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

  Carter and Vince were twin brothers, and the best of friends. Their incredible bond confused everyone else around them, thinking they were ‘involved’ with each other. However, they didn’t care. Now seniors, they played baseball together for the high school team, jammed in a band together, even shared a bedroom still. Vince always loved to remind Carter that he is the older by thirteen minutes, and was clearly a bit more outgoing than his quiet, reserved brother. Now, Brad and Thad were also brothers. However, they were the opposite of Carter and Vince. Outwardly, they had no love for each other, and in fact would roughhouse often in public. Yet, privately, they were going hot and heavy every night. They were the school bullies, big wrestler jocks who terrorized everyone they met; and they used their wrestling to every advantage. Unfortunately, these terrible two had come across a grimoire 5 feet below their backwoods country farm. Inside it, a majority of the text was unreadable....

  He was lost. Newark wasn’t where he wanted be. One wrong turn from the highway and it was the wrong side of the tracks: the best place for his car to break down. Shabby houses with no streetlights, weeds littered the yards, and disgusting shoes hung from the powerlines. It was a definite sign of a neighborhood to avoid. So, Brendan had to be quick. He popped the hood, and began tinkering quietly to find the problem. Shockingly, he was terrified to see that the smell of gasoline pungently lingered. Immediately realizing the situation he was in, as he stared at the punctured gas tank, dread set in. It was then that he felt the point of a switchblade against his back. “Alright, kid. Here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re gonna turn around slowly and face me. Don’t get any stupid ideas.” Brendan did as he was told, and turned to see his harasser. He had a black leather jacket on, with a black tee shirt and cuffed jeans. Big motorcycle boots and a cigar finished off his clearly “bad influ...

  Todd was a simple guy. He had no real interest in a career, or in anything requiring too much effort. Todd had low self-esteem and was a lethargic lump on his parent’s couch: 50 lbs overweight, acne-ridden, and no social skills whatsoever. Yet, he longed terribly for a life of leisure and lust. Living in Laguna Beach, the models and surfers dominated the streets, flashing their perfect chill lives to everyone around them. Even if it was only to observe them at a closer distance, he accepted a boring job at the Royal Coast Surf Company in the cargo room. All his coworkers were sexy surfers and part time Abercrombie models. And then there was Todd, sitting on the crate with his phone, stinking of patchouli.  Dillon, his manager, had had enough of his laziness and terrible work ethic. “Alright boys, take the rest of the day off! You’ve been working your asses off! Except you, Toddy boy. You’ll be working the next shipment by yourself. Maybe it’ll get you off your lazy ass!” Tod...

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  Jack watched as the bushes shuffled, clearly concealing someone. Ollie looked up, realizing his repayment would have to wait. Jack pulled out the third pair of shoes, formerly belonging to the baby of the group, Palms. Palmsy was always the sweet, good natured (if not dim) goofball that was the groups “pride and joy.” Not to mention, he was by far the most attractive of them all. Jack missed his Palmsy and desperately needed his bottom bitch back. He and Ollie rose, making their way toward the bushes. – The homeless man shuddered at the idea of what he just saw. A ghost? In real life? Possessing someone? Terrified, he quietly started to gather his things to move down toward the city center. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite quick enough to escape Ollie, bounding through the hydrangea bush. Ollie tackled the man to the ground, the old man too shocked to cry out. Jack slowly approached the man, now being held down by Ollie. Jack kneeled in front of the man’s face.  “Usually peopl...

It had been a long day. Justin finished the day with 225 lb deadlift, and was ready to bring LSU to the finals. Football was his life, it always had been, but it truly exhausted him. So, when he came home from practice, aside from a whey shake, he immediately hit the hay. However, on a night like Friday the 13th, with a full blood moon, perhaps it would have been a better idea to be more diligent. You see, its on nights like those that Louisianians worry about ghosts and demons being out on the prowl. But, from the comfort of his king sized sleep number bed, Justin slept rather soundly.  Thus, he wasn’t conscious to see the strange black form crawling out of the ceiling. A shadowy, dark mass manifested in the corner of the room, forming the outline of a masculine hulk with large, twisted horns. It’s large, flaccid cock dragged along the shag carpet as it approached Justin. Two glowing red eyes observed the peaceful jock, blissfully asleep. A bellowing laugh echoed in the suddenly c...

  Jack looked down at his phone, with his typical cocky smirk. Yeah, Musky Jack was back, but he wasn’t exactly finished. He was only getting started. He needed his crew back: Palms, Leon, and Ollie. With a chuckle, he dials and kicks back. The person answers the phone, and Jack wastes no time. With the shadiest voice and tone, he lures the person into a sense of excitement, daring him with his hypnotic tongue to meet him at the park at dawn. Hanging up, he knows all to well what’s about to transpire. Out of his backpack Jack pulls out a well worn pair of Nike AF1s. He puts the ratty old sneaker against his face and inhales the scent of his old pal Ollie. Soon, he’ll be kicking it with Ollie in person! — George looks at the coordinates on his phone. He’s in the right spot. He sits against a rock, giddy with excitement. He finally is gonna be recognised as a pro skater. Never mind all those douches that said otherwise, calling him a poser. So what if he can’t kick flip or shred a ha...