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Gem Thomas

Gem Thomas

Anchorage, Alaska

My name is Gem Thomas. I graduated from the Pennsylvania College of Technology in 2009 with a bachelor's degree in Paralegal studies. Armed with an esteemed university degree, a powerful job in politics lined up, and groups of well-wishers abound, I hopped on a plane to begin post-college reality.

I landed on a remote Polynesian island, instead. My new mission was to pick coffee cherries deep in a cloud forest and if I was lucky, find the answers to who I would be and what I would offer humanity? Fast forward through the years spent as a highway gentlemen and today, I'm found in Alaska, my home. If you are curious as to what my purpose is and who I am, you can get the gist by surveying this page. You can do it. Go for it.

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Mohammad Husayn's Sufferings

A comedy

In the year 2033 an MMA superstar finds everything he loves in life taken from him, because of a bet between the Devil and God. But why?

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Literary Fiction
85,000 words
100% complete
1 publisher interested


Greetings. I need your help to publish my newest novel. I am asking you to take a few minutes to read it and decide on a reward. Every reward, encourages a publisher to support this novel.


Check out author bio too. 


Mohammad Husayn's Sufferings, begins with the Devil debating God. The Devil tells God a man he has been observing is only righteous because God has abundantly blessed him. God disagrees. The young man in question is none other than Mohammad Husayn, the mixed martial arts World Heavyweight Champion. He has a wife, fame, wealth, a family, and is gifted athletically. Mohammad is also humble. Unsurprisingly, he lands in the Devil's crosshairs. So, the Devil proposes if he takes away Mohammad's happiness, his goodness would vanish. Then, God would learn a lesson. God agrees. On fight night, the Devil strikes. It is here, the American-Muslim refugee begins his journey.


The nearest stories to mine are the writings of Trey Parker and Matt Stone. This story is satirical, like much if not all of their work. 

Christopher Moore's works. 

This novel is different though, because the Devil is the narrator. I had a lot of fun using a voice like this in a novel. I don't know of anything else in movies, video games, or television shows with such an entertaining voice, one that Mick Jagger would say is brilliant.   


Three reasons. 

1)First and foremost, everyone wants to see a display of talent. When I write, especially as I hit my stride in the process, I enter a state of mind that is comparable -scientifically proven- to super athletes or rappers when they freestyle. It is that essence we as human beings, not consumers, really want to see or hear, or READ. It's science. 

2)Hot Topics! The main character is an American-Muslim refugee. Also, you will lose things you cherish. It's a fact of life. With this fictional tale you see an extreme version of it take place with Mohammad, our twenty-one year old superstar. In this satirical work we see what would really happen if a man has his livelihood, wife, and health and wealth taken from him. It's what would happen to a normal person in that situation.

3)I could say reading improves your grip on language. I could tell you reading the novel and sharing your opinion of it with other people is worth it, but instead I'd rather inspire. This is an opportunity to show the world, social nets revolutionize and replace an old system. 


Once 1000 copies are pre-ordered an experienced publisher will partner with me. Reward money employs editors and designers. Physical prints are created and distributed.   


Chapter 1 - God and Devil make a bet to ruin Mohammad's life. Introduction of characters. Mohammad delivered to weigh-ins after hearing in news about birth-city being under siege. 

Chapter 2 - Official weighing in of fighters. Mohammad and wife talk about their strange incident in bedroom, night before he departs for Las Vegas. 

Chapter 3 - Mohammad and two brothers, Gabriel and Daniel, learn parents were murdered by Islamic extremists. 

Chapter 4 - Anything Goes Championship Heavyweight fight starts.

Chapter 5 - Fifth and final round ends. New Heavyweight Champion not Mohammad. Mohammad invited to VIP party after fight. 

Chapter 6 - Invitation accepted to masquerade party in MacDonald Highlands. Mohammad meets Destiny, world-famous porn actress. 

Chapter 7 - Dances with Destiny. Wife learns about this in real time and of kiss. She freaks out and a friend encourages her to confront him in Vegas that night. While racing to airport she wrecks car. 

Chapter 8 - Mohammad finds out about accident and loss of 100% of inheritance. 

Chapter 9 - Visits Angelica in hospital. She's braindead. Contacts Destiny for answers. 

Chapter 10 - Destiny responds to his friend request. Mohammad finds out through attorney his 3-d printing-clothing company is frozen by injunction. Family and friends tell him he looks sick. Gigz, black lab, is hit and killed. Returns to gym after hiatus. Spars brother Daniel, also pursuing MMA career.  

Chapter 11 - Collapses from sparring and hospitalized, after not regaining consciousness. Diagnosed with Werner Syndrome. 

Chapter 12 - Returns to Vegas for brother's debut fight. Determined to have Destiny in his life at all costs. Goes to her job in strip club. 

Chapter 13  - Meets Destiny finally. Meets Destiny's girlfriend, Stacey. Takes them both from their job and three spend the day together. 

Chapter14 - Mohammad taken to drug dealer's house. Coaxed into paying off Destiny's debt. Gets high on heroine with Mexican-American fans, Destiny, and Stacey.  Visits Picasso exhibit at Destiny's wish. Mohammad propositioned by Destiny to steal La Reve painting, by Picasso. In exchange for permanent ownership of both women's body and mind. Rape of Destiny scene. 

Chapter 15 - Fight Night for Daniel. Next day, robbery of painting detailed. Robbery happens.  

Chapter 16 - Destiny, Stacey, and Mohammad become item with stolen art in their possession. All characters travel via commercial spaceflight to celebrate in outer space. 

Chapter 17 - In outer space a 'miracle' happens, before everyone. This is a twist in the plot and to tell it would spoil years of work. 




Well, well, well looky who we have here. It’s the most majestic of all creations. A no good smelly human being. I will say one positive thing, you’re brave to hang. Who am I? I’m the one, the only one, who’s been kicked outa’ heaven. So, I roam through time and space as punishment, but it’s bullshit anyway in that fluffy, white shit hole. I’ve been serving my sentence since you upstaged me in the beginning. So, I get even by tempting all of you. Once in a while, I’ll confess, it can be entertaining. Come with me, I’ll show you what I mean. 

“Who dareth trespass?” God yelled with that universe-creating voice.
“Ah. Tis mine enemy. Comest thou to make amends?” 
“No. I’m not here to make peace. You are unforgiven. I’m here to shoot the shit.”
“What doeth though mean? Thouest mustn’t shoot thine shit with me. Dost not my palace look like a palace? Or doth though thinkest tis some sort of stoop where ye can stop by at thine own pleasure?” God can be such a clown. You don’t know. 
“Can you cut it out? You do this every time. You don’t talk like that.” 
“Ok. True. True. You got me, but you really didn’t though.” God waved his pale-brown hands and chuckled.
“What up? You angry? Again?”
“Yea. Your creation is garbage ya know?” God listened to me. This sets him off when I condemn mankind.  
“Stop. Denial isn’t just a river you made. You know some men and women hate you. You must find those kind downright despicable.”    
“Nah. Humans are my greatest achievement. Every one of them.” 
“You’re telling me the ones that curse you, you have no problem with?”
“So, down there is a man you made. He’s strong. He’s a powerful leader and he’s humble. You’ve given him a lot would you agree?”
“If he curses you, you won’t be mad at him?” 
“If he curses me at all you mean.” 
“He won’t praise you if I can have it my way. I’ll get him to curse you.”  
“Get outa here with that jibberjabber.” 
“God. This righteous man praises you today for one reason. You blessed him. If I take it away from him, tomorrow he’ll hate you.” God shut his eyes, rubbed his fingers on his temples, and replied, “You’re talking crazy.” 
“Wanna bet?”
“A bet? Sure.” God readjusted himself in his glowing throne. 
“I can do anything to him?”
“Yes. If it is the man I am thinking of he will educate you.”
“Wrong. He’ll educate you.” 
“The only restriction is do not be known to his eyes.” The Almighty said to me. 
“And you’re not either!”
“So whack. I’m straight with that rule. I’m outy.”  Come with me you dumbass, thrill-seeking human. I’m going to the desert.

An operator kept his eyes on the display screen of a drone, hovering above a luxurious home. The thick bearded man and his armed men stood under date trees down the street from this estate. For weeks, these militants had been conquering small farms and remote towns along a desert river. Last night, as the sun was setting, they were welcomed into the city with one-hundred and twenty-three grain bullets firing upon them. After a night and day of bloodshed, the last line of defense was inside this mansion. 
“They are at fifty meters. The targets are still refusing to surrender.” The dark-skinned deputy with a window’s peak and beard said. This man at the controls waited for a response from his field commander who was sitting in a richly-upholstered swivel chair, far from the front line. 
“Take me around back.” The field commander ordered. The deputy adjusted the throttle joystick and carefully moved the direction lever. The view on the field commander’s tablet transitioned from a sandy street into a garden enclosed by high-metal fences. The two noticed a bronze man, in a crouched position with arms extended. 
“What’s that?” The field commander barked. The statue was surrounded by fountains, flowers, and mandarin trees.
“It says this is the birthplace, of that fighter, the American Muslim.”  
“What American-Muslim fighter?” 
“Mohammad Husayn. It’s his family’s palace.” 
“Mohammad Husayn. Is it really?” The field commander asked.
“Yes. Emir, look at that.” 
“I see it.” The commander said, referring to the golden medals around the statue’s neck.
“He’s a great fighter Emir.” The field commander itched his hairy chin and held his breath.
“Does this change our mission? Should we negotiate?” The deputy began to sweat even more and he swallowed his saliva, as he waited for a scolding. 
“Has not his family rejected the caliphate?” He screamed at his deputy.  
“Yes.” The deputy looked down at his shaking toes, sticking out from his sandals.  
“Are the rebels trapped?”
“Yes Emir. But, it’s Mohammad Husayn’s family. Do we proceed?” 
“Of course we proceed. They are our enemies.” A string of spit popped between his canine teeth, as he shouted. 
“Execute all of them and burn it. If not, you’ll join them. Your wives and children won’t be happy!” 
“How foolish of me. Forgive me. We’ll storm the palace now.” 
“That’s right. An ounce of fear in the world’s eyes is worth far more than a pound of gold from our enemy’s hands. I want them killed. Send me the recording. I’ll forward it to production and you’ll be online within a day. Do this and your family will be given fresh water. I’ll see to it.” He mumbled with a raised chin. 
“Bless you Emir.” 
“That’ll teach American Muslims.” The field commander pressed the red end call button. He squinted his eyes and glanced at the tent’s opening. All was tranquil, except for the sound outside of a camel moaning at his driver. The field commander called out with his deep voice to a guard. Immediately, a man with an assault rifle slung around his shoulder entered the tent. 
“Keep everyone away. You hear? I’m meditating with God.” 
“Yes Emir.” Once the guard disappeared behind the black flap, he moved his book of scripture to uncover a second computer tablet. The commander glanced at the entrance one more time. He had privacy. His heart beat intensified and he breathed in heavily at the tap of a power button. He hit the play button on a video. 

A young Asian-looking woman was chilling on a well-lit couch. A bald, white man with a serious overbite sat next to her. 
“You’re pfretty.” He said with glowing eyes.  
“Thanks.” The model blushed.  
“I fwanna’ go down on you.” The male actor couldn’t pronounce shit on a stick with his under-developed jaw. 
“No. Yuck.” Said the uber-feminine Asian with two pink hearts tatted in between her tits. 
“Plus, have you ever gone down on a girl?” 
“Last thime I went down on a girl, it tasfted like fthit.”
“No wonder when it tasted like shit.” She said, flipping her long black hair.  
“That overbite.” He didn’t hesitate to slap the woman, hard, and tear off her shirt and bra. He beat her until every inch of her body was black and blue. The field commander bounced up and down in his seat and clapped his hands at the Asian-looking woman being fictitiously raped. The emir remembered to blink, as he pulled his white thobe above his knees. In this manner, the mattress actress won new fans from pole to pole. For in this fair maiden’s role, she let him move from hole to hole, then gobbled his whole pole. 

Meanwhile, across the sand dunes, the deputy pressed the return to pilot button on the drone’s controller. He handed it off to his second in command and stomped out into the street.  
“Muster along the wall.” He was avoiding potential flanking fire by having his men meet off the street. The veteran fighters came together. Some yawned, others palmed their hairy faces, but every man walked with eyelids as heavy as his boots. They stood proud, holding their M16 rifles and wearing their sweat-soaked keffiyehs. The men looked with an empty gaze, through their smart glasses, at their leader. They heard his order of execution and reacted.

Shortly later, the field commander received the eight minute recording. He was happy to move from viewing a porn video to watching his soldiers throw grenades at petrified people and shoot down peaceful protesters. 

Meanwhile, in another of Earth’s deserts, two men stared at their wrist phones. They waited under the eave of a mixed martial arts center and watched their automatically-scrolling news feed. The one eighteen year old man with orange hair, looked up with bright blue eyes at his Arab-American friend. 
“Your bro’s amazing.” 
“He is blessed.” The dark-skinned man with a beard nodded his head.
“They say here, four billion people are tuning in. The biggest viewing ever!” The coppertop shouted the number, as he pointed toward the screen on his wrist. 
“He has to be nervous. I mean you know, his opponent is a bad dude. He dead lifts a thousand pounds.”
“Kyle. You’re getting caught up in propaganda.” Kyle glanced again at his wrist phone. 
“Yea. It’s the hype surrounding this fight. It’s insane. I can’t help but get into it. Your bro always stays cool before a fight, but this fight is serious. He’s gotta be stressing a little.” 
“He says it never crosses his mind.”
“All the attention.” Kyle put both hands to his temples then shot them off and said, “Man. He’s the real deal.” 
“His strength comes from God, as does his super-human speed.” 
“It is something else…” Kyle continued to shout, “…the whole world knows it. It’s like he can predict his opponent’s moves.” 
“It’s that … but more. When we were little, this was back in our father’s country.”
“Yea.” Kyle’s eyes were wide open, waiting to hear more.
“I remember watching Mohammad as a little kid, juggling and playing Alphabet bean bag toss with my friends.”
“Yea. Daniel told me. You guys would keep throwing him bean bags and he’d keep catching them all and hitting every hole.” 
“Yep. Just to challenge himself. I knew then my little bro was special. I mean big, little bro.”   
“There!” Kyle shouted. 
“They’re always the last to leave.” The tinted-glass door swung open and out stepped two brothers. Following them was a shirtless, sweaty man.
“I tell you that singer can’t make music or clothes. That email you got is shiii… nonsense.” Nobody uses profanity around these three brothers.
“Everyone knows your company was the first Mohammad. Plus your products are way better.” The shirtless man said to the tallest and longest bearded. 
“That’s very kind of you Marshall. Thank God, praise his name. I just don’t know where this lawsuit came from?” Marshall smiled, revealing a front tooth made of gold. The shortest brother said, “Jealous people Mohammad. It’ll be fine. I think it’ll work out. The world knows the good your company does.” Marshall nodded his wet head and flung his hand into the athlete’s hand and bounced it with enthusiasm.  
“I’ll close up here sir.” He then shook hands with the shortest brother.  
“I’m still feeling that right hook from you Daniel.” The shirtless man wiggled his jawbone.  
“Step to the side, not back, next time.” Daniel instructed.
“Yea. I’m working on it. I’ll see you next time. Crush him tomorrow night champ. God bless.” The sparring partner pounded his own chest with his fist and stepped back into the gym. 
“Our ride says it’s gonna be here in three … two…?” Daniel said, looking at the tiny window in his vision, via his smart glasses. Kyle took Mohammad’s sports bag. 
“Pulling in now.” Mohammad said, as he led his two brothers and their mutual friend into the parking lot. 
“Man oh man, I’m glad I changed into shorts. It’s too hot.” Kyle said. Kyle’s pale skin reflected the desert sunlight like a sheet of copy paper.  
“This is not hot.” Daniel said. 
“Yes it is! I can’t stand this heat. I’m gonna need a new shirt if I’m outside for more than a minute.” 
A Mercedes-Benz van pulled right up to Mohammad’s sandals. Darting around the front was a short, pudgy body, dressed to the nines.  
“Ayyeee bradas.” It was the MGM Grand chauffeur. The chauffeur rubbed his fingertip underneath the handle. The door slid open and he stepped back, as Mohammad and his older brother Gabriel jumped into the van.   
“Hey Champ. All the sharps in town are going nuts. Syndicates are up or down on everything, one minute I can get my number and the next they’re saying I can’t, it’s like a see-saw.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It’s getting hot. I’ve never seen anything like this. And I have an hour until props close.”  
“That’s because it’s the biggest fight ever in AGC history!” Daniel said, as he stepped inside the van.  
“And after this fight, nobody will bet against our man. God favors him. Aren’t I right brother?” Daniel asked. 
“I suppose. I’ve prayed hard enough.” 
“God is the greatest and he does.” Daniel said. 
“But, do not lose your money by betting on me.” Mohammad said. The chauffeur tilted his head back and blinked. Mohammad wanted his chauffeur to understand he was no fortune teller, only an honest man. Kyle came up behind the driver and entered the van, “Excuse me.”  
“Don’t gamble on me.” Mohammad believed continuously betting money on an unpredictable outcome with the intent of winning more money is a weakness.  
“Ahhh. Air conditioning!” Kyle said to the crew. 
“Cheehoo!” The chauffeur leaned his wide body forward and high-fived Mohammad. The door closed, blocking the view of a smiling Hawaiian and shaking shaka sign, but not before winking at Mohammad. Mohammad grabbed a sports drink from the stainless-steal mini fridge. 
“Just a sip.” Daniel extended his hand above the lid. Mohammad nodded. They drove down the street. 
“News on.” Gabriel said. The fore and aft screens brightened with a broadcast of world news. Images of an ambulance on fire and streams of blood running down a Macadam road silenced the men.   
“Bombs are exploding throughout the city. They are targeting everyone. The killings are indiscriminate.  It is a dark time, a dark time indeed for this city. A city, which has not seen much peace in the last ten years. We see the insurgents are heavily armed. They are using …”   
“Mute.” Mohammad said. The street journalist’s voice turned off and in this moment, everyone looked at each other. Mohammad ignored the screens and focused on the happenings out the window. A yellow seashell atop a tall pole and a big, golden letter ‘M’ sixty feet up in the air both passed his view. A crowd of people waiting impatiently at a bus stop went flashing by along with sights of a glass pyramid, sphinx, and obelisk. 
“God is the greatest and he will protect them,” Mohammad said.  
“Yup. We don’t need to worry. Even if that city is right near our parent’s home. I had a great work out back there and our brother’s ready for tomorrow night. Whose Russians head is gonna be on a platter? Boris’ head that’s who,” Daniel stated.  
“Mohammad’s takedowns are vicious. Straight vicious. He’s gonna get on top of Boris and rain on him.” Gabriel said, as he rested his feet up on the touch-screen ottoman.    
“You know, Mohammad’s takedowns are thorough, but I’ve been watching his flying knee. It is hitting harder than ever. I mean it’s really powerful now. He’ll end it with a flying knee.” Kyle said. 
“Yea. Williams has improved Mohammad’s flying knee hasn’t he?” Gabriel said to Kyle.
“Oh yea. I learned how to hit harder from him myself.”   
“It was down. You’re both wrong. His flying knee is as perfect as humanly possible.” Daniel objected. Kyle and Gabriel did a double take, dropped their jaws, and raised their eyebrows, as if Daniel dropped a bombshell. They looked at Daniel and waited for him to elaborate. 
“Remember Masahiro Akano?” Daniel asked. Masahiro Akano was a fighter who claimed to be the reincarnation of Niten Doraku. He lost to Mohammad in the fashion explained by Daniel. Gabriel and Kyle echoed the name ‘Masahiro Akano’ just as a Floridian would if bringing up the name of a past hurricane. To Gabriel, Kyle, and Daniel every single fighter Mohammad stepped into the hexagon with was recognized as a force, a force that could devastate their lives.    
“I remember that.” Kyle said while nodding at the ceiling.
“See. You have to study every fight like me if you love this sport.”
“I do. And I’m just saying Mohammad’s flying knee is even better then when he fought in Japan.” Kyle replied.    
“Mohammad has Williams improved your Muay Thai?” Daniel asked.    
“Angelica’s calling.” Mohammad tapped the lime-green answer button on his transparent, wrist phone. The view of thin, black hairs atop his bronze skin suddenly vanished and were replaced with an image of an African-American woman. 
“Hey you. Where’s your smile?” Mohammad asked his wife. 
“Hey.” Angelica held a pillow in her lap and sat upright on their bed.
“I have something to tell you.” She whispered at the smart wall in their bedroom, which displayed her husband’s face.   
“Angelica!” Kyle yelled in the cab. 
“Sup Angelica?” Gabriel shouted. 
“Thanks for your ticket Angelica. You’re the best. I love you.” Kyle said. 
“She’s about to tell me something important. Be quiet. Thanks.” His wild beard and hooked nose demanded respect. Angelica still had not smiled.   
“Sorry about that. We’re just leaving the gym and they’re hyped. What’s up?”  
“I’m really scared.” 
“Your father called after you left. And he was showing me a drone out his window and then after talking about your fight for a little bit the call dropped. I tried to call him back but couldn’t.” The transmitted image Angelica viewed of Mohammad suddenly rocked up and down, because Mohammad clenched his right hand into a fist. She heard bones cracking. Daniel, Gabriel, and Kyle were listening to Angelica. Mohammad peeled his phone from off his wrist and flattened the device, by whipping it in a downward motion. 
“Speaker phone off.” He said. The conversation was now just between their ears and Angelica had a selfie of Mohammad on her smart wall.    
“I’m worried your family is …”
“You’re making up ideas. Not now Angelica. Just stop. I can’t.” 
“I’m sorry honey. But, you must know …” Angelica stopped herself from crying. 
“I can’t do anything about it! I mean, what can I do? Nothing.” These words were painful to say.  
“I’m sure they’re fine.” Angelica sniffled. 
“I know. I know. I work myself up, like you say. It was just so scary Mohammad. I saw your Dad was armed and your Mom was screaming in the background then the call ended. For no reason, it just ended.” She bawled.  
“God is the greatest. He will protect them. Plus I told you my father can handle anything.”
“You’re right. He will.” She dried her eye.
“You aright smiles? This isn't like you. Let me see you smile, like you always do.” 
“I know.”    
“Come on.” She smiled a brilliant toothpaste-commercial smile. Her white pearls contrasted her dark skin. 
“That’s it. Now, I can go.”
“One more thing about the other night, I didn’t mean to say what I said.” 
“I’m in the car with everyone. Not now. We’ll talk later.” Mohammad said this as he glanced at his brothers and friend in the hopes they had stayed ignorant of what happened to the couple. 
“You are right. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I miss you.”  
“I miss you too. I’ll see you Monday.” 
“I love you.” 
“Love you.” Mohammad slapped his phone around his ulna and radius bone and as the device folded, it instantly became clear, except for the time display. 
“Everything aright champ?” Daniel asked, while watching his own wrist phone. 
“Wait. Something’s off.” Mohammad grabbed the belt strap and then, suddenly, the Mercedes-Benz violently switched lanes. Everyone went flying forward in a straight line. The faint sound of tires screeching and horns blaring entered the sound-proof cab.  
“What the?” Daniel shouted. A taxi cab, driven by a female, cruised past them in the wrong direction.
“Would you look at that!” Kyle yelled.  
“I hope God protects her.” Mohammad said. 
“Somebody has to.” Kyle said. 
“Yea. That answers that, I’m never riding my bike down here, not with maniacs like that on the road.” Gabriel shouted. Everyone’s wrist phones flashed and beeped, except for Mohammad’s phone.  
“Dude. Look at my heart rate,” Kyle said. His wrist-phone’s screen showed a heart rate of 159 beats per minute. Daniel and Gabriel saw their heart rates were high too. The men burst into laughter. However, Mohammad who was still reclining and unfazed. Adrenaline had a different effect on his body. The chauffeur appeared on the front and rear screens. 
“Champ you ok? I’m sorry. Some lady came right at me in her taxi.” The MGM Grande’s ambassador was so worked up, he was speaking with his Hawaiian accent. Joshua Khalili’s name and other details appeared under his face. 
“He’s good. In fact he lost a pound in his pants just then.” Gabriel said. All the men laughed again, even louder. 
“That’s a good one.” 
“Yea thanks for that,” Daniel said. The chauffeur put up the shaka sign and said, “Some people get their driver’s licenses outa claw machines I tell ya bra.”  
“What they need to do is have driverless roads everywhere.” Daniel demanded. 
“No bra. No can. Auto cars are bad. What would I do for work?” Joshua asked. 
“Well I mean, every car should be an auto but not this one. MGM Grand Chauffeurs are too important for the experience. They’re just as important as the steering wheel itself.” Joshua smiled. 
“But I’m serious at the same time. Get rid of them. That crazy taxi cab is the prime example for why dumb cars need to be banned. If not people like her get behind the wheel. And good grief. All of it comes apart. That was a taxi driver!” The driver just looked straight ahead and didn’t comment further, because he was paid to drive, not debate. He cut transmission to the cab and the screen resumed with muted news, which to these men was loud enough to wake the dead and soon they’ll wish it could.  
“Did you get that on your smart glasses?” Gabriel asked Daniel, as they reached a controlled stop. 
“Yea. There’s already people commenting on my channel. Most people are saying how quick Mohammad was.” 
“I saw Mohammad react and knew something was up.” Kyle interrupted.
“Yea. Me too. Oh. That one’s funny. Someone said she’s getting a tip … of the passenger’s spear.” He showed it to his brother Gabriel. 
“Your supporters are funny.” Kyle said joining their laughter. The light turned green and they started moving. 
“I don’t have Mohammad’s fans though. Mohammad has all my fans and all of yours combined.” There was a pause as the men calmed down from the near head-on collision. 
“Ya know. I just about ‘supermanned’ it into you.” Daniel said to Gabriel. 
“That was close. I can’t believe that.” Kyle said. All the men laughed again, except for Mohammad. He was thinking about what Angelica said. 

Mohammad, Gabriel, Daniel, and Kyle reached an enormous bronze lion. Behind this monument, a giant photograph of Mohammad projected onto the Las Vegas strip. The United States of America’s flag waved behind Mohammad and the Russian Federation flag flapped behind The Russian Concussion, his opponent. 
“Look at that stallion.” Daniel said. 
“Yea. Next to kabsa on a plate.” Gabriel said. Without saying a word they all agreed. 
“He’s not talented like our bro.” Daniel said. Mohammad feigned a smile, because he was thinking about his parents and guarding his brothers from hearing the news. Joshua delivered them to the front door of the ballroom. He appeared in his suit and tie on their cab screens. 
“And here we are.”  
“Somehow we’re alive.” Kyle said. 
“You saved our lives. Thanks.” Mohammad said.  
“All part of my job. And thanks for the info.” Joshua winked again at Mohammad. 
“Of course. Just follow it and you will appreciate it later.” The sliding door opened and Joshua was already standing in front of the men. Mohammad stepped into the blinding sunlight and tapped his phone. 
“Here. For your quick reflexes.” Joshua smiled ear to ear. 
“Oh you don’t have to. Not after what you told me.” Mohammad shook his hand and Joshua’s wrist phone automatically received money. 
“Take it. Gotta go.” He led his men to the fighters already forming a line into the building. 

If you have read this far, I ask you to help me publish this. Purchase a reward.  

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  • Update #4 - Guerrilla Marketing April 12, 2016

    Was handing out beer and these flyers at festival other week ... had to be clandestine with the move so folded the copies away from …

  • Update #3 - Update #3 March 30, 2016

    Extended this campaign for 30 days. Publishizer is running a contest in the month of April. Winner gets a publishing deal. So I'm gonna win …

  • Update #2 - You guessed it. March 26, 2016

    No. The 1000 some copies needed for publication were not reached. Not a problem. Many solutions come from a single problem. Nonetheless, thanks to those …

  • Update #1 - The gun has fired and I heard it. Feb. 29, 2016

    I completed updating just now. 

    I edited my game plan and website because I was researching how information is spread online and came across an interesting read. …

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