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Kyle's Army
Part 2
Profiling or Prejudice
A funny, racially explicit novel by Michael K. Jones.
The Search for Reasons was originally titled The Coincidences of Kyle.
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Profiling or Prejudice is a funny, racially explicit, 80 page mini-novel based on a short period in the life of Tyrone Jenkins, a college graduate who falls in love with a woman who has a specific agenda all of her own. It is full of facts that are comically written for your amusement.
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Part 1
(294 pages)
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Here are some pictures that represent Dominance.
It was a foggy morning on the 28th of July, 1945. The urban noise of New York City life seemed louder than normal. Miss Josephine Flaigan, a trading company typist, was sitting at her desk, sipping on a cup of black coffee. She looked up and stared at the never-ending pile of work in her inbox. Feeling disgusted, she put her coffee cup down, and unfrivolously wrote a memo on her desk calendar, reminding herself to pick up a Sunday paper to look for employment elsewhere. Her office was on the 75th floor of the tallest building in the world, the Empire State Building. Her friend Ersila, who sat at a desk across from her, stood abruptly and grabbed her purse. “Hey Joe, you want another bagel with cream cheese?” she asked, walking past her desk. “I'm heading down to the café.” “My name's Josephine and no—I'm trying to lose weight,” she said discontentedly. “Do you remember the red one piece bathing suit I wore last year? I plan on wearing it next week to Coney Island.” Ersila glanced back. “That ass is going to need more than a week,” she mumbled. John, her supervisor, ran past Josephine's desk. His eyes never lost sight of Ersila. “Wait up, Mrs. Harrington!” he yelled across the office. “I'll join you.” She slowed her pace as he passed her and opened the exit door. The two of them stood quietly at the elevator door and stared at the arrow pointer as the elevator rose to their floor. It reached the 75th floor and the doors slowly split open. John raised his arm like a gentleman. “After you, madam,” he said politely. “Thank you, sir,” Ersila whispered in a sexy voice. The elevator attendant stepped out of the car as they entered. The doors closed and Ersila started undoing the buttons on John's shirt. He pushed the down button and began passionately kissing her. “Hit the stop switch,” she said, breathing heavily. “I've been thinking about you all morning.” The elevator stopped between the 71st and 72nd floor. Ersila took off her shirt and suddenly they heard a loud explosion. The elevator shook. “What the fuck was that?” she asked as they both looked up at the ceiling of the elevator. “I think the Germans are attacking,” John replied nervously, knowing the war had ended in Europe. He put his shirt back on, reset the emergency stop switch, and then pressed the down button for the lobby. They heard a second explosion and then the lights went out. Ersila started to panic. “Stop your screaming, we're going to be alright,” John said calmly. The elevator began to jerk, and then plummeted almost one thousand feet to the sub-basement. Around 10:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, an Army B-25 bomber crashed into the 79th floor of the Empire State Building. When the bomber hit, visibility was zero as fog covered the entire New York skyline.
Excerpt from The Search for Reasons
Dominance also has a bonus short story added at the back of the novel called Vindictive.
Excerpt of Kyle's Army at bottom of "About Author " page.
“Only the ones that stay in there five hours,” Jeff said quickly gulping his icy cold diet Coke. "We're leaving in four." “You need help,” stated Tyrone. “Possibly a psychiatrist.” “You did this to me,” Jeff said pulling his empty drink away from his mouth. “You’re the racist profiling bigot that has abused my mind since the ninth grade, filling it with unethical and demoralizing anecdotes based on a precursor of unrelated and unproven facts fabricated in the frontal lobes of your Neolithic, post Neanderthal mind.” “Now that was the nerdiest thing you’ve said all year,” Tyrone said getting up and throwing his plate away. “When did you get a Ph.D in psychology?” “Just a minute ago, when this brain-freeze shrunk my dick like a scared turtle’s head.” “Absolutely no doubt, you need some loven from one of those skanky grenades from New Jersey.” “I’d rather fuck a HIV positive, transvestite prostitute from the red-light district of Queens that has numerous cold-sores compounded with a scorching case of incurable syphilis.” “I see…you want to commit suicide, not to mention have a love affair with another man.” “I was only joking.” “Sure,” said Tyrone walking ahead while staring at a beautiful skinny white girl. “Don’t look too hard,” said Jeff. “She’s not your type.” “What’s that suppose to mean?” “Black men are usually seen with a 300 pound white woman carrying a baby with two other noticeably mixed kids trailing behind them.” “And?” “She’s not big enough for you.” “Don’t you think maybe having those kids caused her to gain weight?” asked Tyrone. “Fat white women, can’t find a white man who’s faithful, so they turn to the next best thing,” said Jeff. “A black man that’ll fuck anything.” “Your mother isn’t fat.” “She had Jungle Fever after watching that old Wesley Snipes movie,” said Jeff. “Come to think of it, my dad does look like him.”
