Overview

Technological breakthrough allows US government to provide free, unlimited energy to the nation.
The cost? Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Holocaust in America begins.

Controversy of “America Deceived” by E.A. Blayre III

Regarding the controversy about “America Deceived”, Wikipedia, based solely on this novel, changed their established guidelines then outright banned it. Ebay removed the book for a week from their listings then allowed it to be sold. Rense.com refused paid advertising. There will be no comments about Amazon’s treatment of the novel, they do not deserve any more notoriety.
The author, E.A. Blayre III, has been banned permanently from Facebook in full view of the public (over 1,000 fans/friends witnessed their censorship). Despite these setbacks, the book “America Deceived” continues to sell and the author E.A. Blayre III maintains a profile on MySpace (which has screenshot proof of the censorship). Look for “America Deceived II” to be released in 2009.

Chapter I

     Oprah Winfrey. Michael Jordan. Maya Angelou. Tiger Woods. Derek Jeter. Kanye West. Al Sharpton. Ron Artest. Denzel Washington. Jesse Jackson. Spike Lee. Barry Bonds. Jayson Williams. Chris Darden. Tyra Banks. Bryant Gumbel. Dave Chappelle. Halle Berry. Jayson Blair. Jamie Foxx. Sean Puffy Diddy Combs. Chris Rock. Eminem. Stephen A. Smith. Harry Belafonte. Stuart Scott. Venus Williams. Eddie Murphy. Kobe Bryant. OJ Simpson…OJ Simpson…OJ Simpson…
     ‘Fucking niggers,’ thought Anthony Bruschuto as he used an American Express card to cut up another line of cocaine on the bathroom counter. He rolled up a crisp hundred-dollar bill and inhaled.
     “FUCKING NIGGERS.”
     Anthony Bruschuto a.k.a. “Tony Ducks” a.k.a. “Fingers” a.k.a. “Ant” diced the gram of powder. Tagged “Tony Ducks” because when he entered rooms blazing, every motherfucker ducked. “Fingers” because he once satisfied three naked women in his bed at the same time and still had his clothes on. “Ant”because every wop named Anthony must be called “Ant”.
     Anthony donned a pinstriped Armani suit tailored to every inch of his muscular frame. A raised scar ran parallel to his left eyebrow, crossed the cheekbone and ended at his ear. The blemish occurred in his hometown Boston when an obnoxious, repugnant, detestable Yankees fan smashed a Budweiser bottle across his face after the Red Sox excised Babe Ruth’s curse.
     Maximilian knocked on the bathroom door.
     “Time to go. President expects us.”
     “One second, I am getting my head together.”
     Anthony sniffed one more line, wiped his nose then the counter. He ran both bathroom faucets, washed his face and walked out.
     “Let’s roll.”
     President Andrew Humphrey, Vice President Jack Fremont III and Attorney General Robert Graham gathered in an Oval Office screening room discussing strategy for the approaching re-election campaign.
Maximilian and Anthony arrived, wired in a laptop computer projector and handed out packets to President Humphrey and his cabinet. The President took cursory glances at Anthony as he handed him a thick manila folder. President Humphrey opened the beige envelope, removed binders and leafed through packets. He looked up at Anthony again, longer this time then returned to reading reports. President Humphrey flipped pages quickly, snapped his fingers and jerked his head up.
     “I never forget a face.”
     He studied the features carefully, raised his arm and proclaimed, “Anthony Bruschuto, that’s who you are.”
     Anthony walked over to President Humphrey. They gripped hands in a tight, casual handshake then the President pulled Anthony closer.
     He said lightly, “Have you been keeping out of trouble, Agent Brushcuto?”
     “Always.”
     President’s photographic memory raced calling up Anthony’s CIA records, demerits and achievements. He remembered firing Agent Anthony Bruschuto for insubordination but recollected him receiving classified CIA medals for one brave mission. President Humphrey struggled to recall. He closed his eyes then in a flash his mind flooded with the medal-winning mission of Agent Bruschuto before dismissal…….
     During our War on Terrorism, the United States government inserted CIA agents, Anthony “Fingers” Bruschuto and Johnny “Mike” Spann into Afghanistan. Al Qaeda gunned down Johnny Spann while he searched Mazar-I-Shariff city for the terrorist leader.
     Anthony left Mazar-I-Shariff and journeyed to the Afghan-Pakistan border.
     According to CIA lore, one night while roaming the Afghanistan border, an Al Qaeda clergyman requested a meeting with Agent Anthony Bruschuto.
     “There."
     Cleric’s bony finger shook as he pointed to a mountain range which uncomfortably straddled the Afghan-Pakistan border.
     “That is where you will find him.”
     Osama’s soiled white turban laid on the floor next to his body. Towering billionaire slept, zipped up to his waist, in piles of musty, discolored, down feather sleeping bags. His straggly beard danced in strong, frigid cave winds. Bin Laden rested with a slight smile etched on his face as he dreamed of encountering the seventy-two virgins that awaited him.
     Anthony holstered his gun and unsheathed a gleaming fourteen-inch bow knife, ‘Arkansas toothpick’, which he had scrawled ‘N.Y.P.D.’ on the blade. Anthony carefully stepped over Osama’s body and kneeled above him without touching the long hair on his chin. He held his blade rigidly inches from the neck. With his free hand, he shook Bin Laden awake. Osama’s enormous eyes opened wide nearly bulging from their sockets. His pupils enlarged and blackened.
     Osama instinctively grabbed for the weapon. He grasped the sharp blade holding it firmly between both hands. Anthony spun the bow knife in circles shearing off layers of skin while drilling circular holes into Bin Laden’s palms. Osama gritted his teeth and gripped tighter. Blood poured in sheets over the knife until it slipped out of Anthony’s hand and slid across the floor.
     Bin Laden forcefully pushed Anthony into a stone wall and jumped up. He snatched his white turban from the dusty floor and laughed callously as he pulled out a handgun tucked inside. Osama took a few steps back out of arm-reach. He pointed the gun toward Anthony’s head as blood streamed down his forearms.
     Osama said [in perfect Arabic], “This is legendary CIA? You cannot even defeat a sleeping foe.”
     He turned the gun slightly sideways, aimed between Anthony’s eyes and continued, “I must, however, thank you for killing my guards. They obviously were unqualified for the position. Now, infidel, you die. Praise be Allah.”
     Bin Laden pulled the trigger. The handgun clicked. He pulled the trigger again. The gun clicked. He pulled and pulled and pulled. Click…click….click.
     Anthony smiled broadly, opened his vest pocket and held out the bullet clip. Osama’s jaw dropped as he fixated on the missing puzzle piece. He watched Anthony toss it carelessly to the floor. Osama bent over, reaching for the cartridge when hair on his arms stood up. A cold chill surged through his spine. His mind figured out what his body already knew. He looked up as Anthony ran at him gripping the knife with both hands.
     Anthony thrust upwardly into Bin Laden’s neck pinning him to the cave wall. He stared into black lifeless eyes and forced it in deeper. Osama’s bloodied palms feebly reached for the knife’s handle. Anthony pushed his shoulder into Osama’s chest and dug the sharp blade in until only a scrawled ‘N.Y.’ stuck out above his neck.
     Osama gasped, his arms stretched out then went limp. He pursed his lips, took deep breathes and screamed out a blood curling, “AAALLLLLLAAAHHH AAAKKKBBBAAARRR.”

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     Anthony twisted the knife until he heard praises of Allah end. He wiped the blade clean and sawed off remaining neck bones. Light apparitions rose from earth and immersed the corpse. That night, Osama Bin Laden danced with seventy-two virgins.
     Anthony tossed the bloodied head into a burlap bag, killed another guard and fled into the night. Haunting phantom was dead.
     Marines removed Agent Brushcuto from Afghanistan. He visited Ground Zero in New York City and burned Osama’s white turban to prevent it from becoming the next Shroud of Turin.
     Anthony personally delivered his trophy. US government archived photographic images, took DNA tests then cryogenically warehoused the skull.
     United States of America officially denied the legendary fable so as not to disturb their War on Terror…….
     President Humphrey snapped back into reality in time to catch Maximilian speaking.
     “May I formally introduce myself, my name is Maximilian Thorton, Chief Executive Officer of NorComp Industry. Last year,our company netted five billion dollars. We appropriated that windfall into a think tank which encouraged groundbreaking research with the goal of ending American dependency on oil energy. We hired the brightest minds in the United States. Scientists who cloned the first human, inventors of cold fusion, whiz kids behind nano-technology, we gathered them all. What they invented will change the destiny of mankind.”
     Maximilian strutted around the hall as he spoke. His booming voice, rugged handsome appearance and imposing physique belied a sage inventor that rivaled J. Robert Oppenheimer. Privately, he maintained an affinity for watching young ladies with animals. The act of bestiality never sexually satisfied him. He merely adored the degradation of women. More degraded, the better.
     Maximilian paced closer to his guests and continued, “This technological breakthrough provides an unlimited energy supply at no cost. Absolutely, positively, free energy. No more oil. No more gas. No more inefficient solar energy. No more unsightly windmills. No more disposal of dangerous nuclear fuel rods. Free energy, with no pollutants and no consequences.”
     He paused, “Pardon my enthusiasm, I have gotten ahead of myself. Allow me to introduce Dr. Eugene Abrams to explain medical nuances of NorComp’s innovation.”
     Maximilian pressed the cell phone intercom, “Dr. Abrams, come in.”
     Anthony opened the screening room door. Dr. Abrams edged inside. His chubby arms clenched charts and graphs to his flabby chest as he made his way to the podium. Buttons holding his white laboratory jacket together seemed ready to fly off at moment’s notice. Stretched elastic kept up his olive green scrubs. His colleagues described him as a wolf in XXXL clothing. Many Nor-Comp technicians considered him a portly man with the head of a genius and body of an empty bird egg…or was it the other way around?
     “Dr. Abrams, share your expertise with these fine gentleman,” said Maximilian as he eased into a leather spectator chair at the screening table. He closed his eyes and imagined Rin Tin Tin with Jennifer Lopez.


DISCLAIMER: IUniverse does not endorse, support, promote or condone any of the thoughts, ideas, or language presented in the novel “America Deceived” by E.A. Blayre III. Read at your own risk.

About the Author

E.A. Blayre III, recipient of the Time Magazine Person of the Year (2006), lives in a fortified bunker, whereabouts unknown, heavily armed, waiting for the next revolution.