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

  “Hey boys, look who we got here!” Those words strike fear into every insecure man in a locker room, and for Franklin, this was no exception. Late night workout, 2 AM, no one there. The tubby gent slowly turned, and to his chagrin, three beefcake soldiers stood there, flexing and showing off their physiques. He had seen these three douchebags for the past week or so, taking up all the free weights and just being an all around noisy nuisance. But who’s going to tell three American Army soldiers to fuck off? Certainly not unassuming Franklin. “Hey guys, I’m really in a rush, so I’m gonna get in the showers and head home.” The three smugly exchanged glances, muttering whispers under their breath. Franklin meagerly tried to pass the three mountains, but to no avail. Every move he made to get to the showers was mirrored by the “heroic” bullies.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why in such a rush, man! We’re shipping off in a few days, and we want some fun.” The color in Franklin’s cheeks flushed to his

  “Who the fuck are you!” You stared at the half naked man lying on your sofa, playing GTA V, the room reeking of weed and… some unidentified scent. “Get the hell out of my house!” You were shrieking like a banshee, yet this studly stranger took no notice of your rage.  “Yo, bruh. Why you screamin’? Calm down.” As if a Valium hit you like a brick, waves of relief washed over you.  “I… I don’t know.” You stood there, dumbfounded. Wondering why it was you were so surprised this dude was in your apartment. You calmly place your stuff down at the door, kicking off your uncomfortable work shoes. “Man, that fuckin’ job has got you stressed out as fuck.” He sits upright, patting the leather cushion next to him. Your head still fuzzy, you idly find yourself waddling over to him, and plopping down next to him on the couch. He tosses his arm around your shoulder, and hands you the second controller, which you gladly accept. There is nothing like Grand Theft Auto to let out all that aggression th