The Thug Whisperer (Excerpt)

Snip20150806_8“That’s my seat,” the Black, teenage thug loudly exclaims as he, and three of his boys, all Black, step off the platform and into the subway car. “Get up.” I watch as his large hands become fists and he steps closer, invading the suited, White man’s personal space. “Now.”

The stern expression on the suited, White man’s face lets me know he’s not accustomed to backing down from a fight. But this fight is one he knows he can’t win. The tightening of his grip around the briefcase in his lap lets me know he’s protecting something of value, a laptop computer perhaps. He has probably ridden the Metro numerous times, from Downtown Los Angeles to the M.L.K. Transit Center/Compton Station, but this is the first time he has been accosted by the local thugs.

I almost feel sorry for the man. Like me, all he wants to do is get home without incident after spending eight hours or more at the office. I have him pegged as a show runner with one of the local studios, but the pocket-protected pens and markers in the front, left pocket of his button-down shirt gives me second thoughts.

He undoubtedly is an accountant at one of the local banks.

But how can I feel sorry for him? My skin is as dark as the pesky thug’s. By virtue of being born Black, I’m supposed to side with him, right?

Stick it to the White man, take what they are unwilling to relinquish on their own, right?

The Black, teenage thug grabs the man by his collar, effortlessly lifts him from the seat. Members of his entourage snicker in the background, patiently waiting on the punch line to some sick joke. Hanging from the Black, teenage thug’s bent arm now, the suited, White man nervously looks up at him, seeking permission with his eyes to be excused.

The Black, teenage thug releases him. The suited, White man immediately turns on his heels to seek refuge in the adjoining car. The Black, teenage thug claims the now-empty seat, high-fiving a lighter-skinned member of his entourage.

An angry scowl on the face of the old, White man seated just to the right of me doesn’t go unnoticed. He is dressed in all black, with a preacher’s collar, and the little hair that remains on his head is combed over to cover a bald spot.

“You need to stop eyeballing me, old man,” the Black, teenage thug says, his unbelted, denim jeans now six inches below his waistline. He stands briefly to pull his pants up over his boxers, then sits. His gaze falls on me.

Pointing, he says, “Hey, y’all, look at Wheels over there.” Eyes above smiling faces now shift to me.

“Bet not get him mad, Ty,” a member of his entourage interjects. “He’ll run you over.”

“Why do you people act the way you do?” Preacher Man gruffly says, his arms crossed.

The Black, teenage thug now known as Ty doesn’t hear him, but a member of his entourage does. “What’s that you say, old man?” the member asks. Everyone’s attention shifts to Preacher Man as the thug who heard him stands, readying himself for a fistfight.

Preacher Man continues, “We give you space, yet you still feel the need to mock and terrorize us. Why? For laughs? I think not. You don’t care. About yourselves, the legacy of your people.”

Ty leaps from his seat while reaching for the revolver in his right jacket pocket. He stands in front of Preacher Man, his revolver pressed firmly against Preacher Man’s temple. Preacher Man’s arms are at his sides now, and his eyes are shut. Must be making amends with God, for he probably fears the end is near.

“He’s right, you know?”

Ty turns to me, revolver still pressed firmly against Preacher Man’s temple.

“You don’t care. About yourselves, the legacy of our people.”

Copyright 2015. Jeffery A. Faulkerson. All rights reserved.


The Human Family Prerogative



I recently visited to view my sales statistics.  During the month of January 2015, I couldn’t get readers to add any of my books to their personal libraries. To say this news is a downer would be an understatement.  It’s not like I haven’t let the world know about the relevancy of these titles, which are available as eBooks and paperbacks.

The title that I want them to purchase is ADINKRAHENE: Fear of a Black Planet.  That’s my debut novel, the one that has Black people wielding supernatural powers in an honorable and responsible way.  These powerful Black super humans don’t want to exact vengeance on White people for 400 years of slavery and Jim Crow legislation; they ultimately want to get the human race to see that it is one race, not many.  I readily admit that there is a faction of Blacks, the technologically advanced militia group Black-Out, that defaults to using violence to secure power, influence and control, but if I did not offer its members’ perspective, the story would be, well, boring.

The ADINKRAHENE series is all about restoring the human family to its original state, one in which every person on the planet, regardless of their race and ethnicity, worships the Heavenly Father and understands that treating each other with love, honor and respect pleases this same Heavenly Father.  Much like R & B singer Bobby Brown, who boldly sang about having a prerogative, I think it is time for us to adopt what I call The Human Family Prerogative.

For the purposes of these stories, this Heavenly Father is the god of Adam and Noah, Abraham and Issaac, David and Jesus.  I do assert that these biblical figures and deity are Black and not White, and I feel no shame in making such an assertion.  Our collective history has been corrupted, oftentimes for selfish reasons, all to make one racial/ethnic group’s members feel more superior to all of the others.  ADINKRAHENE is my attempt to level the playing field in a fictional sense so people who look like me can gain a semblance of respect in a culture that seems to hate and despise us.  More importantly, though, I want to show Whites that Blacks can push their anger, frustration and resentment aside to work with them to reconcile differences. The altruistic, Black characters in this series know the truth – that Lucifer (i.e., Satan) and his minions (i.e., the Satarians) are responsible for the unraveling of our once unified kingdom.

There are two more books in the series – Fear of a Beloved Community and Fear of an Alien Presence.  These books will get written with or without your support.  I’m a writer, remember?  But I would much rather type sentences and paragraphs on my laptop computer knowing you are looking forward to the release of the next ADINKRAHENE novel.  For you know that prejudice and discrimination are alive and well in America and around the world.  But you also know eradicating this issue is highly improbable if we fail to discuss its underlying causes and effects.

Thank you to all those individuals who have shown that they believe in me by purchasing one or more of my books.  I am truly grateful.

And to those individuals who are new readers of the ADINKRAHENE Series, I say welcome.