The Mis-Education of the Savage

Jason Cavil

Description

Below the most distinctive skyline in America, the City of Dallas, Josiah is on the highway of life going 165 mph. Ignoring all the warning signs: curve ahead, wrong way, stop, etc. he continues to keep his foot on the gas.
Cutta, Josiah’s Day One, is a magnet for confrontation. Smoke is his middle name. But this time Josiah is the only one that can help him. In an attempt to get Cutta out of this jam, Josiah gives his resources and loyalty only to lose what’s left of his former self.
Instead of quitting while ahead, he constructs a team of hungry wolves eager to run up the score and carry out his will of crushing his enemies. All of this while dealing with snakes, drama and unseen forces locked in a yearslong battle for supremacy.

Sujets

• Savage
• Fiction
• Fantasy
• Rite

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 05 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669816201
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

THE MIS-EDUCATION OF THE SAVAGE
SAVAGE RITES
Jason Cavil

Copyright © 2022 by Jason Cavil.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022916379
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-1622-5

Softcover
978-1-6698-1621-8

eBook
978-1-6698-1620-1
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 09/26/2022
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
837229
CONTENTS
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Acknowledgments

To Boss and Young King
My joy. My peace.
My go.
INTRODUCTION
Born creators. Self-sufficient with no need for outside help. We were founders of the arts and sciences, medicine, mathematics, astrology, law, music, dance, anatomy, geography, philosophy, the invention of letters, and the list goes on.
Fertile land was ours to uphold and keep. We cultivated it and became one with the land. The first arrivals were in awe of our greatness. Our nature was unfamiliar to them but exotic. Our way of life was powerful, but they misunderstood it. We were a great civilization but labeled SAVAGE.
That reverence these travelers had for our knowledge, riches, and land gave way to inferiority. Their inferiority was clothed in jealousy, envy, and greed. Jealous enough to plot. Envious enough to hate. Greedy enough to gain a foothold in our country through physical and psychological warfare.
So many took part in our demise and subjugation. We were packed up and sent to the Middle East and India. And, of course, shipped west to Central America, South America, the Caribbean, and what is now the U.S. of A. Here, we built the country on our backs,. Out of the soil, infused with our blood, sweat, tears, and bones, grew a world power. Here, the powerful can be equivalent to wealth. Which in a sense is true. But due to America, the masters of fuckery, lies, and sleight of hand, the powerful or perceived powerful, find themselves in position. Position to make decisions. Position to make laws. Position to create division. They are the puppeteers who pull all the strings. The stage (the Constitution and institutions) had been set by its early founders during a time when we were considered beasts.
The puppeteers are interchangeable as long as whoever is pulling the strings understands the principles and power dynamics of why and how the stage was set in the first place. As our knowledge needed to escape this plight grew, so did discreetness in said stage.
The war waged upon our people from so long ago in our homeland continued from the most barbaric customs to the most covert practices: colonialism, lynching, Jim Crow, 3/5ths Compromise, share cropping, segregation, literacy tests, poll taxes, Home Owners Loan Corp., Reagan’s War on Drugs, The War on Gangs, Clinton’s Crime Bill, mandatory minimum sentencing, mass incarceration, Stop and Frisk, Voter ID laws, qualified immunity, absolute immunity, single-family zoning, political divide and conquer, etc.
Here, we have perpetually been hunted down and hated on. And here, the Black body has always been a revenue-generating vehicle. Our image, likeness, and way of life have been exploited and monetized. Yet we have been told our Blackness, our natural state, is too offensive to sit next to.
We have contributed in many ways to this prosperous country and cannot make decisions in the allocation of society’s gains. This is bondage at its most subtle. An unnatural state. This is the illusion best served in smoke. America will allow for us to pay tax on the construction of new prisons but will not allow for the best nurturing environment in our inner city schools and community.
We have been imprisoned by written law and ingrained hate. Instead of chain link fences and razor wire that mark a boundary, we have educational boundaries, redistricting, and financial boundaries, i.e., redlining. And also punishment, that is, death for getting caught outside the boundaries. And just like in a prison, a system of oppression, deprivation, and punishment, frustration grows. And when frustration grows, we turn inward and lash out at that which we can see—those around us.
Being children of war, our actions and our way of life, to those who have never lived the aforementioned, are again unfamiliar. In this unnatural state, we, again, are misunderstood. And yet again, we are labeled SAVAGE.
This is a story of people traversing their own rite of passage but struggling against circumstance. They walk it the best way they know how—by any means necessary. But will the end justify the means?
CHAPTER 1
Jaire woke up to the smell of burnt paper. Two in the morning was displayed on his digital clock. He heard white noise first. Then, as his ears attuned to the commonplace sounds, he picked up on the customary conversations. All on topics ranging from debt owed to Jerry Jones to fabricated war stories to baby mama discrepancies.
He heard the dreams of rap stardom through fists beating against brick and the polishing of skillful deliveries.
“Aye, J Real. Shoot me summin’. I’ma send my line. Aye. J Real . . .” Jaire heard the ignored voice go on.
He heard the snoring, then he heard the screams. Death of the mind, death of the spirit, and physical deaths were all quotidian features in this environment.
But Jaire, numb to the madness, lay there thinking about his journey . . . his transgressions. In a place where it is believed to be detached from all emotions except anger, he smiled. Then, as quickly as his cheeks bulged out, his smile evaporated.
For a smile comes from within. He searched his mind, looking, for the last time he was truly happy. In the lightest of spirits. And he couldn’t recall those feelings. He doubted if they were real moments. To him they were foreign objects—myths, phantoms.
Reality was now. Cold and concrete. No give. Relentless. A perpetual crushing force . . . So he pulled down his pen and note pad and began to write.
* * *
“Slrrrp, slrrrp, mmmnh.” D’Asia let out a muffled moan. She was currently working to subdue Josiah by trying to swallow his engorged appendage whole at the moment.
Giving herself a hand with plenty of spit, she was cramming him in her throat while attempting to tickle his sack with the tip of her tongue. Sloppy toppy at its finest.
With her free hand, D’Asia tried to calm the Category 5 that was slipping through her fingers by thumbing her aching nub. Her heightening excitement sent saliva meandering down his shaft.
“Hold up, hold up, bae,” Josiah said, pulling D’Asia off his dick with a loud slurp and a pop. “You gon’ max a nigga out fo’ I even get to give you this work,” he said, standing up to sit D’Asia on the couch.
“You know I’m ’bout my bi’ness. I just wanna take care of you, babe,” she said, sitting and kissing his robust maleness.
“That’s why I fuck witcha. Now lay back and hold these muthafuckas out my way.” Josiah gestured at her lithe, thick legs—fine and shaped from running track.
D’Asia licked her lips then obligingly spread wide like the branches on the acacia tree, eager to get her pussy punched on like he was Errol Spence Jr. in the middle rounds. Josiah cradled the back of D’Asia’s head to make her watch him guide his glistening mahogany stick deep inside her body.
“Sssss . . .” D’Asia hissed and sucked in air between her teeth.
Josiah sank to the bottom of her ocean and shot a few slow jabs like he was trying to massage her insides. D’Asia’s eyebrows were scrunched, enjoying this methodical prodding as she leaked unabatedly.
“Ahh!” D’Asia yelped when Josiah pulled almost all the way out then slammed back down. He repeated this process again and again.
Clap . Clap . Clap .
Their bodies sounding off as Josiah upped the tempo.
“Uuh . . . Ssss . . . Get it, bae. Fuck me,” D’Asia breathed as Josiah plunged and sloshed around in her puddle, making her pussy talk. “Please,” she begged as Josiah pummeled relentlessly.
“Please what?”
“Please make me cum I need . . . to . . .”
“Get that nut, bae. Get it.”
“Unh. Anh. Sshhiitt!” D’Asia shouted as her grip convulsed and spazzed.
Watching her jerk and twitch underneath him sent Josiah over the top. “Uuh . . . Fuck!” he grunted, pulling out and splashing his thick, milky glaze all over her breasts and belly, dotting her macchiato complexion like confectionary sugar. D’Asia enjoyed watching the money shot as she savored the relaxation of her body after a good