The Transvestite, The Dealer, and The Chambermaid

“Jesus Christ Frank; what the hell happened to you?”

The large group of friends turned and stared at Frank Slates black and blue face with cut marks, as he started to explain, “Well I…”

“Did you get into a fight?”

“No, I…”

“You walked into a train?”

“Or an industrial sized fan?”

“Th…the power went off abruptly a-as you were going down an escalator?”

“Imaginative Jack, but no.”

“I have a guess!”

“Calm down, Rizzo!”

“I know what happened,” said the silhouette of a leather capped young man, standing confidently with one foot on The Rock, and lighting a Tijuana Small cigar, looking away, out onto the Brandywine River. “You paid a hooker for some rough sex. She tied you up to the bed, pulled your shirt up, your pants down, then circled the bed like a shark while pounding your body with a soap on a rope. The soap finally broke off and flew across the room; she sat on top of your ankles and went down for a while, bringing you to the brink of orgasm.”

“So far, you’re pretty close.”

“She stopped, stared at you, and laughed sadistically. You wanted to come but you were tied up and there was nothing you could do. She sat on your stomach and slapped you silly on either side of the face with rough open hands. It was then it hit you just how very strong she was for a woman. Then, as if confirming your anxious suspicion, she stood up and pulled her pants down, revealing the largest cock you’d ever seen, and dangled it tauntingly above your head.”

“Ahh, no……that didn’t happen.”

“Yes it did, and furthermore, you still wanted to come; you didn’t care how. So you focused only on her…his…..its…long beautiful blonde hair and smooth tan complexion, an angel from the neck up. You were mesmerized by its beauty to the point where you didn’t even mind the cock now jarrming in and out of your mouth. That’s right, you sucked the monstrosity in total bewildering admiration, but you were not sure why.”

“I’m not sure why you’re saying all this.”

“Maybe it was the irresistible cleavage, the smooth hairless legs and firm buttocks, or, perhaps it was just about it all being the largest cock you had ever seen, and you didn’t mind…didn’t mind at all…She….it…did the work for you as it stood on the bed with its hands on its sides thrusting its pelvis, shoving itself in and out of your mouth as the back of your head hit the wall violently, over and over and over again until the thing laughed hysterically and came on your face.”


“Yes, just like that …………… were confused…”

“You’re confused; you know that?”

“…humiliated. He ….she… up to leave, but you were angry, and, finally managing to break free of the Hoover vacuum belts that had you bound to the bed, you lunged at it with intent to kill…her…him…it….whatever….but you forgot that your pants were still on, down by your ankles at this point, and you tripped and fell, smashing your head through the glass coffee table.”

“Now that part really happened, sort of.”

“Eeeww. Frank, you’re disgusting.”

“You lay on the floor helpless, as the thing looked down on you in seductive victory.” Mahdakis took a drag off his Tijuana. “Then it got weird.”


(inhale-exhale) “Here we go.”

“The beautiful transvestite walked over to the bed-stand and, with all its brute strength, ripped the clock radio out of the wall and tore the cord out from the insides of the device. It then began to whip you with the electrical cord, laughing sardonically as it pulled out a copy of Gideon’s’ Bible and recited passages from Leviticus 18. It finally dawned on you that coming here was probably a bad idea……You defecated yourself and began crying for your mother, and then… a phantom, she exited the room, presumably leaving you for dead…or worse………. alone…to die in your own excrement, blood, and semen.”

“None of that ever happened! This isn’t true,” Frank pleaded for a moment of sanity.

“Then…..” the silhouetted figure continued.

“There’s even more?” –Bobble-bobble-bobble “Someone shut him the fuck up, will ya.”

“The chamber maid came in.”

“Now we’re talkin’. Ha-ha.”

“Goiter, shut up and stop rubbing your palms together,” a voice said. “That’s very disturbing.”

“Shut up! I wanna hear how it ends.”

“….But it wasn’t really a chamber maid. It was an FBI agent who had been working undercover as a chamber maid for the better part of six months, trying to bust up a heroin ring, headed by the owner of the hotel. Frank wasn’t part of the plan, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I wasn’t at any place at any time. Where you getting’ all this from?”

“….And the FBI agent, well, he was just being a chamber maid.”


“Yes…he was undercover as a she, and he saw you lying there, Frank; bleeding and helpless. But there was no time. The agent had just been made by one of the dealers. He needed to get out of the building…..and fast! So he swapped clothes with you, taking his wig off his head and putting it on yours, then he boogied out of the room, and ultimately, the building.”

“Is that it?”



“The dealer busted into the room and saw you lying on the floor in a wig and a chamber maid outfit and smashed the butt end of his rifle against your ear before realizing that he had the wrong cross-dresser……

“I’m not a cross-dresser.”

“….But, being one to always seize the moment, the drug dealer eagerly unbuttoned his pants. He pulled out his…….”

“Alright….we get it!”

“Fuckin’ aye, dude. Take a valium.”

“And THAT is what happened to Frank.” Mahdakis puffed on his cigar.

“That was my guess,” Rizzo said, “I was going to say the same thing.”


© 2012 Mark Rogers

Crimes Seen Front Cover

 Crimes Seen

(Book II)


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



Pumpkinhead’s Theory of Anti-Prosperity

Pumpkinhead spun around at the foot of the bed to face his older brother, Mahdakis, “So here’s how it works; every Friday at the end of the month, you go up to NYU.”
“The one in New York?”
“The same.”
“But what if the last day of the month doesn’t fall on a Friday?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just go on the last Friday of every month!”
“How long are you going to be locked in this asylum?”
“Not much longer so you’ll probably only be doing this one time. But you gotta unload the shit for me.”
“You’ll go to the Rubin dorm or Rubin Hall; something like that. It’s on Fifth Ave. Ask for Black Tom. He knows to look out for you. He’s really cool and mellow.”
“And black?”
“And black. Now, he’s gonna sell you the shit. You’re going to buy a pound of bud. Make sure it’s good bud and not shake. Black Tom won’t jerk you around and he usually gets nice stuff, but just make sure.”
“What if it’s not?”
“Not bud? Then don’t buy.”
“Alright. So far so good.”
“You’ll need about twelve hundred dollars.”
“Say what? Where the fuck am I going to get that kind of money?”
“Jesus Christ! Calm the fuck down, man. Don’t you have a job or something?”
“Yeah, I got a job, but my money’s pretty much tied up.”
“Well un-fuckin’ tie it because you have to understand that while twelve-hundred may sound like a lot, you’ll be selling ounces at two-hundred dollars!”
“So wait…..a pound, right?
“And there’s …uh….sixteen ounces in a pound?”
“Last time I checked.”
“So that’s thirty-two hundred dollars?”
“Yeah man, like a two-thousand dollar profit if you don’t use any yourself. You have the capacity to make even more by selling it in small nickel and dime quantities.”
“You must be rolling in the dough by now.”
“Not really man, I got the car payments and the insurance…”
“That’s it though. You got nothing else. Where’s all your money?”
“It’s rough man because we spend twelve or fifteen hundred on a pound sometimes and then end up selling just about the same amount. We break even more times than not.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. You should be making an extra two thousand or so off each deal.”
“Right. But then we need to set aside twelve more for the next buy.”
“So you should have two thousand in your hand.”
“Black Tom and I smoke a lot of it.”
“You smoke all your profits?”
Mahdakis stood staring at his brother in disbelief, “What’s the matter with you, man? You were always so good with money.”
“I am good with money. I’m just not good with pot.”
“Hey man, stop raggin’ on me dude. It pays for itself and the gas to get to and from places, man.”
“So you and Black Tom smoke a half pound in a month? You smoke half your investment?”
“What if you bought twice as much? Two pounds instead of one?”
“What good would that do?”
“Then you’d be able to have another pound and a half while still having the other half pound for recreation.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because it’s two pounds instead of one.”
“But we smoke up half of it.”
“Half of two pounds is one pound. We’d be smoking an entire pound instead of just half.”
“But you wouldn’t have to!”
“Sure we would!”
“Because we smoke half. That’s how it goes!”
“But don’t smoke half!”
“But that’s what we do! You said so yourself. If we didn’t smoke half then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. All buying two pounds is gonna do is create more for us to smoke and generate more of a profit loss!”

 © 2013  Mark Rogers

Benevolence & Betrayal (Book III)


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

Close Encounters Of An Absurd Kind

“Okay, okay…sit down.” As Pumpkinhead sat down at a corner table in the coffee shop, Captain H threw his sandwich on the plastic tray and continued, “How do I communicate with the little green men?”
“Little green men?”
“Hey dude, did Jezebel sell you some of that liquid acid? That’s to be taken in small doses, you know. I hope you didn’t slurp that down.”
“Don’t be coy.”
“Coy?” Pumpkinhead picked at his hash browns. “You sure you mean coy?”
“Yeah I mean coy; you know like a wise-ass.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“A wise-ass is just a wise-ass. If you’re coy, then you’re a bashful, or a shy wise-ass.”
“But you’re still a wise-ass!”
“Only if you use that particular adjective in there, otherwise you’re just a demure person.”
“Stupid….a stupid person. Like, ‘that guy skipping across the street is acting a bit demurely’.”
“Because he’s demure, he’s stupid?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Being demure has nothing to do with stupidity. Did we go to school in the same country?”


Continue reading

Ride The Snake

Waking to the fuzzy feel of the rapidly fraying silk sheets, her naked curvaceous body intertwined with his and, and more importantly, to the comforting knowledge that he was safe. Safe in her arms; cocooned within a calming sense of belonging, purpose, want, and need; the beat of his heart, once again accompanied with a melody. He was with his true love.

But with all that, came the familiar air of uncertainty. The uncertainty of what she was thinking (and why), or scheming to do next (and when), and then, how long this euphoria would last. But it was his choice, and he knew the plausible consequences. He knew he’d forfeited all control the moment he stepped towards her; yet he stepped anyway. The serpent that was their twisted, masochistic passion for one another had reawakened itself and was cotton-mouthed; thirsty for new blood. And in its unyielding quest to quench the thirst, would lead them both down a long spiraling ride of emotional anguish and sexual nirvana, as only a serpent can be held accountable. Continue reading