The Godbolt Trinity: Book 2

By Michael Zinetti

This is the second book in The Godbolt Trinity Series and shows the further development of Chris Bontey as Godbolt with help of his teacher, Beatrice Chang AKA The Giftress. The other secondary main characters, Kevin Sarcy as The Mindwriter, and Blastus Legend as the Anti-Nigger Machine, now known as The Legendary Blaster, also develop, as their alliances and subsequent goals evolve.

Chris Bontey or Godbolt is a 23-year-old Chinese food delivery driver and lackluster college student who misses his medication and as a result seems to develop super powers. This second book, Bontey has found his teacher, and now must learn to concentrate and cultivate his powers without doing anything to offend his young teacher.
Unbeknownst to Bontey, there is a secret government organization, aptly and simply titled, The Organization led by an extremely determined man named Horace Danbury. The purpose of the Organization is unclear, but seems to be to find mutants and either get them to join the Organization or terminate them.
The book begins with the Organization having captured Blastus Legend or The Anti-Nigger Machine, and now trying to get him to join them. Danbury hopes to use Blastus Legend as a powerful ally to help recruit Godbolt, but first needs him to take care of a small mess The Mindwriter made in the first book.
The book is written in first person from the three main characters’ points of view, with Godbolt taking the lion’s share of the book, followed by The Mindwriter, and lastly the ANM.
Kevin Sarcy or The Mindwriter is an ambition mind reader and writer with immense powers and promise, who, apart from ambition, has a very sadistic and egotistical streak. He is a downright bastard. In the second book, The Mindwriter hopes to increase his powers and become a Crossing Guard, one who can cross over to dimensions at will. He has also developed a few love interests, with one in particular his pinnacle love interest.
Blastus Legend or The Anti-Nigger Machine, named after the Public Enemy song of the same title, is an ex-college basketball star who injured his knee and thus ending his hopes of NBA stardom. To make matters worse, Legend loses his scholarship and is forced to leave school. These events leave Legend a deeply bitter man. He sees much of his fate as a result of his color. He is extremely depressed and moves to the inner-city and becomes a drug dealer and pimp. However, when he develops special powers, Legend’s life takes a completely different turn. In the second book, Legend must decide if he wants to join the Organization, as the Angel Lizabeth has requested him to do, so that he might fulfill his "calling". A calling ANM has no knowledge of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Zinetti
• Release date: Apr 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301632367

Michael Zinetti

Michael Zinetti is a writer/musician/artist based in Springfield, MO. He graduated from Missouri State University with a Bachelor's of Art in Creative Writing. Michael Zinetti has several titles under his belt, including the first two books from The Godbolt Book Series, the first season with nine episodes from the Switek of Springfield Series, three volumes for the Some Cool Ways Series, My Search For Love On Craigslist, and Going Postal, all available at Smashwords and other locations on the net. Also, Michael Zinetti has an album called Sweet Bloody Kisses. Be sure to check Michel Zinetti out in all his many silly incarnations.

Book preview

The Godbolt Trinity

Book 1

From The Godbolt Trinity Series

by

Michael Zinetti

Copyright 2013 Michael Zinetti

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Note To Reader

Part 1 In The Belly Of The Mother-Fucking Beast by ANM

Part 2 The Gift Of Giving by Godbolt

Part 3 Hell Hath No Fury Like A Gerty Faux Scorn by The Mindwriter

Part 4 Enter A Bad Influence by Godbolt

Part 5 From The Anti-Nigger Machine To The Legendary Blaster by ANM

Part 6 The Giftress And The Godbolt by Godbolt

Part 7 Crossing Over To Haven by The Mindwriter

Part 8 What Have You Done For Me Lately? by ANM

Part 9 The Straw That Broke The Giftress' Back by Godbolt

Godbolt's Super Powers & To Do List

Additional Michael Zinetti Titles

Note To Reader

This may be unnecessary, but I thought I would speak a bit about some of the subject matter in this book, as I’m predicting there may be some backlash. In this book, much to Spike Lee’s probable chagrin and disapproval, one of the main characters is black. From what I’ve seen and read about Lee, he doesn’t take too kindly to white guys writing black guys. Worse yet, he definitely doesn’t take too kindly to white guys using the N word in their writing. Well, this has been cause for much deliberation and concern on my part. And to Lee and whoever else who might be offended, I am deeply and truly sorry. This is not my intention. I myself am repelled by the N word and NEVER use it, as I believe it’s a word white people have lost all privileges to. And yet something strange occurs when we trespass into the world of art and creative writing and freedom takes precedence.

When I write, I usually go wherever the character wants to go. I decided fairly early on to make one of my main characters in this book, The Anti-Nigger Machine (Taken from the Public Enemy song of the same title), black. To make matters worse, ANM is very angry (as are the other main characters, Godbolt and The Mindwriter) and highly sensitive to racial slights, as well he should be. There is a catch, though. He is black, but was raised by white people, giving me a little bit more of a handle on him. In a way, ANM is somewhat new to the black culture, as he expresses in his parts, and as a result, comes off a little heavy handed and a bit stereotypical, as he attempts to compensate for lack of exposure to the black community and culture. He is generous with his F words, and sometimes, N words, as you will see. Like Tropic Thunder, I’m a white guy writing a black guy, who was raised by white people, but now wants to be black again.

The thing that Lee might be over-looking is all creative writing, whenever it’s not autobiographical, involves some supposition when walking in the character’s shoes, ie. Harper Lee was never a man named Boo Radley and Sylvester Stallone was never a black man, when he wrote Apollo Creed. A creative writer plays with supposition, because how could he truly know? So, yeah, I’ve never been a black man. But I’ve been a human. And I’ve been hurt. And I’ve been left out. And I’ve been mistreated. I can’t tell you how it feels, specifically, to be a black man and experience racism firsthand. I’m writing in supposition. And I hope I did okay.

After all this, I hope you enjoy Godbolt and the Godbolt series.

Part 1

In The Belly Of The Mother-Fucking Beast

by

The ANM

1

In The Belly Of The Mother-Fucking Beast

1

In The Belly Of The Mother-Fucking Beast

By

The ANM

All those white mother-fuckers can kiss my black ass, were my general sentiments toward earth and all the fuckers, God included, who kept that fucked-up world spinning. I was gone. Nobody was gonna kick this angry black man around like a mother-fucking kickball anymore. I was gone.

As my body slowly drifted upward, I met the black oblivion with childlike curiosity. I was ready for the next stage of life. I was ready for death.

There is more for you to do, a familiar voice uttered.

I saw a large circular light and in its center was an angel with a white gown and white wings and all that other mother-fucking shit angels have. She slowly descended down to me, until her glowing ass was right there, close enough to touch, in front of me.

There is more for you to do, Zabithia said again.

I was ready to fucking lose it. I ain't lying. I was ready to fucking cry like a bitch and lose it right there in that fucked-up inexplicable blackness.

Blastus, she said. You are a good man. It's true, your life has been full of trials and tribulation. And in the face of these things, you lashed out in anger. But there is good in you. This I know. As much as we would love for you to join us, my dear Blastus, there is more life to be lived. There is more for you to do.

Damn! I cried out into the blackness. Why you always gotta be fucking with me? I was so mother-fucking tired of this angel's bullshit.

It pains me to see you so disheartened, she said.

Then let me see my fucking bitches!

Remember, Blastus, it isn’t me who keeps you from your bitches.

I beg to mother-fucking differ. Whose idea was it to take all my bitches from me in the first place?

This wasn’t my doing.

Bullshit! I shouted, turning away.

I heard Esperanza’s prayers and I took pity on her. And believe it or not, I also heard your unspoken prayers, the desire of your heart, to finally have a family of your own, a place of your own, to belong. My heart flew to you. And I interceded. On your behalf. I led Esperanza to you. And you and Espy fulfilled the other’s needs. This is what I did for you.

Yeah, I said, conceding.

And now there is something you must do. For me. For Espy. For yourself, Blastus.

Wait a fucking minute! Are you saying I gotta do this because I, what, owe you and shit?

You owe me nothing. You are free to do as you please. All men are free to do as they please.

That’s what you mother-fucking think.

You are free moral agents, she said.

Yeah yeah. I shook my head. So what the fuck is this big mother-fucking thing I gotta do? Let me do it, and be done with it! So I can be with my bitches.

I will tell you soon enough. For now, you must join the Organization. If you do so, it will be easier for you to fulfill your calling.

Oh, it's a calling now? Join the Organization? Fuck!

It is a means to an end.

Fuck that! I ain’t joining those mother-fuckers. I ain’t taking orders from those white mother-fuckers. I ain’t taking orders from another white mother-fucker as long as I live.

Please, Blastus. You must. Or all is lost.

"I told you, you angel-ass bitch, don't lay that trip on me! Or all is lost! What the fuck kinda bullshit is that?"

My words are righteous and true.

I'll be the one to say what's mother-fucking righteous and what's not mother-fucking righteous!

Please, Blastus. Do as I say.

Shit, I didn't say shit after that. You can't talk to that bitch when she's like that. 'Cept for my bitches, every other bitch I ever knew was a crazy-ass, bossy bitch. I ain't trippin'! And this angel was no different. I don't care if she could glow-in-the-dark, she was still a mother-fucking crazy-ass, bossy bitch!

"Blastus, when you join the Organization, please remember you are not of the Organization. You are a good man. And your charge is ultimately to do good. You will be in the Organization, but you won’t be of the Organization."

"When I join? Shit! You're pretty sure of yourself! Over my dead body! Fuck my life!"

I opened my eyes, and right away, I knew where the fuck I was. I was in the belly of the mother-fucking beast. In the Organization headquarters. Fuck me!

A dull, gray light filled the room. And through the gray light, I could see everything was made of metal, like I was in a metal studio apartment, with a small bedroom area and small living room-type area. The whole room, I mean every inch of it, every surface, was covered in stainless steel. Even the bed and the sofa in the attached living area had a metallic feel to it. Shit, I don't know if these mother-fuckers were trying to make it like a cell in the pen, as if a brother might take to a room like that, or what, but that’s what it felt like. And I sure as hell didn't like it! Racist fucks.

Well, two can play at that mother-fucking game. If they was gonna treat me like a prisoner, than that's how I was gonna be. I was just doing my time. Waiting it out until my bitches showed. So I could blast my way outta there. The only thing is, they asses never showed. Not even Espy. No matter how many times, when I was feeling all alone, enough that I cried out to her, I got nothing in response. Oprah, I don’t mean to come off sounding like a mother-fucking bitch, but damn, I was lonely. Hell, I wouldn't even mind if that mother-fucking control-freak angel came by for a visit. I was that lonely.

From what I could tell, this place was underground, so I didn’t have a clue about the time of day or night. That has to be some form of torture. Cuz, shit, I didn’t know how the fuck long I was in that room, wasting away. I’d just lay there in the constant gray light, in this sort of in-between state of awake and sleep, gazing at the door, for lack of anything else to look at, waiting for it to open.

The only socialization I got, if you could call it that, was when Clement, that geeky fuck, came in with a couple of his underlings. I think I'd been in there about a month or so, damned if I know for sure, when Clement started coming around. The way it worked was I'd be watching the door and then it'd suddenly slide open, similar to those doors on Star Trek, which, if I wasn't feeling so out of it, I might of thought was pretty fuckin' cool, and I wouldn’t be sure if it was real or dream. Then Clement’s two underlings, which were two massive Arian Nation looking fucks, dragged me out. And next thing I know, I’m in this dungeon-type place and they're working me over like I stole something. The only time they stopped beating my ass was when Clement wanted to try to get me to join the Organization. Pretty fucked up, huh Oprah? What the fuck kind of recruiting method was that?

Blastus? Clement called out to me. Can you hear me?

Masta, don’t beat me no mo, I said. Truth was, I was starting to like the pain. If I have to choose between pain or feeling nothing at all, I was gonna pick pain every time. Shit.

When I pulled that Master/Slave bullshit, Clement would shit and yell for the Arian brothers to come beat my ass some more.

Blastus? he said after a while longer. Say you’ll join us, and make me believe you, and this’ll all be over.

I'll join. So long as I get to have a little company in my room. Hey, I know. How 'bout your wife? Yeah, I'll join if your wife will come visit me in my metal room. I get tired of all that metal. I just hope your wife isn't made of metal. Fuck it, I don't care. Yeah, I'll join if I get to fuck your wife. Yeah, I could fuck your wife something fierce. Tear that ass up! I'd fill her ass to the brim with my special sauce. And when I was through, she'd be so full of black cum, she'd think her white ass was ready to dance the Soul Train line. Yeah! Fuck yeah! I mean, if that's cool with you?

Yeah, so this was pretty much the routine. Leaving me alone for weeks and then pulling me out to fuck me up real good and ask me if I want to join the Organization. And I'd tell him, sure as long as I could fuck his wife, or his sister, hell, even his mother. It's fucking weird to admit, but along with the pain, I started to like the routine, too. Especially when they beat my ass so bad I passed out. I got some of my best sleep when I was passed out. Then they’d pour a bucket of water over me and wake my ass up. Fuckers.

Blastus?

I looked up. It was Danbury. I hadn’t seen him in forever. Not since I almost blasted his ass. Blastus? What use is there in resisting? You have a wonderful gift. It’s true. So why not use it? When you’re with us. When we know you’re truly one of us, only then will the Mindwriter give you access to your bitches.

I didn’t say shit.

Danbury shook his head and walked away.

The truth is, I was so fucked up, and my lips were so swollen, I could barely think straight, let alone speak. When I tried to talk, only a whisper came out. And when I did this, one of those Arian fucks saw me and called for Danbury. So Danbury walked over.

Yes? What is it, Blastus?

I motioned for him to lean over.

He did.

Danbury, I whispered. Tell me the truth.

Yes. I will.

When we were in the woods, and I was about to blast your ass to kingdom come, did you shit yourself? Cuz it sure looked like you shit yourself.

Danbury’s eyes went red and he stormed off.

All the while, I was calling after him, Come back, Danbury! I was just shittin’ you, bro. No, wait You were the one shittin' me. Right, bro! Hey, man, if the leader of a secret government organization shits himself in the woods and no one's there, does it make a sound? Hey, if you shit yourself, I ain't mad at ya! How could I be mad at you, you weaselly fuck?

That gave me the chuckles, kept me going for a couple more weeks.

One night, I was lying there, still smiling about giving Danbury shit, when the door suddenly slid open. Then, preceded by the sounds that could only be Van Halen, as if it was his theme song, that fucker walked in. The Mindwriter.

You! I yelled, struggling to get up.

All right. Chill out, ANM.

Fuck you! I got news for your ass; I don’t need no fucking bitches to whip your scrawny ass! I stood up. I was ready to tear him apart.

The Mindwriter just stood there and smiled that evil smile of his.

I lunged to grab him but came up empty, causing me to lose my balance and tumble past him and onto the floor, sprawling out up against a metal cabinet. Shit!

Careful, ANM. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. He smiled again. I’ll have you know, I’m not really here. When you see me, chances are, I’m not really there. Just a little something I’ve learned along the way, especially when I was getting acquainted with you.

Should have known. Scared-ass bitch. I started looking around. Wondering where he was for real.

We’re all entitled to our own opinion. That is, until someone comes along and changes it for them. So, think of me as you like.

Thanks, mother-fucker! I will! You’re a scrawny-ass chicken-shit bitch!

Are you finished?

And you’re a fucking evil bastard!

Finished?

Hell no! But then I couldn’t think of anything else.

Fine. Now, I want you to hear me out.

You might as well shut the fuck up! I ain’t gonna listen to some mother-fucker who isn’t even really here!

"Have you ever heard of the expression, I think, therefore I am?"

Yeah, mother-fucker. Who the fuck hasn't? Descarte.

ANM! You surprise me.

You don’t surprise me. You see a black man and you think you know everything about him and everything he knows when you don’t know shit!

"Well, I apologize. As far as I think, therefore I am and how it applies here is I'm here because you are thinking of me. I exist because you’re thinking about me. I’m in your brain. To be precise, I’m a projection of your imagination. A somewhat altered imagination, but your imagination nonetheless."

Yeah, well, your ass ain’t welcome in my brain, so get the fuck out, you mother-fucker! Get the fuck outta my head!

ANM, you are far too hasty. I come bearing gifts. Call it a peace offering.

Kill that noise! Get the fuck outta my head!

ANM, I'm merely trying to make amends.

Fuck you!

Yeah, I know. Fuck me. Listen, ANM, you and me aren't that different. I don’t give a shit about the Organization. They don’t own me. Nobody owns me. I have a feeling you feel the same way. I just want things to be cool between you and me.

I don’t trust no mother-fucking white devil! And I definitely don’t trust no mother-fucking white devil who can read and change people’s minds! That’s just fucking evil! Now, kindly get the fuck out of my mind!

I will. I just thought you might be a little lonely.

I didn’t say nothing.

"I thought you might like