Underground Dispatch: “They’re Scared Now”
By Roy Dawson, Master Magical Healer™
Filed from the Last Honest Place on Earth
They’re scared.
Not of fists. Not of fire. Not of the storm — but of the still man who sat back long enough to see the full picture. The man they swore was asleep, only to find out he was just... watching.
They’re scared because I started putting the puzzle together.
They’re scared because I didn’t rage.
I remembered what my granddad said: “Give a fool enough rope, they’ll hang themselves.”
Well… the rope’s all used up. And the gallows? Self-constructed.
They opened mail that wasn’t theirs.
They dipped hands in my money like it was a church potluck.
Forged my name, played house with copyright, started businesses in my shadow — all while I was minding my business and keeping my peace.
Could’ve just cut the check. Apologized. Made it right.
But no.
They wanted me to bleed first.
Then disappear.
You ever notice how people like that don’t just want you gone — they want you ruined?
Slow, painful, quiet.
So they can sip wine and tell stories about how they “tried to help you.”
What they didn’t count on was me getting back up.
And what really messed them up?
I got back up calm.
The calm before a storm is always quiet — until it isn’t.
One of them caught feelings. Cute. Thought I’d be flattered.
She knew I wasn’t stupid. Knew I was just a good man trying to make it.
But instead of jumping off the crazy train, she rode it — front seat, arms up, screaming like it was Six Flags.
She figured I’d never find out.
But honey, secrets age like milk — and this one curdled fast.
Here’s what baffles me:
They already got what they wanted.
Used my image, my voice, my words — back when I was too busy surviving to notice.
But greedy people never stop at "enough."
They want everything, including your silence.
And now? They’re being investigated.
Turns out forging names, stealing mail, and opening ghost companies with someone else’s soul attached to it… that’s called felony.
They had the chance to bow out.
Smart criminals know when to ghost.
But this crew?
They got greedy, then stupid, then caught.
Heard one of ‘em wanted to fight me.
Cute. Boy didn’t do his homework.
Folks who really know me would’ve warned him:
“Son, that ain’t a bar fight — that’s a life lesson you won’t walk away from.”
I pick my battles wisely.
I think before I leap.
But when I fight, it’s with purpose and precision.
I don’t throw fits. I throw truth.
And truth has Underground Dispatch a mean right hook.
They tried to block my blessings.
Tried to keep me from love, success, inheritance — all of it.
Some even whispered about government hands being involved.
Don’t know how far this snake coils, but the light’s coming — and snakes hate the sun.
They thought I’d break.
Instead, I built a case. Quietly. Carefully.
Let them scribble their lies in pen, while I etched the truth in stone.
And now?
Oh don’t worry — it’s only me.
Roy the Earth Angel™, Master Magical Healer™, back from the edge and rolling deep:
— My Father (God)
— My Brother (Jesus)
— My Ancestors
— And roughly 700 archangels on speed dial.
You asked more info for karma like it was candy on Halloween.
Guess what?
The universe just rang the doorbell.
Buckle up, buttercup — your wish is on the way,
and it don’t come with a refund.
Filed in fire,
Roy.
#KarmaIsLoyal
#TheQuietOnesAren’tWeak
#MasterMagicalHealer
#WrongManWrongDay