Pumpkin Seeds/Broken heart/Queer men/Unequal Soul/Hateful children/Roger Murder
Roger Murder is a special kind of man. He presents every woman he meets with shivery chills running along their veins. He is a charming man but his good looks have failed him a countless amount of times. He’s fucked all the wrong women and loved the ones who can’t keep up with their own mouths. All his bad luck has left him swollen with insecurity and for these unfortunate events Roger has taken up bad habits and awkward fetishes: He smokes marijuana everyday and drops acid every chance he gets, he rubs the oil of pumpkin seeds on his dick to make it slippery and fucks the hole he punched in the wall. About once a month he writes drunken letters to his ex-girlfriend telling her that she’s a slut for leaving him all alone and that he would like his things back (she took the furniture from his apartment as well as his beloved cat) because he cannot live with just a sunken-in bed stained with sweat and semen and an old television with a broken antenna. Roger doesn’t believe in broken hearts because he never had one to break; his blood is pumped by a metal cylinder that takes the place of an abandoned heart.
Let me tell you a little secret about Roger Murder. When he is alone on Saturday nights, he likes to invite the queer men over from the straight bar two blocks down. He shares with them appetizers and soothes them with music. He is sure to mix small amounts of alcohol and sometimes roofies into their carbonated juices. When they are sedated and unaware of where they are, he lures them to his room and poses them on his bed. He starts off with friendly poses and as his lust grows, the poses become more naked and seductive. Eventually he gives in to his irresistible itch and strips the men of all their belongings. He’s sure to dress them up in condoms and lube and gets them ready for what he likes to call “A rainy day surprise”. He inserts all their dicks into his orifices, sometimes two or three at a time. He counts how many breaths he can take before exploding on the mens’ faces… he can never breathe more than thirteen. When he has a man fuck him in the ass, he feels a shockwave of pain as the hole tries to fit itself around the dick penetrating it. Then, he feels his whole body clench and release and his dick spurts all over his carpet, into a stranger’s mouth. When he has finished, he puts the men back into their clothes and shoos them away. He deletes all the pictures except for one; he keeps his favorite one and stores it away in a secret drawer.
At times Roger will participate in amateur voodoo sessions with an African tribal woman he found at Wall Street. He meets her behind an abandoned grocery store and gives her uterus a quick flush and seduces her. She pays him good money, but money isn’t what he wants. He wants to see her do a tribal dance, this tribal dance pushes her ghost out from her body and it floats aimlessly around the alley and looks for a new host to live within. She says it’s an unequal soul that can never be justified with the ordinary human. The ghost is not satisfied with the tribal woman’s body because she has multiple identities that don’t make sense and are lethal to many fragile creatures. She once invited Roger to one of her gigs. He saw that her audience wasn’t able to comprehend what they were about to experience. He thought “this woman is fucking nuts…” and in all truth, she was. She did her dance and everyone watched in horror and awe as her green ghost snaked its way out of her mouth and into the faces of hateful children. Her show was immediately stopped and she was carried off stage by eight cops. The audience she held was shocked and frozen with amazement, they couldn’t move their feet from the ground, they couldn’t even open their mouths to translate what they just saw, and they just stood motionless. Roger Murder noticed the mood of the crowd and clapped for his tribal woman with tearful eyes. He went home and peeled back his finger nails and eyelids. He mailed them to the woman for good luck and found a home in an unburied coffin. He will spend the rest of his life lying next to a rotting corpse that was never once a failure.
Roger Murder is, indeed, a special kind of man.