Dr. W. A. Frost's Ides of Revolution

  Jack couldn’t go back to prison. He couldn’t take another day incarcerated let alone 25 to life. So he shot his girlfriend. Meh, that bitch slept with every guy she came across. You don’t get away with that shit. So, he popped her, and now the cops are on his tail. He needed a place to hide. So, when Davy came up to him to say he had just the place, Jack was all for it. That’s when Davy took out his pistol and fired right into Jack’s head. Nothing. Jack turned and shoved his friend, demanding to know why he’d fire an unloaded gun at him. Silently, Davy pointed toward the ground, where the deceased body of Jack Mulaney lay.  “Aight, Jack. Here’s you go. You got a half hour to find a body to hide in, otherwise you’re gonna end up somewhere you don’t wanna be. I’d be lookin’ if I were you. Boston’s a big town. Lotsa people.” A confused Jack ran down the alleyway his dead body lay in, and out onto the streets of Boston.  Standing on the sidewalk, tens of people bustled by, blurring into

  Alexei smiled as he finished a perfect pirouette for Will. His boyfriend sat patiently, impressed by the finesse and grace that Alexei portrayed. Alexei was a ballerino protege in St. Petersburg for the Mariinsky Ballet, and he was a very good one at that. Will was also a dancer, but dabbled more in hip hop and breakdancing. When the two met, it was love at first sight: a match made in heaven. However, Will’s crew didn’t exactly approve of Alexei. Dmitri, the bboy crew ringleader, hatched a brilliant plan to make Alexei a much more “suitable” match for their dear American brother. Will had left the theatre about an hour before Alexei was finished with rehearsal. Swan Lake was an intense ballet that required a lot out of him, so he was absolutely exhausted as he began down the alleyway that leads to the street. Whipping out his phone, he shot a text to Will, promising that he’d meet him out in front of the Winter Palace, then on to dinner at the nicest restaurant around. However, his

  Andrew was going home after the Speech Meet, tired beyond belief. After completely dominating at Extemp. Speaking, he was ready to go home and just cozy up by the fire with Harry Potter & hot cocoa. It was way too cold! He was a Florida boy living in Pennsylvania, so he wasn’t used to a cold winter! Walking down the hallway, his mind was bundled up somewhere in his heavy winter coat. He barely realized it was the night of the school hockey game. What did make him realize it, was the winning team walking triumphantly toward the locker rooms. He walked right into Josiah Robinson, #39 on the team, and the captain. Josiah was disgusting after the game, his long brown hair was stringy with sweat & he absolutely stank of b.o. and pit smell. Andrew shot him a dirty look, clearly irritated that Josiah “inconvenienced” him ever so slightly. Josiah stared back, and broke a snarky smirk. He took off a big red glove, and took out his yellowed mouthguard. After grasping Andrew by the back

  This was my best friend and roommate, Marcel. He was my smartass, snarky, cocky, and totally fuckable wing man for 15 years. Ever since we were kids, meeting on the beach, he was that friend everyone wanted to have in their corner. From the minute we met we hit it off. I knew that this dim-witted, big hearted surfer bro was gonna be my best friend. He would totally fuck up anyone that made fun of me, and there were quite a few fights that he won on my behalf over the years. When we graduated high school, we made this blood pact: brothers forever. We went to the same college and were roomies for the entire time, even past our graduation time. During that time, we started fooling around a bit. You know, just a bro-blow. If he needed to blow off steam, I’d suck his delicious cock until he blew his gigantic load down my throat. If I had a particularly bad day at classes and work, he’d eat my ass better than any girl ever would. As a pan guy, he would literally fuck anything that moved, i

  Your lucky enough to go on one trip to Europe with your friend, and you have only one day to see Paris? That’s ridiculous. Impossible. And exactly how you see it, although your friend has other plans. She literally drops on you the minute you get to the hotel room that she’s meeting up with her friends at a club, so you can go do your “sightseeing.” Thus, that is why you are outside, alone in Paris, at about half-past midnight. You’re passing over a small pedestrian bridge, when you come across what looks like a young man just walking with his head down. Is that, green hair he has? How strange. You continue to walk in the same direction, toward what you think will lead you to the Centre Pompidou. It is rather abruptly, however, that the man stops and begins to take off his jacket. He has nothing on under there! It’s below freezing, and he’s gonna walk around with no shirt on? That’s ridiculous. You have an extra sweatshirt in your bag, and you run up to give it to him. “Excuse me, si

  Fuck Carter. He’s such a fucking asshole. Just because hes your older brother, he loves to just mess with you for the fun of it. Today he went too far. He went to your lacrosse tryouts, and saw you totally fail. You got hit in the balls with a teammate’s stick. How’s that for a double entendre. Instead of being supportive and helpful, what does Carter do? He laughs his fucking ass off. You can hear him from the stands. Seriously, what the actual fuck? He shoots some of his varsity bros a heads up, and motions for you to come back to the car.  Tryouts were over. You were sweaty, you were exhausted, you were bloody. Yeah, bloody! You’re bleeding from a cut on your forehead. Where did you get it? Who fucking knows? All that matters is that you didn’t even make the B team. The only reason the coach is giving you a second chance tomorrow, is because he saw you working out every single day for months in preparation for this. I mean, you’re totally in perfect shape! You’ve built a nice athl

  Brock was the college bully. There is no sugarcoating it. He picked on popular kids, nerds, other bullies… I mean he was the cream of the crop. In his mind, he was the king of the campus. Unfortunately, the student body didn’t see it that way. In fact, when Homecoming king was announced, and it was Chase Dunham, he was pissed. Of course it was fucking Jude Dunham. That pretty boy comes out as gay to the school, and everybody suddenly likes him. ‘Oh you’re so strong they say..’ Pssh, Brock would have none of it. He wasn’t untouchable because he was cool, chill, and nice. He was a dweeb. Just like everyone else. So, when thinking about how to plot his latest scheme, Brock was a bit of a dumbass and wandered out into traffic. He was struck and immediately killed. The school threw this big candlelight vigil with all these kids saying how sad they were that he was dead, crying on the 6 o’clock news. These are all kids he hated, and that hated him. But the worst of them all, was fucking Ju

  You were at the Paris Pride festival, and although you are a single gay male, you were bored out of your mind. You walk around the festival in your rainbow tee shirt & shorts, taking pictures to show your friends back home. As you walk down one of the streets, you stop to catch an adorable moment. You snap a picture of some nasty gutterpunk letting a little boy touch his spiky jacket. They were muttering something in French, as the punk seemed to notice you snapping the picture. You awkwardly wave at him, trying to show that you weren’t some creeper.  His response caught you off guard. He ruffled the kid’s hair a bit before approaching you with a pretty hardcore glare. Shoving you into the wall, he pins you down while angrily shouting in French. You don’t even speak French! You’re an American! However, telling him this seems to make him even more flustered. He drags you into a long alleyway nearby, and throws you against a dumpster. Your head spinning, you fall to the ground. He