, which was a combination of a fashion and celebrity sighting show. They had gotten to Atlanta about a week before the show, and enjoyed the parks and sites and being alone with each other thats why Chance didnt mind being alone then. Nevertheless, it would most likely be during dinner when he presented their departure gifts. They probably wouldnt be dropped off by their female limousine driver, who also doubled as their chaperone, until well after 2 A.M. Only their mothers gave them curfews. Either way, theyd be goggly-eyed and giggly whenever they got back. And he was sure to get a genuine hug of approval for that daddys pendant move. Hopefully, theyd hug and kiss his cheeks simultaneously so that he could get the full effect of being overwhelmed by the pride from a captured moment of well accomplished fatherhood.
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Comforted by that last thought, he grabbed his lap top. It was a Lenovo laptop so it also doubled as an iPad. While on it he began working on some new pieces of music he was developing. He unmuted the Bose sound system which came with the room and began to listen to the new artist Laura Mvulas CD, Sing to the Moon. Music from Chrisette Michele or Jill Scott was sure to follow, as he was in a creative mood and today was his off day from training and running. The hotel room was quiet and the big window curtain was open to a view of Olympic Park and a wide awake Atlanta, although it was a little past midnight. Regardless of when his two daughters popped into their adjoining suite, he planned to be awake and working. Theyd expect nothing less. WEARABLE PHONES Graphene was sewn into the lining of belts, suspenders, ties, underwear, shirt collars or cuffs, bras and panties so that just about anything wearable could be programmed with the equivalent of 1,000 Sims cards which in essence could be used as throwaway phones. And like Steve Jobs, who was a recovering hippie with a thirst for innovation, proved in the 1980s any telecommunications network could be accessed without permission and without cost; except for the price thats paid when caught red handed. It pissed the telecommunication giants off but their egos allowed Chances security breaches to remain internal and not part of any sweeping governmental investigation. The breaches were instead handled as a corporate challenge. As far as the corporate executives were concerned their own well paid security intelligence staff would eventually develop a firewall or algorithm that would block or capture the crook or crooks, which in their minds was a short list that included Anonymous, Wikileak sympathizers or misguided converts. What the giant telecommunication industries like Sprint, AT&T, Verizon Wireless and others failed to realize was that they werent up against a rogue supercomputer or some loosely built network of hackers. They were battling something that supposedly did not to exist, a quantum computer. And they were battling it with outdated technology that they considered cutting edge since it was forever being upgraded and had a super computer status. Again, their ego was at work. Their ego was feeding biases by working against those who failed to realize or admit what those biases were.

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Despite wide corporate ignorance, the technology here was built on the assumption that only our biases and conditioned beliefs get in the way of innovation. Steve Jobs shouted that from the mountain tops, and despite the echo from that shout traveling seemingly to infinity down the canyons of knowledge, it was shut off by biases anyway. Thats why many psychologists believed that the ego will either set one free or create many compartments of self-imprisonment, which many refer to as selfdelusions. But lacking those impediments was why this technology was so different and allowed Chance to selectively work off the grid. A part of the laser thin graphene, although amongst the strongest material in the world, was also very conductive. Graphene had much greater conductivity than copper or steel and that conductivity was substantially increased as its temperature was lowered. The closer to zero degrees it got, the more conductive graphene was and it remained in that state. From there the graphene was fashioned like a wafer thin microchip, while other parts could gather unlimited amounts of solar energy for power use and for storage. The result was a custom wardrobe phone, or wearable phone as Chance called it. Actually, a single wearable phone had enough power to provide all of the electrical needs of several homes for a week or more off of just one charge. As for how much energy could be collected, no one really knew but someone in the near future was sure to go to a laboratory to measure, weigh and document the full storage capacity. Or had the Unknown Committee already accomplished that? That question aside, and as was the norm for the technology that Chance got from the Unknown Committee, the wearable phone was overkill to prevent hackers from snooping and to prevent government sourced telecommunication agencies from tracking. It provided a sense of over-efficiency and thus helped the operator maintain a high level of confidence with its use. The phone was flexible and adaptable to those events that would qualify as unintended consequences. With this wearable phone there was no such thing as a battery indicator with low bars or dropped signals from being outside of a network. There was no chance of being outside or inside of a network for the wearable phone also provided for its on Wi-Fi hotspots. And yes, it was also equipped with a distortion field application that would automatically activate

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anytime a drone or satellite attempted to lock onto the users location or pry into any aspect of the users network, to include social networks. The latter aspect really pissed off Goggle who received a red flag whenever there was any unauthorized usage of their site or a spike in information retrieval. But what really pissed them off even more was that they couldnt track or stop the breach and to their warped egos that made the infiltrator smarter than them. So in their minds, this was the warped part, only temporarily smarter; meaning that they wouldnt report what amounted to espionage to the government because Google would inevitably also misclassify it as an internal security breach. Not that it any of it mattered much because even the N.S.A. wouldnt have been able to snoop on the operator of the wearable phone which was far more advanced than Google Glasses. The phone was impenetrable by even the Silicon Valleys best technological advances. Operation of the phone was rather simplistic. Once the voice of the owner was recorded, there was no override. The volume, e-mail and all other functions was voice activated. When the wearer opened their shirt, if thats how it was programmed, Facebook could be projected onto any wall or surface and manipulated via voice regardless of any ambient sounds. The phone weighed only 0.00005 lbs. It was waterproof and virtually indestructible, unlike laptops and Ipads which required careful handling. Interestingly, corporations were full of similar concept devices which work right now. But getting approval of products was just as much a political process as it was capital dependent one. Many products were on hold until they could be scaled up to market as the products were priced well above the range of the average consumer. Still, sometimes it was easier to get into Fort Knox than it was to acquire the technological concepts that werent available on the market. Its amazing what can be bought, borrowed, or cloned from the black market, which Chance considered the only real free market that the world has ever known. Just how the Unknown Committee had managed to obtain such clever devices was unknown too. Recruitment (Flint, MI 1976) Chance had the suspicious Flint River encounter with his followers in June. He had two weeks left before graduating from high school. He was pretty much just cruising alone like seniors typically do, especially since he was on the honor roll with a 4.0 G.P.A. and was well liked. So, of course, the principal, counselors,
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teachers, and others greeted him kindly and never asked him for a hall pass or question any of his comings and goings. Chance wasnt doing much, though, but wondering who those people really were and who they worked for and if they were serious about him working for the government. About a week before his graduation he got his answer. In just that short period of time, they had him and his mother attend a Navy recruitment session. His mom didnt know that it was a fake enlistment. Chance didnt either but he was learning quickly not to be fooled by appearances. His mom, on the other hand, was beaming with pride. Science Committee (Washington, DC 2013) The audience of scientists looked perplexed, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the incoming halogen head lights of a fast approaching BMW. How could so much ice be melted so fast and they not know how it was happening? And furthermore, what kind of technology could cause global warming on an apocalyptic scale and in a manner less than minutes? It was just not possible. Mugged by reality and trying to cling to a denialist position the Scientific Committee neither wanted to nor knew how to deal with the crisis before them. Jimmicas partner was a new hire and had been assigned to her for less than four months. He was still learning how to maneuver around Washington and the many committees that they were tasked with briefing. He looked at Jimmica, who nodded before he interjected, Well, look at it like this then. This quantum computer, which may or may not be linked to the melted ice iceberg that were talking about writes its on algorithms on the fly. It discards the least effective ones for the most effective ones so whoever these people are they are learning about new algorithms that most programmers would never even begin to conceive of. If that sounds scary thats because it is some 10 to 100 years ahead of its time. Actually the huge ice melt was like a reverberation. If they could have witnessed it, they would have seen that it seemed to begin on one end of the ice but actually began on the opposite end. But the reverberation moved so fast and on such an unprecedented scale that satellites could not perceive the wave that gave an optical and technological illusion of being the opposite of what it actually was. Thats why Chances position could never be triangulated by satellites for a global positioning point. In other words, the input to the satellites was wrong from the start, because the input was an illusion, so in turn would be the output of the satellites surveillance results.
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Navy Recruitment

(San Diego, CA 1977)

Chance was considering going AWOL, illegally escaping from his military commitment. He had postponed the acceptance of a scholarship to the University of Michigan and was now in his final week of the Navys basic training. The Navy was promising and all but he hadnt signed on for military service although he had come to bond with a few guys there from Detroit, and a really cool redheaded guy from nearby Farmington Hills, MI who loved the music of Peter Frampton and especially Pink Floyds The Wall like Chance did. Despite his current reservations Chance had helped a lot of those guys get through boot camp. It was natural for him to take the lead and to seek to outdo the other groups of recruits. The Navy both loved and encouraged it. Anthony (Valdosta, GA Summer 2012) Chance had strategically placed some night motion sensor cameras along the creek which bordered his back yard. It was the same type of camera system that photographers for National Geographic used to capture images of rare species in the wild, so being in a creek was easy for those cameras which could be placed in the cold of Siberia in Russia and still operate properly. His man made fishing pond was in the front yard. Chances sculpture and combination Japanese garden was in the western portion of his back yard and bordered by the creek. The creek itself ran alongside Valloton Park and cut through the campus of Valdosta State University. The creek flowed for miles and pretty much served as a natural storm drainage system. Chance had noted the time last night when the frogs stopped croaking. The only reason he didnt go out to check and stalk whatever or whoever might have been out there was because he didnt want to alarm Mya, his new Georgia peach that he had been dating for about half a year now. Mya lived near and worked at Valdosta State University. She was a twentysix year young Assistant Psychology Professor. His last real date before Mya was with Dr. Doll from Atlanta who had tried to feed him like he was a vegan rabbit. Mya had to go to work, so she had left earlier that morning after a light breakfast that was an English muffin and two cups of coffee. She would have left sooner but Chance kept making her laugh. He also kept kissing her and feeling on her booty. She warned him about five times that he was going to make her late for work and to not start something that he wouldnt be able
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to finish. It was all done to see her smile, though. A good morning usually led to a great day when clothed in the spiritual armor of positive vibes. As soon as she left he went down to the creek. Once there Chance waded into the water and pulled back the brush to grab and see if the first camera had been activated. He saw no green activation light for the first one. The red light indicated the same for the second camera. But the third camera, which was directly out beyond his enclosed patio and master bedroom upstairs was activated, the green light was on. Only a large animal or person would typically active the camera or silence the burping frogs. He input the time period he wanted to view into the camera and immediately the image of what looked like a young teenager came into view. Moments later another and maybe even younger boy came into view. They both were crouching on the bank of the creek and looking in the direction of Chances patio. They both eventually disappeared from the cameras view as they climbed from the bank and onto the lawn which lead to the partial botanical garden which was in the eastern portion of his backyard and which was under construction as part of the overall extension of the sculpture and Japanese garden. On the side of his home was a hydroponic green house where he grew fresh fruit and vegetables, and it too was visibly connected to the gardens. Rewinding the camera, he noticed that one of the boys faces looked familiar but Chance could not place where hed seen him before at that moment. Lucky for them they were clearly boys or else Chance would have set an unwelcoming trap should they ever try to trespass on his property again. Instead he chalked it up to voyeuristic driven mischief and did not have to wonder about what the boys were looking at or for. But he did wonder if it was a first time or a frequent occurrence that he was somehow not aware of. And just how much of his and Myas states of nakedness had they observed? He wasnt sure how he was going to handle the intrusion but it would involve not letting Mya know as he wanted her to remain comfortable and plus he would allow the dogs to roam outside at night if it wasnt too hot although the geese out by the front lawn and frogs in the backyard wouldnt like that. Navy Recruitment (San Diego, CA 1977) It was a day of excitement. Chance and the other recruits had on their Navy dress uniforms with their merit badges for sharp shooting, deep sea diving and other medals all on display. Chance liked this part as the uniform was a female magnet.
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He was attracted with caution though, for he missed Joan who was now a senior in high school and who didnt write him frequently enough. They had grown a little more distant ever since he announced that he was enlisting in the Navy. Her response, Im not getting on any boat and going across the ocean. She couldnt swim, which was odd since she was Chances girlfriend and he was the outdoor type but she wasnt. They were like opposites attract in many other ways also. Chance and Joans original plans of him going to medical school at the University of Michigan were ruined as far as she was concerned. How could she explain the change of plans to her mother and friends? She, herself, wasnt all that interested in school but he was and thats right where he belonged she figured. Still, she made sure that he would miss her and gave him a wonderful send off for his escape from Flint. He couldnt escape the excitement of the other recruits, however, and he was just as excited. This was the day that they all were to receive their orders, which meant learning where they would be assigned. California, Hawaii and Japan were all hoped for destinations. Chance, too, was caught up in the spirit of excitement before he was summoned to the base commanders office. But when he got there the commander wasnt there instead both of his Unknown Recruiters were waiting. As usual, he didnt talk and she did. But this time even she didnt say much. Chance still didnt know their names or what government agency they really were from. But his recruiters, as he had come to think of them, simply just had him to go and pack his gear and from that moment on he would never see a naval base again nor was there any official record of his having ever been there. Anthony (Valdosta, GA Summer 2012) Chance was at the Family Dollar store on North Ashley Street. He stopped there on his way home after running with a group from the Valdosta Running Club, of which he was a member. Family Dollar was where he got his Gatorade, trailnuts, gum, chocolate fix and toiletry items. He was probably the only millionaire that shopped there, although few in Valdosta knew that he was rich since he lived modestly and only introduced himself as retired from the University of Michigan, which he was in a way. More importantly the manager at this particular store was cute as heck, Lebanese or Latino maybe. More importantly, he liked the way she treated her young Black employees with outward respect and did all of the same jobs that she asked them to do, instead of managing from a distance like some small minded overlord micro-managers do.
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Chance never hit on her though. That impulse was squashed by her professional demeanor and the prospect that she probably didnt date her customers. Anyway he and Mya were seeing each other more frequently and although she was much younger than he, there seemed to be little drama potential in her. And the sex was better than expected, although she was wearing him out but he loved it with a smile. Taking his time and noticing the managers absence, she was probably at lunch or in the back, he excused himself as he walked by a young man who was restocking a shelf near the oral hygiene display. Chance was about to squeeze on by him and his ladder, which took up most of the aisle, before he glanced up and hesitated. No it couldnt be. Was it one of the young men in the tape? No it couldnt be because the oldest one looked 15 maybe 16 years old. Didnt you have to be 18 to work here? He wondered. Then it dawned on him the young man on the ladder could pass for 16 with his boyish looks. Pretending to need direction, Chance looked up again and asked where the pad locks were so that he could read the young gentlemans name tag, which read Anthony. Chance made note of it and thanked him for his help. Youre welcomed sir, Chance heard him say from the ladder as he continued to where the young man had directed him. His youthful innocence bothered Chance for another reason. It was around the time of the Trayvon Martin murder and the non-arrest of his crazed profiling vigilante. Even Whites who were vocally opposed to thugs were upset about that one. And every time Chance saw an Arizona tea can, which was also one of his favorite beverages or a bag of Skittles he could not help but think about that young mans senseless death, as had so many others. Just as bad there was Kendrick KJ Johnsons on-going investigation from his death, which Chance believed was murder, at Lowndes High School. It seemed as if as soon as he and thousands if not millions of others were able to take a deep breath and wait out the slow crawl towards justice that a fresh incident would occur to reawaken the old wounds of injustice. Thats why he had run 10-miles instead of his customary 5-miles with the running group. He needed to blow off the steam and not let it turn to hatred, plus he was training for the Crim 10 miler in Flint, which took place during the 4th Saturday of August. It helped that most of the runners with him were White and just as perplexed by the surrounding circumstances and that many White people
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were at the downtown Valdosta rallies in peaceful protest right alongside Blacks, Hispanics and Asians. There were so many cool White people, from the antislavery Quakers until now who just didnt get the credit that they were due in the fights for social justice. Some aspects of society looked well like it was 2012, and other aspects looked bad like it was 1962. Unfortunately, neither the run nor or the fellow runners and their empathy was enough at the moment to squash another round of disbelief regarding the American criminal justice system. Terrorist Torture (Syria 2011) Chance was a dual personality, sort of like Wayne Brady was when he pretended to gangsta terrorize Dave Chappelle. Like Wayne, Chance was a handsome and non-threatening looking Black man. Chance was comfortable with the White inspired sensibilities of social politeness, non-overt violent communities, readily apparent social order, non-parasitic and network oriented religion, and Western based educational ideologies. The duality that rose from underneath that was a drug dealers sense of entrepreneurship, violence as a social means of negotiating, raw-untarnished profanity for expressed non-mixed message communication, lewd and repressive expressions of sexuality, and applying the inheritance of social disorder and an overall fuck you if you fuck with me attitude. To Chance, Black Pantherism, Malcolm X-ism and other counter cultures to the Civil Rights Movement was where the Hip Hop generation got their distorted attitude of respect at any cost from. Thats also why Chance was calm as an ice cube and would take a seat and patiently wait after he poured a petri-dish full of flesh eating bacteria onto his captives exposed balls. With flesh being the buffet, there wasnt room enough at the table of his scrotum so many of the bacterium migrated to his anus. Still calmly watching the effect take place that was not visible to the naked eye but no less violent, the tortured man would begin to talk for all of his pain was about to be nerve centered. Although it wasnt part of the initiative of the probe, this was how Chance found out about the manufacturing plot, that he later e-mailed to Jimmica, when he was really probing for suicide bomber plots. Sometimes he just loved unintended consequences.
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For an Arab and stereotype, he was well hung. But that didnt help as he felt the ciliated movements of the bacteria working its way into his pee hole, from which blood started to trickle. He didnt scream or feel the pain until he saw the blood. It was like reminding his brain to alert him to the pain of being eaten from within. Earlier, it was explained to the kidnapped Arab that the sooner he talked about the plots the sooner the pain would end. And tell me everything. Those open ended statements were what lead to the manufacturing plot, because the kidnapped terrorists instinctive need for survival kicked in and so did the reasoning of leaving no stone, plot in this instance, unturned. Out of the pain and mix of fear, the terrorist feared that his torturer might know if he was lying and holding out. And the pain he was experiencing was nothing like the antiinterrogation pain described in his terrorist backed anti-interrogation trainings. Thats why Chance had chosen him. He was young, 24, and the nephew of a field organizer for al-Qaida. He even had their black nationless flag on his person when Chance captured him as he took a piss after leaving from his clandestine visit with a local prostitute who doubled as his familys housekeeper. All of the young single men shared her. In times of war, there was little thought of marriage. But in the young terrorists mind he and the others were still devout Muslims who must kill all infidels. Chance was an infidel so there was easily a complete lack of empathy for both the young jihadist and his uncles. Because of the Arabs uncle Chance knew that just the dinner table talk, with the rants and raves alone would often be filled with plot references and motivations for eyeing certain targets. Bedroom and table talk was the best areas to seek reluctant informants. As a rule, all silent codes for secrets breakdown as they age and as they are internally leaked further on down the chain to those who dont need to know. The later was especially true in India, Pakistan and Syria where one could get just about anything and any information from a woman, especially a student or a neglected wife in a harem, if they could obtain a certain amount of gold as the promised reward. Gold was haggled over but never rejected. And the will to live and spend that gold ensured their silence. There was no gold involved this time just pain

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The victimizing victim was strapped in a chair and had reminded Chance of Kumar, a Rapper from India, who once tipped Chance off about a plot to kidnap him, the Black and rich American Rapper during a concert in England. Chance never heard from Kumar again, who was a Sunni Muslim, after the foiled plot. But even without Kumars help, Chance had a feeling that the Asian Sistahs would have intervened. Although he didnt see them he now knew they were somehow nearby with him while he was unlawfully in war torn Syria. Chance missed Kumar, but like many Sunnis and Shiites before the Arab Spring, plenty of Muslims and foreigners who were friends and traders before the uprisings were now enemies who were pushed into sectarian groups through the stealth of dictators, religious leaders, legitimate governments and government recruited warlords. Unfortunately to Chance, it was rather easy to get people to hate others who appear strange or because they were different from what was expected. But due to the current circumstances, Chance didnt really care about who his captive favored. He had vital information and Chance had retrieved from his captive far more than he was seeking. The young man would probably be killed after being debriefed by his uncles and friends shortly after Chance released him. But for now it was a welcomed relief that he felt as Chance sprayed an antidotal anti-biotic onto the areas where the flesh-eating bacteria had been slowly doing its damage. Chance knew it was working rapidly by the look of relief on the Kumar look a likes face Chance untied him and he almost fell out of the chair. He was still weak and drowsy from the blood loss and was aching from the scar tissue that was painful healing within his dick and ass. It would take a little more than an hour for him to be able to walk. All he would be able to report was that a very tall nonracially identifiable man with a slight American Arab accent and white gloves and who wore a batman mask had kidnapped him. By then Chance would be out of Syria and into the friendlier frontier of Jordan, from where he would fly back to the Indian border. India was his cover and was where he was supposedly at with the other American celebrities who were all taking in a week long Bollywood like festival, which Chance was thankful not to be in as the fan sought Insubordinate due to his publicly mandated vocal rest. Trudy Mother and Taylors Mother (Flint, MI 1994) Taylor was cute as heck with her shiny, slightly darkened and naturally dirtyblonde hair. Taylor was his youngest daughter but he was estranged from her due
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to her mother having made a rather casual and idol threat of hiring someone to kill him. Had she not been his daughters mother, he would have killed her for certain. But instead he thanked God that she had married a Swedish millionaire and moved out of the country. That happened before Chance was officially rich and now that he could have a relationship with his daughter without mommy interference, it was all good, healthy and the bond was strong as if formed by a chemical like reaction of independence and the absence of second and third party controls that only served as interference. Trudys mother was different. She was bi-sexual. But when she and Chance first started to date she claimed to be homo-uninterested, What can a woman do for me, except lick it? Or, "I'm strictly dickly," which she was not. Although they were both living in Flint at the time, they met while working at a Ford Supplier in New Hudson, Michigan. Chance was the foreman there and she worked in Quality Control. She was Black Indian pretty, with real waist length hair and artist visualized breasts. Her name was Sahara. Sahara always looked very nice and tried her best to dress conservatively; although her body had other ideas. And the more the other women hated her hair is a weave the more they made themselves look bad. No matter what she did though, she couldnt hide from being sexy, so just about all of the guys hit on her except for Chance. He didnt date the women that he worked with. That personal policy of his, of course, made her more interested in him. So she slowly sucked him in, rather intentionally or unintentionally, with the feminine appeal to his hero complex. As a matter of pride for some men, Chance was a definite I can save you woman man. Back during the mid-1990s, Chance was an occasional drinker and marijuana smoker. That party mix was mostly used as cover to blend in as a real, flawed guy and rising Rapper. That way he could camouflage the real reason why he worked at Ford, which was corporate espionage. While working through a second tier supplier, Chance could waltz right on into Fords corporate headquarters and be on official business. And like clockwork, after speaking and getting to know the names of just a few of the line workers and office workers, he would become a familiar visitor to them and from there loose lips began to show how they sink ships.

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Then there were also the office file drawers that were too frequently left unattended and computers files left open. And the servers were usually on what Chance called ghost floors, floors where few workers and were allowed. Security was the geek or two who maintained the servers and they were frequently absent as they could monitor their work off site. Loose lips sink ships aside, while pretending to be just one of the guys hed go to bars after work with co-workers to places like Lyon Township, Howell or Brighton. On one occasion in Lyon, Sahara was there. After mingling with others, he and she got to talking and became cool after that. Then after a few more occasions of bumping into each other after work, they were at a party in Detroit. The party was thrown by the warehouse worker and drug dealer, who was like most Detroiters cool and laid back. He was a dealer who didnt use his own product and who stayed under the radar for the years that Chance was there, probably because he extended credit and didnt press too hard for repayment. At the party, after much wine and food, Chance started to notice that other men had been backing off of Sahara when he was around. That and some women were giving him that look, like he and Sahara were a pair or something. Still, Sahara seemed cool, she had the most beautiful smile and after too much drinking opened up to him about how her two childrens father raped her from the time she was 16 to 24 years young. Both of her parents had passed when she was just 15 years young, in an airplane accident, and her older brothers quickly became drug dealers and bargain based protectors of her. Her rapist baby daddy was a contractor and married to her older sister. Like a flipped version of the madness in the Color Purple, rape of nieces by uncles, cousins, boyfriends and step dads was at one time the norm and its prevention required the constant vigilance of church going aunts. She had two children by the villain and the story of her plight and pain touched his heart. Her sisters husband was also her landlord and had controlled her finances before she got the temp position at the plant. She was desperate, as most temps didnt usually make it past 90 days and Chance, a sucker for heroism, was pretty much sucked in. Although they didnt sleep together for the first 30 days or so after Chance made sure she was hired permanently one of his co-workers, Becky, who was Vanessa Williams-fine and with a similar elegance and grace, disapproved of what she saw developing between Chance and Sahara. Chance listened, as he respected Beckys opinion, but he didnt hear her.
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Eventually they slept together. The sex was ok, more like a duty on Saharas part. She definitely wasnt Joan, with whom the sex was always good and which kept getting better and better, or wetter and wetter as Chance referred to their codependency love. Codependency? Sex was virtually the only glue to hold their relationship together. Sahara got pregnant by way of a broken condom. Chance had never experienced a broken condom for he and Joan never used a condom. Joan was on the pill, sometimes. Chance knew something wasnt right because the depth of Sahara was feeling too good, much better than at any other time. Then in his thirties, and although a disciplined killer and information thief, he had the sexual impulse control of an adolescent when about to get a nut. After he exploded in her, and since it was all the better since it was one of the few times that she actually came from penetration and couldnt hold back the sensations of being out of control from their simultaneous orgasm, Chance pulled out real late to reveal that he had punched clear through the condom. Damn, you Chance, she had said then seeing the condom covering only half of his penis. Saharas face seemed torn between pleasure and displeasure, in other words she had looked even more beautiful to him at that moment. It broke. I can see that and it aint funny, Chance. Chance was smiling and barely containing a laugh during what should have been a serious and borderline disappointing circumstance. Youre pregnant. Dont say that shit, she said, sounding a little more serious. And during their moment of silence, while trying to find the right words for the situation, she got to thinking about how he was always right about so many things. How do you know? He wanted to say because outside of Joan that was the most powerful orgasm Ive had in sometime, but instead said, Trust me, youre pregnant and its a girl. In short, thats how Trudy was conceived. Condom be damned, Im coming into this world.

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Like many, Chance took too many sexual Chances prior to the AIDs crisis. Because of Joan and the failure to impregnate one or two other young ladies, while all of his teenage buddies were baby making machines, Chance really believed he was infertile and was afraid to get medical confirmation. He and Joan had been having sex since he was 16 and she 14. They both had pretty much learned about sex from one another. What he didnt know was that she was having many side-effects from taking the pill and that women just didnt discuss such matters with non-listening and non-hearing men. It would have just been a waste of time, anyway, since men just dont understand anything that doesnt lend itself to what they want. As a young man Chance was that type of man. He was softened by her. Joans body was perfect, her voice soft and sweet and her eyes were always full of love for him. He was addicted to her and the feelings that provided. And she in turn professed to feel very safe and protected when with him and she was addicted to that sense of security. Plus he always seemed to have money, although she had no idea where it came from and instinctively knew not to ask. Still, unknown to him, she had had two separate and secret abortions. She had one abortion when she was 19 and the other when she was just 25. There were many mission oriented interruptions during their 33 year on and off again relationship and that gave her plenty of room to cover her tracks. Plus her family disapproved of him and his family disapproved of her, so that didnt help matters. Although their splits usually lasted merely a few months, once they got into their mid-20s their breakups were less frequent but lasted a lot longer when they did occur. They mostly argued over his traveling and her insecurities involved him being with other women, which was not true as his horniness upon his returns home was his positive and horny proof of that. Their longest breakup lasted six years and brought them to their late thirties. It was also a period where Chance had Trudy and Joan had a daughter by someone else, too. Sometime at the end of that six year break Joan bumped into one of Chances aunts who gave Joan his phone number. And as usual, Chance was single, mad at Sahara and sick of the other women he dated and their baggage claim of broken hearts, lost loves, insecurities and teenage like phone monitoring. Chance had not too long finished college, worked a short stint at a local newspaper, and had now been working at the University of Michigan after
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transitioning away from the Ford Supplier. He was glad to see Joan and they had a lot of catching up to do. Back into the sack he and Joan went. But his time it was different. The sex was good but this time that goodness would be short lived. There was a deep desperation about her and a strong sense of loneliness. She also had a picture of some pimp dressed guy in a hat or her dresser. Chance learned that he had a key to her apartment but that he never came around anymore. Chance used to be the guy with that key, and he always came around. Chance hardly dranked at the time and all other drugs were off limits also. He was consumed by anti-terrorist activities at the time and was getting more serious about Soul Rapping, which was a new genre he was developing but which he said he was reviving. Joan didnt know about either development. But trying to resist Joan was like fighting the Borg in Star Trek, resistance was futile; except for that time. He learned that she had uterine cancer and could only say, I know when he reminded her about all of his years of preaching about fibroid tumors and her need to go get checked out during their 1980s and 1990s dating. As usual, she ignored his advice and he had messed up by allowing her to ignore it. And as usual, his misread her reasons for seemingly ignoring his advice. Love should have made him take her to the doctor and in hind sight she would have gone as it was fear of going to the doctor alone that had prevented her from going in the first place. Such was the state of the illiteracy of reading into intent. Prior to being recruited by the Unknown Committee in the late 1970s, Chance was on the fast track to medical school and pursuing his teenage dream of becoming a psychoanalyst and exposing Freud as a fraud. Chance was so gifted in Psychology, Microbiology, Anatomy, Algebra, and Chemistry that everyone who knew him thought it would be just a matter of time before he became a doctor. He had even earned a full-ride scholarship to the University of Michigan. But as usual, his studies would not be as sharp, or so it seemed, when he was with Joan. That was the main reason his family disapproved of Joan and why his mom would always introduce him to the daughters of respectable doctors and educators, who could be found at Urban League, NAACP, Democratic and other progressive social meetings at the time.

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The parents at those meetings would inevitably love Chance because few teenagers could carry on a full conversation with men and women then or now. But he was not so interested in their beautiful doll-like but shallow daughters. And ten or more minutes of silence between them confirmed that. There was nothing to talk about, no reference point to connect too. But as for the former reference, Chance felt hurt and betrayed by the two abortions. He often ranted and asked, what kind of law would allow her to kill his sons without at least having to consult him first? It was her body but 13 of his chromosomes was the scientific proof that his DNA was in her and that the state shouldnt be able to veto that fact like it had. One of Joans appeals to Chance, beside her head to toe beauty, was that she was sweet, kind and he never ever caught her in a lie. She was nice, open and completely honest. And the fact that it was her mother that made her reveal the truth hurt even more. He had always wanted to marry Joan. No other woman would do but whenever they got close to marriage she would do something outrageous, usually argue and bring up his travels or his cheating 19 years ago, when he was a teenager, or just simply accused him of not being serious and then disappear for a while. But he was serious about abortion. He had always considered it murder. During his rants, she said that she did too. The first abortion he reckoned was probably orchestrated by her functioning alcoholic mother. But what was her excuse for the second abortion? She was 25 then. Although he didnt know it he was still paying heavily for leaving her alone to make the decisions that they both should have been making jointly. So he was as much to blame for the abortions as she was; only later Chance wouldn't quite see that social equation. All he would see was what he would feel and what he would feel was the pain of a deep and irretrievable loss. He wouldnt see that no one should have to make hard choices alone or apart from the person or people most affected. Twice her protection wasn't there when it was most needed. That absence contributed as much to the worse possible decisions regarding life and death as had anything else. One of the abortions probably occurred before he returned to the U.S. from a student-exchange program. He used the program as cover to slip from Egypt into Libya where he had completed his torture and interrogation mission. Joan just kept delaying telling him as his delight for seeing her made it just that much harder to do.
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So of course upon his return he was horny as heck and had occasionally been corresponding by letter with Joan, during the 1990s before e-mail was developed well enough to displace mail. He wrote to her about the promises of love and the missing of each others embrace and company. He needed her back then and wanted her so badly that he rushed back to the U.S., where they ripped off one another clothes. But in 2006, the last time they tried to be a couple, she was sour. She was sourly and bitter about the life she had and angry about her preventable but not prevented cancer. She was also sour because the chemotherapy was more poisonous than anything else. Sometimes Chance could even taste the chemos side effects when sucking her nipples. Worse, the wild hormonal imbalances caused frequent unpleasant odors to come from her vagina. And she also had a hysterectomy due to the cancer. Chance would have comforted her through all of that but she was too ashamed by the secrets she held and the unusual condition she was in to seek comfort. The hysterectomy, in a way, was why they were together then. The picture of the pimp dressed guy in the hat on her dresser was a co-worker. He was a janitor and she was a nurse at Hurley Hospital in Flint where she worked and where Chances cousin, Vernita worked and had died from complications due to surgery there. The guy on her dresser had told her that she was less than a woman, only half a woman without her uterus. That piece of information was shared well before the abortion scandal was shared, so the gallantry that all men consider healthy under challenging circumstances reinforced the hero complex in Chance and drew him closer. It really came naturally because he loved Joan and she could never be half a woman in his eyes. He also thought that she would never lie to him, either. Sex and her honesty were the two things that kept their fragile, second and third party ruled love alive. Now the sex was a chemically poisoned fruit and the truth as the foundation of teenage inspired love was shattered by the forced complications of adulthood and messy emotions. And despite all of that they tried for eighteen months to repair the damage that they both had done. It required a great deal of internal strength but maybe thats why Chance grew from bitterness to embracing the joy and pain with the same intensity. He learned from hurt to embrace the people and thoughts which fed the spirit and kept
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them both alive, and to feed from the words and vibes in the world which allowed both to continue to love and hug more deeply. Those were the times when he would read Susan Taylors collection of essays In the Spirit or Khalil Gibrans The Prophet. When he needed spiritual help, he didnt rely on himself he leaned on others. Just as Joan had leaned on him but with burdens that were too heavy to bear. After learning about their mutual burden he buried himself in work and found solace in his daughter. He had Taylor a few years later. It was also during the eighteen months of trying to stick it out that Joan began to drink and curse more in a drunken rage. Then when she refused to stop smoking cigarettes, even when Trudy came around, he couldnt take any more. She knew it, so they pretended that she was leaving him for all of the old reasons from their youth. Chance not only resigned from being with Joan he would also in a few years retire early from his job at the University of Michigan. His Rap career was beginning to explode and he never even shared much about that aspect of his life with Joan, for he was still hustling mixed-tapes then while living with a mixed-up woman as a mixed-up man. Daughters Leaving Atlanta (Summer 2013) His daughters never left Atlanta without first eating some BBQ or left Valdosta without first loading up on pecans. They got their pecans from the South Georgia Pecan Company; or rather Trudy got gift baskets for Taylor, her mom, and several others to take back with her to Flint and Grand Blanc Michigan when she got on her flight which left in less than seven hours for Trudy and for Taylor less than five hours. In the meantime they were headed up I-75 to Acworth for Zeiglers ribs. That previous night they did come in around 3:30 AM and both sat on the couch with their dad, as their excitement from all of what they had seen and experienced came to an end with them both sleeping on opposite shoulders of their dad. It had been a long two weeks for all of them. Those two weeks were jammed packed with a hair show, shopping, movies, outdoor concerts, waterparks and other activities. And thats where they were, one on each of his shoulders, when they all woke up about 5-hours later, which was much too soon. Upon awaking, they all hurriedly showered and changed clothes. The girls also packed and they all checked out of from their hotel which was gracious enough to give them a 60-minute extended checkout period.
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Instead of being googly-eyed, their brows were raised and their eyes got bigger as they took in the smoked rack of ribs, apple slaw, fried pickles, mac and cheese, and spicy corn nuggets. Trudy would eat nearly as much as her dad, while Taylor would allow him to put her leftovers in his to-go box to take back with him to Valdosta. With a mouth full of food, they werent the least bit giggly either. There were lots of mmmms this is good and smacking sounds and licked fingers. After every one had their fill and Trudy tried to get everybody to order desert so she wouldnt have to eat it alone, she and Chance settled on splitting desert. It was also a good time to present their Girl with the Pearl Earrings pendant, which Chance nodded to the waitress who awaited his signal to bring to their table. FARKing AND THE WORLDS OLDEST RAPPER Watch What U Do Hey, bro, watch the things that u do Dont slip or fall because I might want 2 FARK with u Hey bro, u better watch the things that u say Because we the people wont have it any other way (2012)

Step back Jack, to your family values we aint never going back The good ole days, 1950s, 1960s were bad for most thats a fact Step back, no more goons in the front & Blacks 2 the back of the bus Now its 2012 and Soul Rap is making more than a ruckus

HOOK You better watch the things that u do Because I might want 2 FARK with u You better watch the things that u say And not be afraid to lay them out in a better way
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We have already overcome Join us if you want to get some FARKing was (before it was canceled) sort of like The Burn with Jeff Ross, once one of Chances favorite shows; especially when Aisha Tyler was on it. The topics were chosen according to either a set format or just offhandedly according to the current events of the day. And the Rapper free styling, for hours sometimes, had to stay on that topic or tie the topic into another topic, and so on. The musicians or Djs had to also adapt to the topic and create a beat on the fly. Some of these informal sessions actually made it into unedited recordings. For as most creative people know, the afflatus or inspiration once loss can rarely ever be recaptured in its full strength. Thats why some song writers and writers would rarely if ever be caught without a pen or paper or some kind of recording device. Inspiration, the afflatus, was a gift from God that could fade away as quickly as it had arrived. But the real FARKing was one song which went on for hours and FARKing concerts would last for days, with non-stop Soul Rapping, no breaks, just constant changing of styles and rhythms. The reason Chance was the King of FARKing was because he could draw from the likes of Gil Scott Heron, James Brown and others, not as a sampler but as one who grew up on the music. So he could Side B a challenger and loose them, many would just laugh it off, maintaining pride in defeat, and let Chance go at. Then Chance would change the topic to something he knew his challenger could handle and then let them take off. It was a way out and left the challenger unembarrassed, thats why Chance was respected. He was in it for the Art and only pretended to want the glory. Hey, its entertainment he would say. Most of it was an act, plain and simple. The Flight of the Afflatus and Meditative Insights across the Storms of Urban Life was also a 7 year old musical Blog that Chance authored to promote FARKing. It chronicled the lyrics and hosted a library of the videos from many FARKing events. It was huge, with over 12,650,000 people who had subscribed to or viewed the YouTube version of the blog. Another aspect of FARKing was that the word FARK could be translated into an acrostic that stood for: Fearless Artists of Reignited Knowledge. Insubordinate also liked how FARKing organically pleased the ear as far king.
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Both of those points were also explained in the blog the Flight of the Afflatus by Insubordinate. Chance didnt have a personal twitter account, but his daughters managed one for him and he had close a million followers there, too. His daughters knew how to make money from all sorts of angles using social media. And if it wasnt an event that would go viral, they didnt touch it. They made money off their dad, with and without his permission. But the most viewed aspect of Chances Blog was Quest Loves NYU Classic Albums Course along with Chances YouTube analytics of people who complained about todays rap artists. Complaints aside, many people didnt know that Quest Love taught classes about old school music and that many of his classes were recorded and posted on Chances Blog and on YouTube. The instant message comments about the classes were off the chain. Within the comments many people were just raving about the parts of their own musical history that they werent aware of. It made them get more serious about their craft and to treat it more like work and a business. Being a part of that give and take also provided a joyful lift and a spark of pleasure amid lifes daily pressures. Charity Event & CIA Operative (End of summer: Denver, CO 2013) Chance was at a ski resort for a well catered charity event in Colorado. Ice Cube had asked him to be there. That was the least Chance could do for the Cube since he gave Chance a meaningful role in his last movie although no one remembered anything Chance did in it, except for a few diehard fans. All eyes were on the more talented man Ice Cube. Come to think of it, Chances own daughters had never even mentioned him being in the movie that he knew they watched because they were huge movie and music fans of Cube. Ice Cube was up on the stage giving out awards, auctioning charity items and making the rich crowd laugh. Chance could see fine, fine, Kelly Rollins at a VIP table along with several other stars near the stage. The rest of the people Chance assumed were rich Coloradoans or whatever they called people born in Colorado. It was only one week into September and already there were forecasts for blizzard like conditions. It was still the end of summer for Christ sakes, Chance complained to himself regarding the cold. Well at least it was still summer in Georgia. At Chances table sat an investment banker and his wife, both of whom Chance found knowledgeable; an artificial snow making executive and his wife
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who both had teeth that were way too white and who Chance all but ignored. There were also two guys who introduced themselves as Angel investors but who looked more like Italian mafia in their Armani suits and their supermodel dates and another corporate looking guy who Chance assumed was waiting for his wife or date. Chance rarely used his celebrity status to better a social position regarding VIP and other areas of access but would have had he known Kelly Rollins was going be sitting there. She was looking better than ever, if that was possible. There was a ping on Chances BlackBerry, which everyone was telling him to ditch and hop aboard the Apple iPhone train. Chance pulled the phone out of his pocket. Chance almost flinched when he looked at it. His head inched back a little as his smile deepened. The people at his table were nosey but tried not to seem so but he didnt realize that one way or another. His was a face of delight and Chance didnt even hear the sudden silence at his table and the ones nearby. He opened the e-mail attachment. It was the faces and voices of his two daughters. It had been several weeks since their departures from Georgia. Although separated by the Atlantic Ocean, they had edited down and merged a single video of themselves modeling their pendants while dressed identically as the portrait of Girl with the Pearl Earring. Obviously, Trudy and Taylor had tracked down the jeweler and purchased the ring and broach which they were also sporting in the video. How could anyone decide which daughter was cuter? Then he also wondered if and when they would profit from this adorable fooling around of theirs. It was probably already posted to YouTube and poised to go viral. They ended the short piece with the unison of words that make daddies worldwide proud to be daddies. We love you dad and thanks again for the pendants, your gift from the heart. And with a lot of unsynchronized we love you, they went all giggle and googly-eyed as the short video piece faded and left the trailing words we love you dad on the screen in purple. It was only after everyone starting clapping that Chance realized that he was being watched. There had been a break up on the stage and a DJ was playing music. But Chance didnt care that they were looking because he was proud and totally forgot to be angry or at least firm about his part-time Angels hacking him and going on Oprah with the material, something he found out about almost a year after the fact.
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But wasnt he being hypocritical since he hacked them back? He didnt get a chance to wonder long. Right then he was really unconcerned about his own hypocrisy and in love with reality as he looked to his right and there stood Kelly Rollins, looking like a model and actress in her white and black matching, curve hugging outfit. The rest of the people at the table were focused on her also. I really liked your song Hood to the Rescue. Dont be surprised if you get a petition from me to re-do it, Kelly said, smiling, as Chance was momentarily stunned that she even knew who he was. She was now walking away, working the room but he hoped that she had heard his, Thank you Ms. Kelly, before she turned to go. But then again he had hoped she hadnt heard because that response was anything but a hip or cool response and it actually sounded old. But was she one of the ones who clapped? Did she see any part of the video? He hoped so, for he knew how women loved good fathers. But he really liked Mya, and he was borderline cheating, so he just calmed himself and appreciated Kellys beauty for what it was.

Chance learned that the name of the man sitting alone at his table was Tom Sword. Since he and Chance were the only two uncoupled people at their 12-person table, they eventually spoke and a conversation was struck up. Tom always made sustained eye contact when he spoke. His own eyes were a light aqua and shimmered when even a faint light bounced off of them. He had perfect teeth, a chiseled chin and the overall bearing of a White man who was perfect in the contained world of business, banking or finance. He was a Harvard man and Chance was sure that his political views twisted in ways that Chance would consider offensive. In other words, Chance wasnt likely to neither receive nor share any deep political or religious positions with the overly pleasant stranger. Both were topics of discussion that could easily take a causal conversation to something unpleasant and definitely unpredictable. Anyway, Tom was probably a radical individualist who followed one or more of Ayn Rands small herds of conservatism as an idea to be followed. With his name being Tom Sword, the sword, hed joke after leaning in close to Chance so as not to be over heard, was what he gave to some lucky lady. He failed to realize that she wasnt much of a lady if she was with someone who wasnt much of a gentleman. He was handsome so the latter matter of character probably mattered less than it should.
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Turned out that Tom remembered Kelly Rollins but also revealed he was out of touch when he asked, Doesnt she sing with that pretty gal who was in Dream Girls? Beyonc. Yes, thats her. No. Shoot Kelly had been encouraging Kisses Down Low all year on one of her singles from her current solo career and it seemed like every top R&B artist and Rapper was trying to have her make an appearance on their CD. Tom was definitely out of touch. Nice or not, Tom seemed out of place and Chance didnt trust him because liking him came too easy. Like it was practiced by a person who knew which like me buttons to push. They hadnt even been talking that long and on more than two occasions Tom tried to talk Chance into taking him out later that evening. That was probably code for take me around some tender dark meat. Drugs would have probably come up later after the first request was honored and hopefully charged with agreed or misunderstood expectations. Going out to clubs just wasnt Chances thing because he liked clubs and clubs were addictive. Plus he wasnt from Colorado and wanted to get back to his hotel room alone to conduct business and be productive. The charity was just a needed break from technology and a privilege to support Ice Cube. Chance only had his phone with him because he forget to put it in the trunk of his rental, and because of that call from his daughters he was now glad that he had forgot. Chance wondered too if Tom were D.E.A. and not C.I.A. Maybe he thought that the Rapper Insubordinate was a big time drug dealer or at least was linked to one or two of them and that he could be flipped. All drug dealers could be flipped according to Toms world. If so Tom hadnt done his homework, which few agents ever did when they didnt respect the position of the potential opponent. Despite their years of training, undercover Intelligence operatives werent always smart as no one can teach smart and instinct. Anyone who knows the first names of certain people when its supposed to be the first time theyve met had most definitely already had a meeting or two about that person or people, or at the very least had already researched their profiles or biographies. Chance had not
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told him or anyone at the table that he was Rapper, yet Tom knew well in advance of Kelly's remark. Thats probably why the fewer details an operative had to remember the better one was able to remember just what they needed to know and no more. In terrorist sponsoring states a slip of the tongue could get one hung. Thats one more reason why Chance preferred to work alone; he didnt want to die because of some operatives mistake. And men who chewed tobacco or said dude or said pretty pimped or really pimped and were whiskey drinkers, simply presented telltale signs of a likely being an undercover operative. Tom said all of the dude stuff, claimed he needed a whiskey and that he wasnt about to chew tobacco in front of all these pretty women. Chance would later learn that Tom was there for a Conference. As a matter of fact he would be the keynote speaker of a conference that Chance was there to gather Intelligence on. It wasnt pre-planned on Chances part; the conference just coincided with the date of Ice Cubs charity event. And there was no way that Tom could have known Chance was going to be there, or did he know since the conference was about Intelligence Security?

Jimmica Receives a Self-Destruct E-Mail (2011) Jimmica new immediately that the e-mail she had just received was from the unknown terrorist, Chance, because it came into her office in the same untraceable way as had several other communications about terrorist activity and other classified and equally sensitive matters. The terrorist had said in an early e-mail that she had been chosen by him in order to help prolong her political career. About that he had a point for right now she was indispensable as Jimmica was the first to communicate about Chance and as a result she was now in consultations with powerful government officials many of whom she hadnt even known were in Washington. But an even earlier e-mail from him about infrastructure sabotages, she already knew about and was already trying to build protocols around. Only now he had the names of terrorist networks that she wasnt even aware of and which had been confirmed as plotting to hit Western facilities. Still the unknown terrorist could definitely learn a thing or two about skipping the lengthy and redundant tirades and just sticking to the vital points
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regarding his messaging, she mentally complained. No doubt, they would definitely clash over procedural styles if they were ever agency collaborators instead of the stalked and stalking. Or was it the stalking and stalked? Either way right now she had to get to the President because she had no idea who else had received a copy of the most recent disturbing news that the latest email contained. Well there was probably one other person who got it, she thought quickly, as she saw the line from the Vice Presidents office light up on her secure phone line. He rarely called her unless something was near or in full crisis mode. So after receiving brief instructions from the Vice President she hastily gathered everything she had on the now known but unnamed terrorist and proceeded to the Oval Office. Concert Tours Canceled (2013)

Insubordinate, Chances rap persona, had such a successful and wonderful run in 2011 and 2012 that he wasnt doing any concerts or musical appearances while requests for him were high and spiking. He cited bruised vocal chords and family obligations when questioned by the media, fans, a potential artistic collaborator, or just some nosey person. The bruised vocal chords were true. He took advantage of the canceled tours to train and relax, work on the lyrics for his 2014 album release, work his eBook of poems and essays The Flight of the Afflatus along with his musical oriented culture blog of the same name. He also wanted to grow his business Re-Use-It, a business that he started slowly a few years ago, and to determine if he should accept the assignment to rub out the fake Rug Dealer who was in Washington D.C. of all places. Presidents E-Mail, Moments Earlier (2011) Whats this? The President wondered, as he was hesitant to open the e-mail that had just arrived in his inbox through an unapproved network. He was more than annoyed for he had just finished a pickup game of basketball and was still in his Tshirt and shorts, wanting to relax, shower, and wanting to locate his fine wife and beautiful daughters for the purposes of promised quality time. Both of those comforting and uncomfortable lines of thought were interrupted when the Vice President walked in without knocking. You are going to want to open that sir, the V.P. said after looking at the Presidents computer screen. Trusting his advice thats what the President did.
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Shit, I mean The President rarely used profanity but this time he had good reason to. Are these the coordinates to Yes, sir, thats what it appears to be. Has it been verified? Were working on that now. We? Who else knows? Before the V.P. could answer there was a knock on the door and in walked Jimmica, alone.

The President watched as his beautiful wife exited the Oval Office via a private chamber before Jimmica had entered. That meant the President was in an excellent mood. Who wouldnt be with a wife that fine and intelligent, and who was down for her man and family? He had just apologized to her for being unable to get away from work and that she and he would have to reschedule their quest for quality family time together an hour or two later. But even her Queen Nzinga, Bathesheba, Cleopatra like beauty and leadership couldnt soften the blow of what the President had just heard. The news placed the terrorists play of Korea, Iraq and al-Qaida far down the national security priority scale. So when the President, who rarely cursed or used Ebonics, said, You gotta to be shittin me! The room became quiet and everyone looked at the President and then Hillary, who had just re-read the e-mails that were sent through as unapproved network and around the governments updated firewalls. It was the verifiable satellite coordinates for Biden Ladens hideout. That was the good news. The bad news was that he was hiding in Pakistan. The other bad news was that they were reading an e-mail that they should never have received in the first place. The bad news just kept piling up, for few things were worse than dealing with the intentional and international mumbling and fumbling of the murky I.S.I., Pakistans Inter-Services Intelligence. Ok, enough with all of the bad news good news drama that was rapidly developing, stepping back into the cool he was known for the President turned
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from his cabinet members and looked directly at Jimmica who was hesitantly standing outside of his inner circle. Jimmica Ive been advised that you have been pursuing a cyber-terrorist that has computer capabilities that are even greater than our own. Can you shed any light on the accuracy of this last communication, and

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