Volume 4

Remember when we had no deadlines, no responsibilities, no self-respect, no goals, and no motivation to execute any of them even if we did?

Back then things were simpler and more confused

If you remember (or forgot) the 80’s, then you’ll appreciate some of this. Or, if you are curious WHAT REALLY  went on in that time, this is not a bad place to start.

The latest installment of the series, FREE on Kindle unlimited……

© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™

Another Piece Of Meat

Tony and Mahdakis sat on the front porch stoop of Tony’s female-birth-giver’s new home, enjoying a cigarette as she and her new companion, Radcliffe, scurried about inside preparing the next course for Thanksgiving dinner. Mahdakis didn’t know that’s what they were doing in there. He thought dinner was over and that perhaps they were washing up or preparing dessert. After all, the six of them had already indulged in appetizers such as ricotta stuffed mushrooms, fried zucchini, marinated mozzarella balls, and antipasto salad. Thereafter, Mahdakis and Nicki were already stuffed and barely managed to get through what they assumed was the main course, baked eggplant lasagna with an asparagus feta salad, immediately followed by a mandatory helping of freshly sliced roast beef and a side of roasted garlic and rosemary potatoes. But this was the Italian way. Mahdakis and Nicki were of the white mutt nationality and knew not of such unabashed gluttony. They also had not grasped the concept of sampling only a bite or two of this and that instead of devouring everything in front of them as rapidly as possible.

It was growing dark outside; the clocks had been turned back. Light from the television in the empty living room smacked enticingly up against the glass windows every once in a while, reminding those outside that there was a game on. Dallas was playing the Vikings. Nicki Tater and Tony’s brother, Pedro Ravioli, took a drive to get some more beer and some smokes. Pedro was clean-shaven with short black hair and was built like a Sneetch, but without the star on his round belly. “Quite a dinner ma’s rustling up in there, huh?” Tony Ravioli said. “You better have some more room in there.”

“Oh man, I don’t know about that. Hey dude, what the hell happened last Saturday night? Why was Polly crying?”

Tony shook his head in bewilderment. “Dude, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I was right outside your bedroom door with Sally, about to come you know.”

“You were; what about me?”

“Dude, I was holding Sally up by her ankles and…..”

“Spare me the visual, will ya? I think I saw anyway. She was upside down, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah! You like that move?”

“Not for me, no. But hey, if sucking on an ugly chick’s mound of meat is your thing, well then God bless. I mean, someone’s gotta do it, right? And it sure the hell ain’t gonna be me.”

“I had to finish myself off, dude. Thanks a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I………What? Where?……Where the fuck did you finish yourself off?!”

“Well I don’t know exactly; it was dark. But I guess somewhere on the couch.”

“The couch? You blew your fuckin’ load on my couch?”

“Maybe it hit the carpet instead. Like I said, it was a little dark and I couldn’t see where it went.”

“So that’s your thing? You just blow loads all over people’s houses whenever you feel like it?”

“I had to! I heard that if you’re worked up that much and don’t let yourself come, you can get blue balls or something.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale. Besides, this whole fiasco is your entire fault anyway.”

“How is it my fault?”

“Hey, you pulled me aside, after you and Sally finally arrived, and told me that Polly takes it in the ass.”

“That’s what Sally said.”

“Well guess what, she wasn’t taking it that night!”

“You tried that move on the first date?”

“I didn’t try anything, I did it! She gave me great head, so I flipped her over and shoved it in, thinking she was really going to dig this.”

“Who digs that?”

“Polly! That’s what you said! You said Polly likes getting fucked in the ass!”

“She hates getting fucked in the ass; that’s what I said.”

“No you fuckin’ didn’t, Mahdakis! You pulled me aside and said, ‘Psst; hey, Polly takes it up the ass.’”

“Right, but I didn’t say she liked it! She can’t stand it, actually!”

“That is some information I could have used!”

“Hey!” The front door opened and a middle-aged man with glasses and a balding scalp stepped outside. “It’s getting a little loud out here don’t you think fellas?”

“Sorry Radcliffe.”


“Your mother said she will be serving in about twenty minutes, okay? So be inside. Where’s your brother and Nicki?”

“I don’t know; good question.”

“Well let’s find them or your mother will have a fit.”

Radcliffe went back inside to give the television its much-desired attention, as Tony put his cigarette butt out on the cement walkway and looked away from his friend. “Where the hell is Pedro and Nicki? We need to eat soon.”

“That’s okay, man. I’m gonna pass on dessert. No offense but I’m not a sweets guy myself. Nicki said she was stuffed, too.”

“Dessert? What the fuck’s the matter with you? My birth-giver slaved all day, you can’t leave now!”

“Fine. What is for dessert anyway?”

“Homemade tiramisu and fresh cannolis I think, but that isn’t the point! Skip dessert if you want, but we’re serving the main course now!”

“Main course? What the fuck are you talking about? We just had pasta and beef!”

“I’m talking about the turkey with fennel sausage stuffing!”

“The what?”

“And the fish! We haven’t had the turkey yet. You can’t leave, motherfucker!”


“With homemade bruschetta!”

“Jesus Christ. How am I supposed to eat all that?”

“Just eat a little! She worked hard all day and last night!”

“Fuck man.”

Nicki and Pedro pulled up in the car as the door to the house opened once again and Radcliffe stepped out. “Oh okay, everyone’s here; just in time. Good, now we can eat.”

“Awesome!” Pedro yelled, springing like a rocket out of the passenger’s seat. “That’s what I call timing.” As Pedro got to the porch he smiled at Mahdakis and said, “You coming in, or are you just gonna stay there looking stupid.”

Mahdakis looked at Nicki, who was still in the driver’s seat, and mouthed the words, ‘There’s more food’.

She stared helplessly back at him, wiping her nose then mouthing the words ‘Are you kidding?’

He shook his head ‘no’ and took a step towards her car.

“I have to get back home,” she finally said announced out the window. “This is my Mom’s car and she needs it back. Mahdakis, if you want a ride, come now!”

Mahdakis felt six very disapproving eyes staring at him on the porch and could not look at any of them. He took another step towards the car and simply said, “Sorry, I have to split, too.” Then picking up his pace towards the car yelled back. “Thanks for everything. Tell your birth-giver that what I did eat was the best I’ve ever had. Awesome!” He jumped in the car as Nicki quickly put it in gear, “See you tomorrow!”

Nicki made a U-turn at the end of the dead end road and sped out as if they had just robbed a bank. “Where to Mahdakis, my love?”

“Anywhere…Southpoint. I don’t care; just get me away from all this food. These people are nuts!”

“No shit man, how can people eat like that?”

“And there were only six of us. What the hell?”

“Crazy,” Nicki said sniffling and wiping her nose again.

“So what the hell took you and Pedro so long?”

“Oh, damnedest thing; I had to gobble on his cock awhile in exchange for a bag of coke and he couldn’t come. Ha-ha-ha…Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Mahdakis looked at her face. She was smiling, probably trying to instigate him. He wasn’t going to bite. Even Nicki had more scruples than to mess around on her boyfriend right under his nose with the brother of her former boyfriend, right under his nose. “Funny,” is all he said.

“Ha-ha-ha….Ha-ha-ha-ha! Okay, Southpoint it is. Let’s see if Curly and Pumpkinhead are around since we’re driving right by.”


The truth of the matter was, Nicki hadn’t been joking about the Pedro Ravioli thing, and as a matter of fact, had begun dating him behind Mahdakis’s back, so she would tell him two decades later……“Ha-ha-ha…Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™

Chubby Chaser

“Yo dude, check it out.” Nigel turned the dome light on in the car, pulled a picture of out of his pocket, and handed it to Mahdakis. It was a photo of a big-titted sperm dumpster with nothing on but a pair of panties, her hands placed strategically over her bare breasts “This bitch is hot, huh?”

“Mm.” Mahdakis shook his head unimpressed. “Yeah, man a real piece of ass, dude.”

“Dude, she’s fuckin gorgeous! I fucked her last weekend. I took that picture!” Nigel was lying about taking the picture. “You can get chicks like this too!”

“Watch the road, will ya?”

“Got it.” Nigel grabbed the steering wheel with both hands again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

“C’mon, let’s get real for a moment. That thing? Back there? Nicki? That’s what you like?” Nigel shook his head in confusion. “You can do better you know.”


“So you’re a chubby-chaser, huh? What’s up with that, anyway?” Nigel made a left-hand turn without signaling and cut off an unsuspecting car that blared its horn.

“She isn’t fat!”

“She is. She’s humongous, dude.”

“Her tits are humongous; it’s an illusion….sort of.”

“No sort ofs about it, you’re doin’ a……..dude you got ketchup all over your mouth.”

“But I didn’t eat anything…oh shit!” Mahdakis grabbed hold of the rearview mirror and studied the red substance that was all over his chin and inside his mouth. “Ahh, sick man.” He opened the window and started spitting profusely.

“What’s the matter dude? Are you alright?”

“It’s blood man, it’s blood, not ketchup!”

“Where are you bleeding from? Are you gonna be alright?”

“It’s not my blood, man. It was on Nicki’s face.”

“Ah, sick!” Nigel also started spitting profusely out the window for some reason. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing.  She was just fine. I think she got it somewhere else.” Mahdakis continued his spitting and wiping off his face with the bottom of his T-shirt.

“It’s someone else’s blood?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“On her face?”

“I’m almost positive.”

“Positive? Positive for AIDS is what you’re going to be if you keep hanging around these people.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Fuckin aye. See what I mean? You need to date nice hot chicks like this, in the picture. I guarantee she wouldn’t be seen out in public with aids-infected bloodstains all over her face.”

“Maybe not on her face.”

“Dude….whatever….the point is, you’re hangin’ with a demented crowd and stickin’ it to a fat chick who’s destined for AIDS. You wear a condom at least, I hope.”

“Nah man, I hate those things.”



Original Artwork: Fabian Corona

© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™



Blue Morning, Blue Day


“God is an evil, demented, son of a bitch!”

“Oh my.”

“And I’ll tell you why Robin, you wanna know why?”

“Of course I do; who wouldn’t?……..But I’m afraid to ask.”

“I’ll ask.”

“Okay Fred, go ahead. Ask.”

“Fine. Howard, why, as you so gracefully put it, is God an evil, demented son of a Bitch?”

“Because he gave me the smallest penis on the planet!”

“Aaahhh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Oh, come on, you have to be exaggerating.”

“Robin….when I’m naked, it looks as though I have two belly buttons.”

“I think God compensated for it though with that nose. Hee-hee-hee-hee!”

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh jokeman, laugh away; Laugh while your wife is having sex with black men on the front lawn, in broad daylight.”

“Hey, I didn’t write that joke! Fred handed that to me. Hee-hee-hee-hee! I wish I did, though. Hee-hee-hee-hee!”

“I knew I didn’t want to ask.”

 The clock radio, sitting on the soiled shag-carpeted floor, blares out the syndicated morning radio show on WYSP. A listless right arm falls on top of it slamming the button down. The hand attached to the arm fumbles about and finds a half empty can of Pabst Blue Ribbon leaning against the radiator. Mahdakis takes a pungent gulp and opens his eyes, acknowledging the dawn of another hapless, miserable day on this wretched, grey planet.

It is past eight o’clock on a Wednesday morning. The birth-givers and his younger brother, Pumpkinhead, have long gone to work…as most responsible adults have.

Our hero stumbles downstairs groggily, and turns the TV on as he begins to fix breakfast, a vegetable omelet with an abundance of cheese; enough so to scorch the frying pan beyond color recognition. The cartoon, Inspector Gadget is on; he watches with mild curiosity as he seats himself at the lonely cedar kitchen table wondering if anyone ever thought of making a porno version of Gadget, “Go, go gadget penis!” But his happiness is quickly subsided, as he is once again smacked in the heart with reality, and reminded that for the first time in four years, he is with the absence of true love in his life. For whatever reason, he liked being in love and having a girlfriend. Was it insecurity, or just an overwhelming need to possess another person’s affections? It was good that Jezebel was out of his life. But now he had no one else to blame for his problems…and he hated that.

Lying on the table, to the right of where he is eating, is a yellow note pad with writing on it. It is a song that he had started the day before yesterday. There are only four lines written on it:


‘Lovers may go but new ones will show

As the faces change and the years go by.

But I’m too weak to smile

And I’m too strong to cry…’


He gives pause as he considers adding another line. In the background he hears the desperate plea of a foiled bank robber being captured by Inspector Gadget, who had used his Gadget legs to extend up into the air another twenty feet, thus allowing him to walk over traffic. Mahdakis thinks for a moment how that would really come in handy…as long as everyone else didn’t have the same capability. Because then, you’d have the same problem with traffic congestion, but just twenty feet higher above the ground.

The twenty-year-old peels a pen up off the floor. The pen is covered in some unidentifiable goo (most likely something Pumpkinhead spilled on it last night while making dinner for himself at one in the morning while stoned off his ass). Mahdakis adds six more lines to the would-be song:


‘As destiny pulls me away

Towards a much more cloudy day

And there’s nothing more to say…

 ..But to face the truth and realize

That it’s time to break these emotional ties

That keep me locked up behind cold eyes.’



His work was done for the day. Still chewing his food, he gets up from the table, walks to the kitchen and dumps the plate into the sink. ‘Someone will clean this up, they always do. Every day I put dirty plates in here and the next day they’re gone.’ He turns off the TV and heads upstairs to rub one out and take a shower.

It is almost ten o’clock by the time he is dressed.


Two hours killed without too much thinking. But how to destroy the rest of the day? His birth-givers told him he’d best find a job soon…..‘or else’. He didn’t know what ‘or else’ meant, but it didn’t sound promising. He had come to appreciate the comforts of a real home (warmth, electricity, his own room, a toilet), and was in no hurry to return to the lifestyle of living under bridges, in friends’ cars, and in laundry mats as he had done with Carl and Floyd only a year ago. He walked to his upstairs bedroom window and stared outside, deep in thought, trying to remember the events of the night before……

Photo: “I have got a crush on you,” by Tor Alden
Art: “The Burnouts” by Liz Aikler

© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™


New Release!

My latest installment of the series; If you remember (or forgot) the 80’s, then you’ll appreciate some of this.

Or, if you are curious WHAT REALLY went on in that time, this is not a bad place to start.

And best of all, it’s FREE on Kindle Unlimited for a few more weeks.

© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in PurgatoryParadise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)

Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™

To Suck or Not To Suck

Sham Rock walked up to Pumpkinhead and studied him only an inch away from his face, feeling Pumpkinhead’s face with his hands like a blind man reading brail, as if Pumpkinhead were an inanimate object or a painting being observed by an artist. “What’s the matter with you, Pumpkinhead? You look spaced out.”

“Fuckin’ high on angel dust, bro. I’m buggin’.”

“You gotta be careful messin’ around with that stuff. It’ll kill ya you know.”

“Yeah man, I can dig it,” was all Pumpkinhead could say.

“Where’s Nicki? Why didn’t she give you guys a ride?”

“She threw us out of the car after Mahdakis over here called here a fat little cocksucker.”

“What’s wrong with being a cocksucker?”


“Nicki, I’m talking about. Why would she be upset with being called a cocksucker?” Sham Rock asked.

“Yeah, what’s her problem anyway?” said Rizzo. “I love it when people call me a cocksucker. Especially when it’s a complete stranger driving by and I’m standing on the side of the road with a large group of friends……Or better yet, family members.”

“Family members call you cocksucker?”

“That’s not right.”

“Oh it’s fine. They do it all the time! In fact, that’s how they address my birthday cards. ‘So, you’re one year older….Happy Birthday Cocksucker’.

Ignoring Rizzo’s sarcasm, Dakota suggested, “Maybe it was because you called her a fat cocksucker.”

“Girls don’t like being called fat,” said Kim.

“Yeah…that’s a real sticking point.”

“Cocksucker’s one thing,” Kim lectured on, “but to call a woman fat…well that’s just asking for a beating.”

Ignoring them all, Sham Rock continued, “But being called a cocksucker only means that she’s useful and well liked.”

“It’s derogatory, man.”

“Derogatory shmogatory. Isn’t sucking someone’s dick a nice thing?”

“Sure is,” Tony Ravioli said, bobbling his head. Bobble-bobble-bobble- “Why, you feel like being nice right about now?”

“You’re a wise-ass too, Tony. You and Rizzo are made for each other.”

“And it’s good for the environment,” Pumpkinhead said.

“And fun for the whole family!”

“That’s disgusting. What’s the matter with you anyway, Rizzo? And Sham, why the fuck are you asking this?”

“Contemplating a career change?”

“Shut the fuck up, Bobby. You too, Riz.” Sham Rock turned and studied Mahdakis. “And I don’t know what the hell you’re thinkin’ about over there, but I don’t like that grin on your face. Somethin’ tells me I should bust your head wide open right now.”

“But then you’ll never know.”

“Never know what?”

“What I was thinking.”

“Ah-ha! So you were thinking!”

Mahdakis took a puff off his Tijuana Small cigar. “It happens.”

“Sometimes.” –Bobble-bobble-bobble. Tony observed Mahdakis’ eyes squinting as he took the thin cigar out of his mouth. They had been together for too many years for Tony not to recognize that he was about to go into one of his lame, self-serving comedy routines. Tony also knew it a signal for him to step into sidekick mode.

Mahdakis said, “Most likely, a long time ago, it was someone whose last name was cocksucker.”

“Someone who lived in a small village…” -Bobble-bobble-bobble

“Marseille, France, perhaps.”

“…or just outside of…”

“…where she was considered a…”

“…or he…”

“…or he was considered a cheat or a liar.”

“Or someone who did the job only half way.”

“Which then of course begs to ask the question, which came first, the cock or the cocksucker?”

“The cock came first. The cock always comes first.”

Dakota broke their routine and said solemnly, “I always thought it was because they tease you by giving you oral until you’re hard and then leave, never finishing you off, or letting you fuck them. And that’s why people hate cocksuckers.”


“Well sure, then there’s that.”

“Makes sense to me.”


“Hey, what would life be like if we greeted each other like dogs?”

“We probably wouldn’t French kiss that much.”

“Do dogs give oral?”

“Not to other dogs.”

“So who do they give it to?”



“Yeah, I seen that in a movie or two once,” said Frank.

“Jesus, what a fuckin’ perv you are, man,” Polly laughed.

“How could you have seen it once if you saw it in two different movies?”

“Maybe it was the same scene.”

“Doesn’t matter. He still would’ve seen it twice.”

“What the fuck kind of movies are you renting, Frank?”

“Regular kinds.”

“Regular, my ass.”

Shake-shake-shake, (Inhale-exhale) “I got shit loads of those kinds of movies, Frank….a lot of cool imports from Germany and whatnot.” (Inhale-exhale) “Grandmas and black dudes, dominate fat chicks with submissive oriental business men, hot teens in locker rooms, gay bikers on acid, famous athletes who worship feet while masturbating, big-titted blondes with horses, midgets who eat shit,” (inhale) “you name it. I’m watching one at home right now called Anal in the Antarctic. It’s about an Eskimo love triangle.” (exhale) “If you ever wanna borrow something, just let me know.”

© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™



Paradise In Purgatory

Remember when we had no deadlines, no responsibilities, no self-respect, no goals, and no motivation to execute any of them even if we did,?

Ah……back then things were simpler and more confused….


© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™


The Passenger….

The dark, unassuming vehicle pulled over to the side of the highway. The driver leaned over and rolled the passenger window down. “Where you headed?”

“That way,” Goiter said, pointing north without making eye contact.

“That way? Huh, what a coincidence, I’m going that way. Get in.”

The man behind the wheel was Curtis Bolio, originally from Ohio. He was a decent looking, clean-cut white man in his late thirties or possibly mid-forties. It was hard to tell because he was a gym enthusiast and took extremely good care of his body. Curtis had a wife and kids back in Cincinnati, but they weren’t missing him. They weren’t missing him because they were dead; dead because he killed them after raping his son’s buddy in the middle of the night during a sleepover and then stabbing his wife and son to death when they discovered what he had done. It was of no consequence to Curtis Bolio however. He had done this before when he was much younger, to another young lad long before he was married…..before the days of the institution…..and he was eager to do it again….maybe with Goiter, maybe not. Goiter was a bit older than his usual prey, but perhaps he would be a willing participant in gratifying his needs so that Curtis would not have to kill him. He didn’t look forward to the killing aspect of it all, but sometimes it was a necessity in order to keep him out of jail. He did enjoy the raping however; he loved the way they screamed and squirmed and tried to fight back. It aroused him tremendously. In his mind, it was the same tough love that his father had enforced upon him when he was younger; enforced so Curtis would grow up and be tough. Tough enough anyway to hold down a young boy while riding his backside. What an absolutely delicious treat he thought it was, to be rewarded with such a well-deserved pleasure after a usually well-fought battle. The battle of course being the boy’s struggle to get away. And it was the struggle that made it all such great fun; It was the struggle that gave Curtis Bolio the rush of exhilaration he so desired on a daily basis. But how nice it would be if he could just find someone to play the rape game with him on a regular basis so he wouldn’t have to go through the killing process afterward. Curtis Bolio had boys like that but he grew tired of them after a while and had to ‘set them free’. “So what do you say we both go that way together?” he smiled and looked over at Goiter.

“Wherever. I don’t care. Just get me out of here.”

“Going through a bad spell?” The man looked over at Goiter and eyeballed his crotch, raising his eyebrows happily as he did. “Growing up isn’t easy, especially when you’re different than everyone else. And that’s the core of it all, isn’t it? You’re different and they don’t understand how to play with you; right?”

“Something like that,” Goiter nodded his head. “How’d you know?”

“It takes one to know one.”

“Know one what?”

Ignoring his question, the man continued, “But every once in a while we get sent a reminder from God that….you believe in God, don’t you?”

“Sure…why not? Sounds good.”

“No why nots about it. He’s here……and he’s queer.”

“Ha-ha-ha….Huh? Say what?’

“Never mind.”

“You were saying something before though.”

“Right…every once in a while God drops us little reminders to let us know that we’re not alone in our suffering. That there are others who share similar pains and doubts about who we really are and where we’re going. If nothing else, it’s comforting to know that we are never alone in our loneliness.”

“That’s deep. I know a guy in Norford who talks like that.”


“He’s a poet…or a rock musician….or something. Ha! Actually, right now he’s just a drunk. Ha-ha-ha-ha.”

“You like to laugh. That’s good; it’s good to have a sense of humor. Hold on to it, you’ll need it.”

“How so?”

“Hmm.” The man once again ignored his question and stared at the highway ahead, pretending to be thinking long and hard. “You wanna play a game?”

“A game? Hey man, I ain’t funny like that.”

“Oh I assure you this isn’t funny.”

“Oh okay; alright, lay it on me then.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™


Hello, Yellow Brick Road

While they were only twenty, they felt like, and came off like, thirty-five year olds. They felt they had already lived a full life, and while some felt that the time had come to get serious, most were too afraid to let go and leave sight of the youth that hard living had stolen from them. They were determined to take it back, or hold on to, the insanity that was now their life so that the phantom feelings of it would never fade.

And without noticing, he had let a very significant door in his life slam shut behind him while unconsciously stumbling through another; the door behind him sealing off the negative background noise that for so many years had plagued his heart terribly. The door behind him also shutting out expired friendships and fruitless romantic endeavors. More remarkably, escaping such a life unscathed, a life that had been riddled with hostility, crime, deceit, betrayal, and over all ill fate. This was the wrong place for him to be. Either he had fooled himself into thinking he was something he was not, or he had simply outgrown whatever he was. Perhaps his senses were warning him to change course, or maybe he was just finally beginning to listen to them……..


© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™


EZ Come, EZ Go….

Two weeks into the rehearsals, Nigel made an announcement following the ending of a song, “Dudes.” He made sure to have everyone’s attention. “Guess what?  I got us a real cool second guitar player. His name’s Mike; I met him at Avenues over the weekend.” Avenues was a popular night club in Philadelphia where all the best F.A.G.G. Metal bands played. If you were playing Avenues, then you had arrived. More importantly, Avenues was where you went to get laid by the anorexic F.A.G.G. Metal sperm dumpsters with pancake makeup, hair teased to the moon, and boobs sticking out like rockets. How could a growing boy resist all that? “What do you think? You wanna try him out?”

“I guess.”

“Have you heard him play?”

“Yeah, how do you know he’s any good?”

“Dudes.” Nigel made a cutting motion with his hand onto his lower back, “he’s got hair down to here!”


It was true; Mike did have hair down to ‘here’, and looked like a fine piece of ass from behind. That is to say, he looked like a chick….but with a dick, as did many of these hardcore F.A.G.G.’s. But hey, it’s what the girls of that time were in to; squatting on mirrors with a dildo. (Think about it awhile)

Mike was indeed all of that and a horrible guitar player to boot. After one try out, in which he couldn’t follow the most basic of progressions or even stay in tune, he was gone. And as Mike pulled out of the driveway never to return again, Nigel said. “I don’t know what happened, he looked so cool.”


© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™



….And The Seed is Planted

Mahdakis got off the bed and walked towards the small refrigerator to get himself another beer. As he did, he spotted a record in Nicki’s box of personal items. It was a F.A.G.G. Metal album by the biggest F.A.G.G. Metal band in the world, Penis Poison. This album would be their Opus Magnum and, much to the chagrin of Mahdakis, one of the bestselling albums of the decade. It was called, ‘Look What the Cat Did on the Rug’. He examined it further, “Man, these dudes look just like chicks. In fact, I’d probably have sex with the bass player.”

Nicki laughed, “It’s a great album. You know half those songs, too.”

“I do?” He looked at the unfamiliar titles.

“You should. They’re on the radio all the time.”

“Oh.” he put the album back, “I don’t listen to that thing.”

“Well you should. You are a musician after all.” Nicki chuckled and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “Not all F.A.G.G. Metal is bad ya know. Those guys are really quite good and put on a great live show.”

“So what?”

“So what. Listen to you. Why don’t you try something before you shit all over it?”

“Whatever.” Mahdakis browsed over her personal items again.“What are these?” He picked up a pile of notebooks.

“Don’t touch those! Please put those down,” she said, buttoning up her blouse, her tits flopping all about as she did.

“Sorry. Are they personal?”

“Are they personal? That’s my box of personal items. What do you think? Everything in there is personal, stupid.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up, and leave those alone.”

“Okay. Sorry.” he said, moving away from the box.

“I’m sorry. It’s not really that big a deal; it’s just a little project I thought I might start someday, but it’s incomplete and wouldn’t make sense to anyone. So, I don’t want anyone to see it until I’m done……whenever that is.”

“What kind of project is it?”

“I write, baby. Those are my journals….sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“They’re stories….about us.”

“You and me?”

“You, me, Tony, Floyd, Rad…everyone we know…even Jez is in there.”

“Like a documentary chronicling our moves?”

“Sort of, but not really because some of the stories are real but involve people who were never a part of that story, and some stories I made up but include real people in them. Either way, all of the stories go nowhere and are just meant as a chuckle.”

“So there’s no plot; the stories reflect the truth of our real lives.”

“Ha! I guess so.”

“What if you make a plot by demonstrating in these stories how our lives have no meaning to their existence?”


“The plot to the story then becomes that there is no plot to the story.”

“That’s genius!”

“I have my moments…but why is someone going to want to read these stories?”

“I don’t know…to laugh…feel better about themselves?”

“Nice. Maybe you should thread these stories together and make a real book out of them.”

“I don’t know if I have the patience for that. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to write a novel?”

“Not a clue; I don’t even read now that school’s out. But putting a book together can’t be that difficult. It’s just paper and stuff.”

“Ha-ha-ha…Ha-ha-ha-ha! You’re an idiot you know that?”

“I could do it.”

“Yeah right; I’d like to see you try.”

“Fine,” Mahdakis said, lighting another cigar indifferently. “You know, one problem is that few of our friends read; whether it be because they can’t or because they haven’t got the attention span.”

“I know.”

“So who’s the target audience?”

“I don’t know!” she said, feeling berated by his relentless questioning. “It’s just something fun that I like doing. I probably won’t ever release them. Fuckin’ aye. Leave it alone. Let’s move on.”

“Fine.” But he couldn’t leave well enough alone, and said, “So why bother starting something if you have doubts about following through?”

“Hey asshole, you have your dreams, I have mine. Is that okay with you?”

“Okay.” Mahdakis gave her project consideration. “What will you call it? The book or the short stories? You have a name for it yet?”

“I don’t know.” Nicki paused and shook her head dubiously. Her face flushed. “The Burnouts…..or some shit like that.”

“The Burnouts? What the fuck kind of dumbass name is that?”

“It’s just preliminary, fuck-head! God, why are you being such a dick?”

“Because it’s a stupid title that implies the author is most likely just as stupid, which must mean that the story or stories are ten times as stupid.”

“So? It’s about burnouts; it’s supposed to be stupid.”


© 2016 Mark Rogers

Book Cover for Paradise in Purgatory

Paradise In Purgatory

(Vol. IV)


Click here for more inane drivel and lascivious behavior – brought to you exclusively by The B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Chronicles™