CONCUSSION: MAJIK LEVEL 1 GRIMOIRE 1 – CHAPTER FOUR – WEAPON – RAW, UNEDITED

CONCUSSION
WEAPON
RICHARD SKEET

Copyright © 2015
RICHARD SKEET
All rights reserved.

Drew

Ray decides not to ride in the trunk.
Ray and Drew travel 45 minutes.
Don’t say a word to one another.
They arrive:
a big,
black,
steel gate.
Drew pushes a button.

Drew: “Drew.
Let me in.”

Man’s Voice: “You have the package?”

Drew: “Yes.”

Man’s Voice: “Favorite color?”

Drew: “Fuchsia.”

The gate opens;
Drew drives the taxi in;
gate closes behind them.
They stop at another gate:
area brightly illuminated.

Serious gate!
Looks like it could stop a tank!
This place looks as secure as the White House.
My jaw’s killing me.
If someone got through the first gate,
they’d be trapped here;
probably cut down by machine-gun fire.

Drew interrupts Ray’s thoughts.
Drew: “Hold-on-a-second Ray.”

Drew hops outside the vehicle;
pops the trunk;
opens all the doors.

Cameras all around.

Man’s Voice: “Proceed.”

Drew closes the doors,
and trunk.
The inner gate opens.
They drive down a long driveway.

A guardhouse.

About twenty high-end cars parked in the driveway.
A Lambo!
Holy shit!

The house:
white with rectangular lines.
I love modern architecture.

They climb the stairs:
gorgeous blonde,
skinny with large,
fake-breasts,
opens the front door.

Johanna

Drew introduces them:
“Johanna,
Ray;
Ray,
Johanna.”

Johanna: “Wow!
You look so much like your dad!”

Johanna gives Ray a big hug,
putting Ray’s face between her beautiful,
warm,
yet plasticbreasts.
Ray’s sporting wood.

I say: “Damn,
you were a horny little-bastard!”

Ray’s chip: “Couldn’t help it!
I was in the seventh grade;
dick got hard every time the wind blew!
Johanna was so-fucking-hot!”

I say: “She sure was!”

Johanna (To Drew): “Where’s Ray’s things?”

Drew: “Richie Rich ordered me not to bring anything.”

Johanna says,
in semi-disbelief:OK?”

Drew: “That’s what The Man instructed;
I’m not arguing.”

Johanna: “Honey,
we’re gonna do some shopping tomorrow!
Let me show you around;
your dad’s not home yet.

Drew,
some of the guys are here already,
in the game room.”

Drew: “I know where it is,
headin’ there now.
Good meetin’ you kid.
You’re in good hands.”

Go fuck yourself Drew.
Ray’s silent,
does not acknowledge Drew’s exit.
Johanna leads Ray up a spiral staircase.
All the way up the stairs,
Ray’s staring at her fine,
perfectly-formed-ass;
skin-tight-clothes.

Room

Johanna: “This is your room.”

“Mine?” Ray mumbles.

Johanna: “All yours.
We’ll start decorating it tomorrow.”

Ray looks around:
his bedroom’s bigger than his mom’s apartment.
His own balcony,
with a view of the city;
private hot-tub;
big bed;
giant screen;
desk with a computer-

Johanna: “The computer’s new,
you’re gonna have to set it up;
I don’t know how.”

Ray has his own leather couch,
his own weights,
a heavy-bag,
a speed-bag-

Johanna: “Hundreds of movies and video games on demand,
and in the media cabinet.
Anything you want,
just ask:
I’ll get it for you.”

Ray has his own bathroom:
a giant tub and a shower.

Johanna: “Tomorrow we’ll pick out your wardrobe.
Hungry?”

Ray mumbles: “No.”

Johanna: “Me neither;
we’ll eat later.
Your father’s planned a big dinner.
Let me show you the pool.”

Pool

The pool has a retractable glass-roof,
which’s closed.
In the pool:
many beautiful-women in bikinis.

Johanna: “These are my friends;
they live here too.
Some are models,
actresses,
students.”

Johanna introduces them;
they smile.
They tell Ray how handsome he is;
how much he looks like his dad.

Johanna: “Wanna go swimming?”

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
Ray mumbles,
through his crippled mouth.

“Hey girls,
Ray doesn’t have a swimsuit.”
Johanna smiles mischievously.
Was her smile an order?
A request?
A coded signal?
One by one,
they all walk up to Ray and say:
“Ray,
I forgot my swimsuit too.”
They remove their bikinis,
almost ritualistically,
then,
jump in the pool.
A few of the girls put their naked breasts on him.
Ray smiles;
blushes.

After his hard-on dies down;
Ray takes off his clothes;
jumps in.

They play with a giant beach-ball.
Ray has a blast,
even though he can’t smile.
They play and joke for hours.

Richie Rich enters the swimming-pool room;
asks,
“What are you ladies doing to my son?”

All Topless Women in Pool:
“He didn’t have a swimsuit,
so,
we lost ours too.”

Richie Rich laughs.

Richie Rich: “You’re the man,
huh?”
Richie Rich is overjoyed,
but,
also heartbroken:
it has taken so long,
to actually talk to his son.

“Yes sir.” Ray struggles to say.

Richie Rich: “Almost dinner time.
Get ready for dinner;
you can see the girls later.”

“Bye Ray!” the women say,
nearly in unison.

Ray gets a towel;
wraps himself;
goes down to his bedroom.

In Ray’s closet:
My first pair of Nikes,
SWEET!
Killer duds!

Johanna peeks her head in.
Johanna: “Hope you don’t mind;
bought a few things earlier today:
when I discovered you were staying with us.
It was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow;
but,
I know now,
you don’t have any clothes here.
Decided to give them to you early.
You like?

My exact size too!
Those are some expensive jeans!
Thank you!
I’ve never had clothes like this!
Ray’s thoughts racing,
all he says audibly though:
Ray mumbles: “They’re awesome;
thank you.”

Johanna: “Thanks honey!
We’ll get more stuff tomorrow.
Get dressed;
dinner’s almost ready.”

The Inner Circle

In the living room,
the inner circle rises as Ray enters.
I recognize Tommy,
Chris,
and Drew;
I know them!
The crew walks up to him,
one by one-

“‘sup lil prince?”
Chris,
the janitor from the junior-high.
Chris:
about 5’9;
skinny;
black as night.
Chris:
a funny guy;
loud,
obnoxious,
full of energy-
Full of piss and vinegar as THEY say,
whoever the fuck THEY are-
Sharp dresser;
sharper wit;
ladies man.
Women love him,
and his sense-of-humor.
Chris:
the crew’s cleaner.
Whenever there’s a mess,
like a dead body,
Chris gets rid of it.
Van full of chemicals,
and protective clothing needed,
to take care of any mess.

Fuck,
my jaw’s killin’ me!
Ray mumbles: “What you doin’ here Chris?
How come I recognize so many of you?”

Chris: “We work with your old-man;
been watching you,
your whole life;
never told you,
or,
your mom,
but,
we’ve always been close.
We’ve been around to keep you safe,
and,
report to your dad how you’re doing.
None of us were supposed to interfere in fights,
or anythin’ like that,
but,
when Daley started stompin’ your head:
I had to step in.”

Ray: “Thanks.”

Chris: “Don’t mention it.
If I’d known he would break your jaw;
I would’ve stepped in sooner;
happened so fast.
Think he might’ve injured you a lot worse;
I had to break it up.”

Ray nods.

Chris: “You’ve met Drew.”

Ray raises his chin acknowledging Drew.
Dick.
Fat fuck.

Drew’s huge.
Big,
fat,
muscular-
Big ego,
big personality.
Talks loud;
laughs a lot.

Boisterous.
Braggadocio.

I say: “Damn,
you were pissed at Drew!”

Ray’s chip: “My first impression;
I was wrong.
It’s cool you’re able to read my thoughts,
forgot how I felt about him at first.
Never had someone threaten to shove me in a trunk before,
and,
mean it.
That really pissed me off.”

Drew’s also a ladies man:
confident,
perhaps too-confident,
bordering on arrogance.
Drew:
the tough guy;
the muscle;
the killer;
death on-a-stick-
a menacing figure,
tats;
slick hair.
Big,
raw,
North-End Italian,
Sicilian to be exact.
Loves Italian food;
raised a racist;
every now and then that comes out.

Chris: “Tommy.”

Ray: “Good to meet you Tommy.”
From the pizza place I hang out at,
with my friends.
Tommy’s fat,
no two ways about it;
also a ladies man,
even though:
he’s the biggest misogynist in the bunch,
and,
the least attractive.
Women are always around him.
Tommy owns:
pizza parlors,
strip clubs,
a modeling agency-

Chris: “Anne and Antwon.”
Anne:
in her thirties;
the only woman in the inner circle.
Tough as nails,
and beautiful.
Heroic square jaw;
very attractive.
Anne:
an accomplished strategic-thinker;
trusted adviser;
married to Antwon,
her soul-mate,
in every sense of the word.
Antwon:
in his late-fifties;
black;
gray goatee;
also a strategic thinker,
and trusted adviser.
Antwon’s in charge of internal intelligence.

Anne:
a pacifist in almost everything,
however,
when she’s attacked,
she lashes back with fury.

Antwon’s more,
shall we say,
proactive.
Antwon invented the cell-phone game.
Antwon’s mandate:
protect the Furai from all internal enemies,
period.
This simple mandate gives him license,
to use extraordinary force-
By any means necessary.
Antwon:
feared by all Furai;
has authority to kill traitors without trial.
He answers to The Furai,
but,
in many ways he’s autonomous.

Chris: “Bruce.”
Bruce:
in his early thirties;
Chinese ancestry.
American citizen,
born in The U.S.A.
raised in China.
Bruce:
thick accent;
understands and speaks English reasonably well.
Master of gung fu;
tough as nails,
fast,
fluid.
About 5’7”;
140 pounds;
tats:
dragons mostly.

Chris: “Chewy.”
Chewy’s Bruce’s father,
both immigrated to America late 90s.
Chewy looks like an older version of Bruce.
Chewy’s a strategic thinker;
went to school in China;
trained as a soldier.
Former general in the People’s Liberation Army.
His family tree can be traced back over a thousand years.
His parents were Chicom (CPC) politburo members;
grew up wealthy in a nation of the most-dire poverty.
Chewy and Bruce left China before their economic miracle matured.

Chewy’s in charge of external intelligence.
A similar mandate to Antwon,
but,
because his focus is external,
he’s not feared by Furai as Antwon is.

Ray: “What’s the difference between Antwon and Chewy?”

Richie Rich: “Antwon’s like the FBI,
or,
internal affairs for a police department.
It’s his job to make sure individual Furai,
are not a threat to the core.
For example,
if Chris decided to betray me,
Antwon,
would discover this,
and put Chris down.
He’s looking for internal threats.

Chewy’s like the CIA,
controls a vast network of spies gathering external data.
So,
if the police were coming to arrest someone,
it would be Chewy’s job to know.
Naturally,
some internal threats originate from the outside,
so Chewy and Antwon share information.

Ray: “I get it.”
That’s why everyone,
in this room,
is afraid of Antwon;
he can brand a Furai a traitor,
and have him whacked.

Chris: “Nicky.”
Nicky’s Drew’s uncle;
not a big guy;
part of a mob family,
muscled-out in the 70s.
Also a strategic thinker;
involved in American politics,
behind-the-scenes in some capacity.

Chris: “Stevie.”
Stevie:
an entrepreneur;
an architect.
Designed many buildings and a few homes.
A perfectionist,
worries about the smallest of details.

Chris: “Tony.”
Tony:
an insurance salesman.
Tall,
about 6’6’’ tall.
Loud,
full of energy,
similar build to Drew.

Chris: “George.”
George’s a West Point graduate;
former US Army general.
From a rich family,
elitist.
Had a falling out with his superiors;
retired early.
George’s in charge of the-muscle in the crew.

Chris: “Monty.”
Monty:
an older Hispanic from Cuba;
a drug kingpin.
Tentacles stretching,
to South America and Europe.

Richie Rich: “My crew;
I trust these men with my life.”

Ray mumbles: “I don’t understand:
Chris is a janitor right?
Drew’s a cab driver?
Tommy works at a pizza place?
Your crew?”

Richie Rich: “I know,
right?
How can they be my crew and have jobs like that?
I mean,
generally,
rich guys have rich friends right?”

Ray: “Exactly.”

Richie Rich: “Chris,
how much did you earn last year?”

Chris: “A fuck-ton.”

Richie Rich: “How big’s your car Chris?”

Chris: “My car’s so big;
has it’s own fuckin’ zip-code.”

Richie Rich: “How big’s your house Chris?”

Chris: “My house has ten bathrooms;
I can shit all day!”

Richie Rich: “How ‘bout you Tommy?
How hot’s your girlfriend?

Tommy: “Which one?
All my urinals are smoking hot.

Ray: “Urinals?”

Tommy: “You prefer cum-receptacles?”

Drew butts in:
“Old man Tom,
shoes were the bomb,
had so many bitches,
on his dick and in his palm.”

Anne butts in,
looking at Ray:
“These guys are awful aren’t they?”

Richie Rich: “My crew all have houses,
and,
lead lifestyles similar to mine.
Drew,
Tommy,
and Chris are part of a security,
intelligence detail,
sent to protect you and your mom.
They have other areas of responsibility too.
Your protection’s too-important,
to have hired-hands doing it.
Hired-hands can be:
bribed,
coerced,
leveraged,
these men would die for you Ray.”
Maybe I misunderstood Drew.

Richie Rich: “They have what are called ‘ghost jobs.’
Chris is on the East Junior-High payroll.
Shows up,
whenever he wants to talk to you;
leaves,
whenever he wants.
All,
the school’s staff,
know him,
believe he works at your school all week.
None suspect he shows up just to talk to,
and,
observe you during lunch;
before and after school,
and,
surveil the school,
guarding for suspicious characters.”

Ray: “Don’t you have to clean toilets?”

Chris: Motherfucker,
I’ve cleaned stuff a lot worse than toilets.

They all look at each other:
after an uncomfortable pause,
everyone starts laughing.

Chris: “No lil prince.
I’m an employee of the school;
don’t actually do anything there,
except:
go to mandatory meetings,
and,
collect a paycheck.”

Ray: “Doesn’t anyone know?”

Chris: “Very few know;
those who know are under our control.

Richie Rich: “Tommy has a ghost job at one of the restaurants he owns;
shows up there whenever you do.
Drew drives a taxi whenever I need him to;
sometimes,
drives a limo.
Being a driver,
provides a good cover for him.
He picks people of interest up;
sometimes,
listens to their conversations.”

Chewy interrupts:
“Through infiltration and intelligence,
we learn:
what the enemy agent values;
what they treasure;
what they cherish.

Convincing the enemy agent:
we control not just their lives,
but,
the lives of their loved ones;
we gain leverage on that enemy;
create a willing or unwilling ally.

Chris: Beautiful Chewy;
who wrote that?”

Chewy: “From the Furai War-Fighting Manual-“

Richie Rich: “These men and Anne are all masters;
don’t let their appearance,
or,
their ‘jobs’ fool you.
They’re all Furai.
Each and every one of them’s powerful;
all more than capable,
to run this entire organization.
Some make more money than I do;
even though,
I’m the leader.

Ray: “I don’t get it.”

Richie Rich: “Watch football Ray?”

Ray: “Yes.”

Richie Rich: “Some quarterbacks make more money than their coaches.
They each have an important job to do.
Each one’s valuable,
the team wouldn’t work without the coach,
or,
quarterback.
The coach’s the boss:
not because he’s the smartest,
necessarily.
The coach’s not always paid the most,
but,
he’s in charge of the team.
A team’s success falls heaviest on the coach,
and the quarterback;
but,
everyone on the team has a vital role to play.
A successful professional-team pays what it needs,
to keep a team intact.
We’re part of a team.
Treat each other with respect.
I’m the boss,
but,
a good boss will surround himself,
with guys:
smarter than him in certain areas.
Everyone here’s a strategic thinker,
my talent,
the reason I’m the boss:
I unite all these men,
and Anne around a common cause.
Through me:
they gain access to each other and me.
I’m the center in the Oreo cookie;
hold the whole thing together.
Money’s important;
if someone doesn’t care about money:
they’re probably not worth anything.

Dinner

Dinner is served.
Everyone,
except Ray,
gets a T-bone steak and a salad.
Because Ray has his mouth wired nearly shut;
he has to eat dinner through a straw.
Johanna brings,
what looks like a milk shake to Ray.
Johanna: “This may not taste too-good Ray;
but,
it has the nutrients and protein you need,
to heal,
grow,
maintain and build strength.”
Ray tastes it;
grimaces.
Tastes like chocolate-flavored saw-dust.

Johanna: “I know sweetheart.
Not very appealing;
but,
it’s very high in protein and calcium.”

Johanna seems to be able to read my mind.
Johanna smiles,
as if to say,
“I can read your mind.”

Johanna: “How long will your mouth be wired shut?”

Ray mumbles: “Five weeks.”

Johanna looks at Richie Rich as if to say,
“That’s unacceptable.”

Richie Rich: “That’s not acceptable.”

Richie Rich takes out his cell-phone.
Richie Rich Phone call:
Doctor Peterson,
Richie Rich.
How goes it partner?”

-Pause-

“Don’t want to waste your time;
I’ll just cut to the chase.
This aint a social call.
My son has a broken jaw;
jaw’s been wired shut.
His doctor told him five weeks.”

-Pause-

“That’s what I thought.”

-Pause-

“That’s what I thought.”

-Pause-

“Tonight?
Ya,
OK.
Appreciate it;
see you in a few hours.”

-Pause-

“Who’s your Doctor, Ray?”

Ray mumbles: “Doctor Reid.”

Richie Rich Phone call continues:
“Doctor Reid:
South-Shore Hospital.”

-Pause-

“Ya.”

-Pause-

“His mom’s poor;
she took him.
I want to get it done right;
Ray’s with me now.”

-Pause-

“Thanks Doc;
see you in a-bit.”

Richie Rich: Peterson’s our Doctor;
a genius.
He’s who professional-football players see,
when they break bones.
He can have you healed completely in two weeks.
It’s likely,
he can set you up with a custom appliance,
giving you 80% mobility in your jaw,
right now.
You won’t be able to eat apples,
but,
we should be able to blender just about any meal for you.
You’ll be able to talk normally;
maybe even smile.”

Ray mumbles loudly,
trying to smile: “Cool!”

Richie Rich: “In the mean time:
drink your shake.
OK?”

Ray: “OK.”

Rats

After everyone’s eaten,
the crew migrates to the game room.
Ray and his dad:
alone in the dining room.
Richie Rich: “I know you’ve grown up in lack.
I know you’ve done without.
I know you’ve been:
picked-on;
beaten-up.
You go to school with some of the meanest kids on the planet:
Boston Italians and Irish.
Mean fuckin’ kids.
The kids I grew up with.
Their parents:
hard men and women raising hard kids.
I knew Daley’s father:
short guy,
thick neck,
forearms like Popeye.
Alcoholic,
pissed off at the world:
shitty job,
shitty house,
shitty life-
Daley has it rough,
a kid like that will beat you whenever he wants.
Daley will not stop;
he’ll feel no mercy.
When Daley attacks you again;
it could be more serious.

Of course,
I could put a stop to it with a phone call;
but,
that would not be treating the problem,
that would be treating a symptom;
and,
probably make things worse.
Get me?”

Ray: “No.”

Richie Rich: The symptom:
you’re being bullied at school.
I could:
make a phone call;
send a 16-year-old to Weymouth,
to wait for young Daley after school,
and,
start a fight with him.
I could have Daley beaten-up so bad:
he might never walk straight again.
Then,
I could let it be known:
he was beaten,
like that,
because,
he fucked with you.
What do you think the outcome would be?”

Ray: “Kids wouldn’t mess with me anymore.”

Richie Rich: “Would you gain respect?”

Ray: “No.
Others would think I was a rat;
hiding behind his Dad.”

Richie Rich: “That’s right.
Being a rat’s the worst thing you could be Ray:
a traitor to your peers.
It would affect every relationship you have growing up.
You may become an outcast,
like a policeman,
or,
a principal’s kids.
Sure they might have friends,
but,
they’ll never have honest relationships.
No one likes a rat,
no one.
Even other rats hate rats.
No,
you’ve got to solve this Daley problem yourself.”

Ray: “How?”

Weapon

Richie Rich: “Don’t worry about that now.
Realize,
you’re my son;
I love you very much.
I’ll teach you everything I know.
You’ll learn from the best.
Part of what I’ll teach you is how to defend yourself,
from guys like Daley.
Not just fighting skills,
or strength;
it’ll be the whole picture.”

-Pause –

Richie Rich: “What’s the most-lethal weapon on Earth?”

Ray: “A nuclear bomb.”

Richie Rich: “Close,
the answer is the human mind:
always has been;
always will be.
Who has a better mind?
You or Daley?

Ray: “Me.”

Richie Rich: “You sure?”

Ray: “Think so.”

Richie Rich: “I’m going to make it so you know so.
When you’re done learning;
you’ll be a weapon.
When God created man;
He created a weapon.
This is your natural state.
This is what you were born to do;
born to be-
A large mind,
focused with intensity,
forward,
towards its prey.
Hunt;
seek;
kill-”

A weapon.

Richie Rich: “This is why you have eyes,
in the front of your head,
and a large brain.
Man was not meant to be pursued,
to hide,
to be hunted by others-
Prey,
have eyes on the sides of their heads.
They watch for the hunter;
hide from the hunter;
fear the hunter-
They run,
hide,
breed in vast numbers,
play possum-
Hunters,
have eyes in front for pursuit of prey.
This is what God created YOU for.
Man were not meant to live in cubicles,
penned like sheep;
avoiding the whip;
fearful of unemployment and all other bullshit.
No!
God created YOU to seek your fortune,
that which you desire,
to pursue it with your oversized-brain,
and forward-focussed eyes.”

I am a weapon.

Richie Rich: It’s not your fault you were raised to be a sheep.
This is not why you were conceived,
formed,
fashioned-
You are a product of a dying civilization.
The smartest kid in the school,
hiding from the dumbest.
If you and Daley were taken to a deserted island,
dropped off,
and told to fight to the death,
who would win?
Daley wouldn’t have a chance.
Once you realized it’s him or you,
and,
removed your rules,
he would be easy prey,
just like he was in dodgeball.
You would plan his death,
set a trap,
fashion the tools needed to end him.
The reason you hid from him at school,
our society,
our polite,
sheepish-civilization has taught you their rules,
and you’ve tried to follow them.
Instead of putting a pencil through his eyeball,
or a pen through his voice-box;
you’re told to avoid the fight,
but,
if the fight can’t be avoided,
to use your fists,
fight fair,
whatever the fuck ‘fair’ means.
When someone is pursuing you,
with intent to do you harm,
there is no ‘fair.’
There’s only a choice:
be or not be.
Be means:
I have a right to exist,
a right to live,
a right to enjoy my life:
free of coercion,
free of violence,
free of fear.

Not be means:
if another chooses to violate your right to be,
you must compromise,
cower,
accommodate.
Not be means accept:
fear,
theft,
slavery,
coercion,
starvation,
death-
Not be is accepting another’s right to kill you.

Our civilization has perverted man’s nature,
made man something he’s not,
something,
he was never intended to be:
sheep,
prey-
It starts at the youngest age.
You’re taught to listen,
to not question,
to accept authority,
to share-
None of these things reflect your true nature:
a hunter,
a killer,
a weapon-
Furai change men back to their intended form:
a weapon.

Furai make the deadliest weapons on Earth:
Free men,
in control of their mind,
focussed on their desires,
with the right,
and obligation,
to obtain their desires.
With the right knowledge,
applied,
you can acquire anything your heart desires.
What do you really want?”

Ray: “I want to be able to fight;
I want Kristen.”

Richie Rich: “Daley’s little girlfriend?”

Ray: “How do you know that?”

Richie Rich smiles.
Richie Rich: “Not much your old-man doesn’t know.
I know you probably don’t love me.
I know I do not deserve it,
at this point in your life certainly;
but,
I’ll give you my most-valuable possession,
my knowledge.
With my knowledge,
you’ll be able to gain anything you desire.
That’ll make your universe balanced.
My solving the problem for you,
wouldn’t.
Imagine,
what your universe would be like:
if you were able to fight anyone in your school and win,
convincingly?”

Ray: “That would be very cool.”

Richie Rich: “That’s part of what you will be taught.
What I want from you is one thing,
at this point:
think of me as a new friend.
Deal?”

Ray: “Yes.”

Richie Rich: “Good.
I love you.
I don’t want a hug,
friends don’t hug,
at least not at first.
How ’bout a handshake?”

Ray stands up;
walks over to his dad;
extends his hand in invitation.

“This is good.” Ray’s father thinks to himself.
Richie Rich: “The guys are in the game room,
want to see it?”

Ray: “Sure.”

Richie Rich: “One last thing.
It’s important you tell no one,
where you live,
what school you go to,
etc-
Assume everyone,
with the exception of:
Drew,
Chris,
and Tommy,
is dangerous.”

Ray: “I don’t get it;
I thought you trusted all these men with your life?”

Richie Rich: “I do.
But,
some of my men are ruthless,
beyond imagination.
Knowing:
how to get to you,
would give them an edge;
an advantage that might put both of our lives in danger.
Until a few hours ago:
only Chris,
Drew,
and Tommy even knew you existed.
Now that you’re here;
we must be prudent.
The best way to keep from being a victim,
is not become a target.

Think of me as a Roman Emperor.
The men I’m surrounded with are:
my generals,
and,
my personal guard.
If one of my generals was to betray me,
you would be the next target.
Of course,
they will find you.
But,
not knowing where you live,
might buy you a little time to escape,
if something was to go down.
Don’t think about it or worry;
just keep quiet about your school,
etc-”

Ray: “What if they ask?”

Richie Rich: “If one of my guys was to ask,
that would be foolish;
they won’t.
Asking,
would be a very suspicious act.
They’d be announcing,
to the world,
they were traitors or fools.
No,
none of them will ask.
The only way they’ll know where you live,
is if you voluntarily tell them.
My group is compartmentalized,
everyone has their own jobs.
They avoid knowledge they don’t need,
instinctively.
Too-much knowledge can be dangerous,
make you a target.

If a man learns dangerous information,
he doesn’t need,
a ruthless man might be tempted to kill or torture him,
to gain it.
This is why convenience-store employees can’t open the store’s safe.
By not being able to open the safe,
it keeps ruthless men from targeting the store,
and the employees.
A robber can’t go into a 7-eleven,
put a gun to a clerk’s head and raid the safe.
The clerk can’t give the robber the combination to the safe;
he doesn’t have it.
As a result,
the clerk’s job’s a little safer,
and,
so are the store’s assets.

My men will talk to you,
teach you,
be friendly to you.
But,
information about where you live:
off limits.
It’s classified to protect:
you,
my men,
the Furai organization,
and me too.

You are the future of this organization.
Your old-man may decide to retire someday,
or,
may die.
If you’re worthy at that time;
you may be the one to fill my shoes.”

Ray: “I understand.”

That’s all for today. I’ll be releasing all three books – in their current form: CONCUSSION MAJIK LEVEL 1, GRIMOIRE 1, GRIMOIRE 2, GRIMOIRE 3 on my blog – unedited – a chapter at a time. I will give you my thoughts on each chapter, clues for future books, and answer any questions you might have. A new raw unedited chapter will be released every day at around  4 PM.

Tomorrow, I’ll begin chopping this chapter up, adding notes and other thoughts. I would really appreciate your feedback in this process.

Please question, comment, and share, thank you.

Richard Skeet

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