I wake up feeling cold. Really, really fucking cold. I’m more confused than anything else, but it’s not long until I’m fucking terrified. Where the fuck am I and how did I get here? Oh shit, my head hurts. What in the dogshit fuck is going on? I try to move but I can’t. Why the goddamn–oh shit, I’m tied down. Fuck, it’s bright! What the fuck is going on here?! I’m frantic by now–trying to break out of whatever is keeping my naked body tied, face-up on this table. It feels like a stainless-steel operating table or something–I don’t know. I’m just fucking cold and I have no idea where I am. I can’t hear anything but the flourescent buzz of the light right above my face. It smells sickeningly sterile in here. I don’t know what that means for me, but I do know that I didn’t know I was going to be here. I don’t want to be here. More than anything, I don’t want to be here. Oh God, am I going to die? Did I just get kidnapped?
“Haha, quit squirming. It’s not going to help you.”
My eyes are wide open now and I’m not moving a muscle. He’s right above me now, but the light is too bright for me to see him. His laughter just serves to terrify me further. I’ve been beaten, kidnapped, and tied down by a madman.
“You know, the fear you’re feeling right now–it’s funny to watch. You just can’t appreciate it because you’re the one tied down. If you could just see the look on your face. Haha, hold on. Let me get a camera. I’ll show you.”
He leaves for a moment and I am more desperate than ever to get up, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t break free. It’s not long until he’s back.
“I’m back! Did you miss me? Well, I suppose not. Haha, I’ll bet it’s just the opposite. Remember what I said about the look on your face and the fear and all that? I really want you to see your face. It’s the funniest goddamn thing I’ve seen in months. Haha, I have an idea!”
There’s a short pause, then “You better keep me laughing, because as soon as I lose interest, I’m going to cut a gash in your abdomen deep enough for you to smell your own shit.”
I make some distorted expression I’ve never made before and a flash of light blinds me for a couple seconds. When I can see again, there is a polaroid picture of my own terrified face right above me. I can’t see it very well because it’s in the way of the light above me and there is no light below me, but it gives me a second to see my murderer.
“You know, pissing yourself wasn’t very nice. It’s just more for me to clean up.” Then, he bursts out laughing. Hard. I’m the funniest thing Frenchie has ever seen.
In between bouts of giggling, “Matt, you knew this was going to happen someday. I mean, you can only push a person so far until they…well, kidnap and murder you! Haha!”
I know I’m fucked anyway, so I spit on his face. Frenchie doesn’t laugh.
I feel a pain I’m not used to. Something has gone through my hand, but I can’t even figure out how big it is. My reflexes force me to yelp and pull away, but pulling away only rips it through my hand.
Frenchie laughs his goddamn head off.
Bleeding and resigned to my fate, I finally open my mouth: ”Seth, I never meant–”
“SETH?! HAHA, It’s SETH now?! No, please. Call me Frenchie.”
“Seth, I–” Frenchie breaks my toe. I scream. “What the FUCK do you want from me, Frenchie?!”
“Haha, I want a title shot. I’ve only ever wanted a title shot. And I want it to be fair. I don’t want any goddamn guest referees. But most importantly, I want you to keep your fucking mouth shut before the match. No trash talking me and saying I get fucked my men or anything. If you say one goddamn thing, I will cut your slippery little tongue out. Hahaha!”
“Are you fucking serious!? You kidnapped me because you want a fucking title shot? You fucking piece of shit! Fine! You’ve got your shot. But on one condition.”
“Hahaha, who the fuck are you to be making conditions right now? But go ahead. I’m curious now. Be still, my fucking heart. Hahaha.”
“Fuck you. My condition is that, if I retain my title, you eat an entire ziplock bag full of my shit while I fuck your mom right in front of you.”
“Hahahaha, you know, I really didn’t think you’d pull out the ‘Frenchie’s mom’ thing in this position, but I’m proud of you. I was going to cut a hole in your throat and fuck it until I came into your lungs, but that little bit or courage went a long way. Hahaha, I’ll see you at summerslam!”
That’s the last thing I remember until I wake up in my bed. My hand is bandaged and I can feel a splint on my toe.
Before I get up to start training, I mutter to myself, “Frenchie is going to get the MATTer of Fact so hard, he’s going to sneeze testicles.”

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…
“Im hard and Im ready. Im horny.”
My urine is golden and he lives for pee
Says he lives for
“Menstruation–the best motivation”
He comes round and he goes down on me.
And I make a turd
Like a baby would do
Do ever what you want to do
Cum like cumming’s new.
Keep on munching on my poo
One dump is all that I provide you
And I speak to you like your sex is the worst.
Fucked a little boy, then you put him in a hearse.
Came like in a porno, jerkin’ with rage.
Dead little boy could not yell rape
I want something else
To get me through this
Frenchie-charmed kind of life baby baby
“I want something else”
Im not listening when you say
“Let’s try…”
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…
The piss was gold, it stung my nose
He was taking sips of it but said it was too cold
And he wished he could get back there
Some place back there
Fondling little boys that he would rape
Doing crystal meth,

Hoping the viagra would take.
“It wont stop, It wont go down, my little cock!
With a big cock rhythm and a smile for the cops
And then he fucked up
He took the hit that he was given
It was viagra again
It was viagra again he said
“Ow I sprained back there, dude.
I got too hard and fell asleep inside dudes.
How do I get myself back to
The boys in my bed?”
I want something else
To get me through this
Frenchie-charmed kind of life baby baby
“I want something else”
Im not listening when you say
“Let’s try…”

“I believe in the cum beneath my nose
The bitch gives a feeling a sexy feeling
I believe in the dick that grows
And a ten inch dick can make me cry
When Im with you I feel like creampie.
Would that be alright? Alright!”

When the sprain came on,
He said he was flashing
His velvety nips in the city, then slipped
On the urge to feel a guy but now he’s “struggling to survive”
“Those days you were wearing that velvet dress–
You’re the priestess. I must confess
Those little red panties they passed the test
But it would be cooler
If you were a priest for this fuckfest.”

“Son, could you hold me? And we’ll start fuckin’
C’mon, it’s all that I want to do. Just a little, now!
Feel myself–as hard as your shit’s brown.
Be scared ’cause I am cumming in mounds
And you better run for your life
Cause I’m going to be cumming for a while
Because your butt is so tight, all right?”

I want something else
To get me through this life baby
“I want something else”
Not listening when you say
“Let’s try…”
“Let’s try…”
“Let’s try…”
“…more guys!”
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…
The piss was gold, it stung my nose
He was taking sips of it but said it was too cold
And he wished he could get back there
Some place back there in the place he would fuck guys.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…
“I want something else”

If I leave here tomorrow,
Could I take your son with me?
For I must be travelling on now,
I know he’s young, but there’s parts of him I wanna see.
You’re just jealous I’m in love, girl.
Me and him are meant to be.
Cause I’m as free as a bird now.
And this Frenchie you can’t change, Ohhhhhhh.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
Lord knows, I can’t change.

My, my, you have a sweet ass, boi.
I want to dick slap your butt.
You best not call the cops, Bradley,
Cause God will bring you shame.
But if you touched my hard penis,
You butt would fee good, like fame.
Cause I’m as free as a bird now.
And this Frenchie you can’t change, Ohhhhh.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
And this Frenchie you can’t change.
Lord knows, I can’t change.
Lord, help me. I can’t change.
Lord, I can’t change.

Won’t you fly, Frenchiebird? Yeah!

*40 minute guitar solo*

I remember a time a few years back when Frenchie actually got so pissed about us writing about him that he actually took legal action against us. He claimed that we were ruining his reputation and good name within the gay community by writing so many loving things about him. His main complaint was that he didn’t like being romantically associated, even in fiction, with such “low quality man meat.” He’d use any excuse to cover for just not being a hot gay man.

It was actually pretty scary for us. I remember Tony even trying to blame it all on Zach just to get out of trouble. They hate each other to this day. A few years ago, Tony had his first child and he made this whole big thing out of Zach eating his baby Katietedrick Lockard, but to be fair, Tony really was being kind of a dick when he blamed all the writing on Zach.

It all worked out in the end, though. The judge in the case determined that we couldn’t actually ruin the repuatation of someone without a good one to begin with. Judge Judy went on to tell him that he looked like a “complete faggot” and her baliff nodded with a very ethnic grunt.

Now, we just write intentionally dematory things about Frenchie because of double-jeapordy laws.

P.S. Frenchie is a big ol’ poop butt.

Frenchie VIII has entered the chat.

Frenchie VIII: Are you in here, Zach?

OhHellYesxoxo: helo there

Frenchie VIII: Hey.

OhHellYesxoxo: wuts your name?????????

Frenchie VIII: My name is Frenchie.

OhHellYesxoxo: mmm frenchie that’s a nice name. wut brings you to dis chat

Frenchie VIII: I’m looking for my friend Zach. By the way, what’s your name?

OhHellYesxoxo: my name is Franklin. do u have a pic?

Frenchie VIII: Yes. It’s not a very good picture.

OhHellYesxoxo: can I c?

Frenchie VIII: Well, you seem like a nice guy. Ok. Here it is…

Frenchie VIII wants to direct connect with you.

Frenchie VIII is now directly connected with you.

OhHellYesxoxo: mmmmmyeah that looks real nice you hottiey

Frenchie VIII: Oh gosh…you’re…you’re making me blush…

OhHellYesxoxo: oh gadd that pic is so hottt im so hard now

OhHellYesxoxo: u lik video gamez?

Frenchie VIII: I love video games. I play them all the time.

Frenchie VIII: In fact, I’d rather play video games than hang out with my friends.

OhHellYesxoxo: aww why that?

Frenchie VIII: Well, my friends don’t really seem to understand me.

OhHellYesxoxo: sound like your frienz are real asholes

Frenchie VIII: Tell me about it.

OhHellYesxoxo: wel I think your so sexy. I want to get you naked LOL

OhHellYesxoxo: j/k jk j/k/ jk/ j/k/ jk/ j/k/ j/k/ j/k/ j//k/ /

Frenchie VIII: Hahahaha.

Frenchie VIII: You are so funny, Franklin.

Frenchie VIII: So what video games do you like to play? RPGs, sports, mystery, action?

OhHellYesxoxo: want to come over and play 36o wit me?

Frenchie VIII: I don’t know if I should. I’m really supposed to be meeting my friend Zach.

OhHellYesxoxo: forgit bout zak. He left you all alone I would never do that to you

Frenchie VIII: Really?

OhHellYesxoxo: really!!!!1!!1!!!

Frenchie VIII: You’re so sweet, Franklin.

OhHellYesxoxo: so you wana cum ovar? I have halo

Frenchie VIII: Well…

Frenchie VIII: Alright. Where do you live?

OhHellYesxoxo: wel im traveling thro town I am staying at the holiday in

Frenchie VIII: Ok.

OhHellYesxoxo: u know were tht is?????????/?

Frenchie VIII: Yeah.

OhHellYesxoxo: kool meet u soon?

Frenchie VIII: Yeah, I’ll be right over.

Frenchie is away at 8:53:12 PM.

OhHellYesxoxo: see you in a few!11

Auto-response from Frenchie VIII: I THINK I HAVE A REAL FRIEND!

Frenchie VIII returned at 9:10:25 PM.

Frenchie VIII: Why is your hotel room so dark?

OhHellYesxoxo: oh the lite bulb blew out lol

OhHellYesxoxo: *****light

Frenchie VIII: Oh, I see. Lol.

Frenchie VIII: So where is the 360?

OhHellYesxoxo: the 360 is muh DICK

Frenchie VIII: Arrrghhhhh! Noooo!

OhHellYesxoxo: come on come on come on DON’T SCREM! DON’T SCREEM OR I WILL FUKIN KILL YOU!

Frenchie VIII: akfldjakfdjafkdlfjaMMMMMMMMMM

OhHellYesxoxo: do not you bit down on my dixk DON’T!

Frenchie VIII: WHHHHYYYYYYY

OhHellYesxoxo: admit that im yours! Admit that you love me

Frenchie VIII: No, I don’t love you!

OhHellYesxoxo: ADMIT IT!

Frenchie VIII: Why is it so biiiiiiiig?

OhHellYesxoxo: Arrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

Frenchie VIII: *gurgles* Ohhhhh, it’s all over my face!

OhHellYesxoxo: Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

Frenchie VIII: Please stop!

OhHellYesxoxo: Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggg

Frenchie VIII: This is not Halo!

OhHellYesxoxo: LOLOLOLOL

OhHellYesxoxo has signed off at 9:15:04

Frenchie VIII: It tastes so baaadddd!

Frenchie VIII: Shit! He left! Urrghhh!

Frenchie VIII has signed off at 9:16:00

I like to tell people that I’ve known Frenchie since the day we were born. Of course that isn’t true seeing as how I am nearly seven months older than him. But we have such a powerful and rewarding connection as best friends that it seems like we were born from the same womb. And just imagine all of the jokes he’d hear if he and I did come from the same womb.

“Hey, Frenchie! I was in your mom’s vagina once!”

We wouldn’t be brothers, of course. I’m talking about a strong spiritual connection. I would have been inside his mom’s vagina in a spiritual way.

With that said, I have actually known Frenchie since we were in the second grade. I met a bowl cut wearing, sweat pants rocking, girl impregnator named Frenchie. The first time I saw him I said, “Wow, I want to be just like him!” Then I saw him get kicked three times straight in the nuts by one of our female classmates because he asked if she wanted an invitation to his Power Ranger themed birthday party in his pants. Then I said to myself, “You know, I’m good not being Frenchie.”

Later that day at recess, he walked up to me and said, “So you’re Matt Mills. I’ve heard about you. You think ya better than me?” Then he pulled back like he was going to throw a punch at me. “I run this playground, pretty boy,” he said next. “If I told you to shit your pants, you would without question. Got it? If I told you—”

He didn’t even finish. Someone across the playground had kicked a football and it smashed against Frenchie’s head. He dropped like a bag of computer monitors. He didn’t move. He was knocked completely unconscious. So I just walked away.

Frenchie wouldn’t admit it back then and he wouldn’t admit it now, but back in the fifth grade, someone started a rumor around our school that Frenchie was gay. And, of course, Frenchie was always more than eager to prove any rumor about him either true (if he felt that it would make him look cool or a badass) or false (if he felt that it was a threat to him looking cool or like a badass).

Someone started a rumor that Frenchie had rigged a toilet in the boys bathroom with a camera. There was about a 10 second delay on the camera so that by the time the camera took its picture, the victim would already be unzipped and exposed. When the camera was discovered, there was a piece of white tape stuck to the side of the camera that said “This camera is the property of Frenc Matt Mills.”

It was the first 5th grade sex scandal in U.S. history. Frenchie could tell you that. He’s a history major.

So I confronted him. I said, “Why did you try to blame me for that camera? I thought we were friends. That’s not what you do to your friends! That’s against the rules of friendship.”

Frenchie looked me straight in the eyes and said, “FUCK THE RULES!” Then he lit up a cigarette in the middle of math class. Our teacher looked at him and said, “Frenchie, are you smoking a cigarette?”

Frenchie looked at her and said, “No, I’m smoking a flaming dick!”

After he was wrestled out of the classroom by our teacher, our principal literally made him smoke a flaming dick…with his ass.

Okay, so it’s me again bois. Let me just start out by saying I really hate Matt Mills. Like, I know we’ve been over this again and again, but that motherfucker is really REALLY pissing me off. Do you know what he did today? He made a fake myspace bulletin from a fake Frenchie myspace. What the fuck Matt? Do you think you’re clever because you write about me being gay and cuddling with Zach in college? It’s not like it even happened that often. Jesus! And I only slipped my finger in his butt when he was SLEEPING so he wouldn’t notice. No harm, no foul.

Anyway, the main reason I’m writing this is that I want to officially state my hatred for women. I’m not saying I’m gay now or anything. I’m just really tired of my mom sleeping around with my “friends” and always bossing me around like I’m a little kid. I’LL PUT AWAY MY DINOSAURS WHEN I’M GOOD AND READY, YOU TWAT! UGH!

Wall-E was good. I went and saw it with my dad. I did the whole penis-in-the-popcorn thing, but he wasn’t hungry and all I got for my trouble was a buttery weiner and bad-tasting popcorn. I’ll trick you into touching me again someday, dad. Just you wait. Maybe I’ll be like “April Fool’s! My dick is in your mouth!” when you wake up next April. Hmm. That’s not very subtle though.

Anyway, I heard Matt Mills is single now, which means Arielle is single now, which means I can hurt Matt. All I have to do is woo Arielle with my machismo. I’ve been doing crunches like woah for the past two days and I just bought the newest Richard Simmons “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” video. A couple more days of this and I think I’ve got a shot. Well, not really, but whatever. I’m still going to try.

Anyway, I’ve got to find a way to get in touch with Arielle, so I’m going to do some internet “research.” Bye cuties.

-S”F”W

Frenchie went down to Georgia, he was raped while lookin for grapes to peel

He was mad cause he’d been had and his butt just wouldn’t heal.

When he came across this young man choking his chicken and lookin hot.

And Frenchie jumped up on a hickory stump and said “boy, let me tell ya what:

“You may not know it, but I’m good with my hands too.

And if you care, I’ll strip down bare and do some things to you.”

The boy said: “My name’s Johnny and it might be sin,

I’m nine years old, I’m sure you’ve been told, but I don’t know where your dick has been.”

Johnny you better zip up quick and run real fast and hard.

Cause Frenchie’s loose in Georgia and his dick is pretty hard.

If you win you never have to withstand his rigid pole.

But if you lose, then Frenchie gets your hole.

Then Frenchie opened up his pants and he said “I’ll start this show.”

And oil flew from his fingertips which let Johnny know.

And he pulled his penis across a guitar and he made a silly hiss.

Then he started shooting semen and it sounded something like this.

When Frenchie had finished, Johnny said: “My dad will come for his son

And if you don’t let me go, you ho, you’re gonna be the one on the run.”

Homo on the mountain, run boi, run!

Frenchie’s in your house, where your dad’s gun?

Checkin behind all doors, please, God no.

Terri is your vag dry, no, child no.

Frenchie bowed his head because he knew that he’d been beat.

He zipped up his pants really slow and stared down at his feet.

Johnny said, “Frenchie, just come on back if you ever wanna try again.

I told you once, you son of a gun, I don’t know where your dick has been.

Homo on the mountain, run boi, run!

Frenchie’s in your house, where your dad’s gun?

Checkin behind all doors, please, God no.

Terri is your vag dry, no, child no.

Matt and Frenchie, tied to their chairs, were carried to a large room with concrete walls. They soldiers sat the two spies down beside each other and took a few steps back. The Russian, who Matt believed must have been a general in the Soviet military, stepped up in front of them.

“Now, make no mistake about it, I intend to see you both killed. But first I want you ask you a few questions. You might as well answer as truthfully as possible because you’re going to die regardless.”

Matt looked over at Frenchie. He saw that Frenchie had the biggest look of confidence on his face. He thought that Frenchie was trying to give his best James Bond impression, as if at any moment Frenchie would crack some wise and cunning answer to one of the Russians questions. It sickened him. The Russian walked over to another soldier and began to speak in a very low tone. This gave Frenchie and Matt a few seconds to talk amongst themselves.

“I’m just sad that I can’t be the one to kill you myself, Frenchie.” Matt said bluntly.

“Matt, Matt, calm down,” Frenchie assured him. “Look, I have this all under control. I’ve seen this in movies at least 25 times. Listen, I have it all under control.”

Matt just sighed and shook his head. The Russian walked back over to the bois. “Alright! Enough stalling! Any last requests?”

Matt suddenly wondered why the Russian didn’t ask any questions.

“Yes! I have one!” Frenchie perked up. “I would like you to tell me your entire plan of how you are going to kill us.”

“Well, that’s simple. I’m going to point to those guys over there and when I do, they will open fire and shoot you until you are dead.”

“That’s all?” Frenchie asked. “No elaborate plan? No high-tech means of killing us? No far-fetched plan to get rid of us?” He seemed to be challenging the Russian now.

“No,” the Russian sounded quite irritated now. “Just shoot you.”

Matt then realized with a loud groan what Frenchie’s plan had been. Frenchie had wanted the Russian to tell him his plan, like the villan in a James Bond movie always does when they are about to kill him. Frenchie figured that the Russian would tell him some elaborate plan and then Frenchie could work and use that very plan against them. Frenchie was a dumbass.

The Russian looked at Matt. “What say you? You know, it will be a shame to kill such a handsome man as you. I like you, comrade.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Matt side while cocking his head to one side. “Well, I have a little proposition for you.” You see my friend over there?“

The Russian grunted without even looking at Frenchie.

“Well, he is very talented in certain ways that may be of use to you.”

“What are you saying, comrade?”

“I’m saying that Frenchie will suck every dick in this room if you let us go.”

“What?” Frenchie said. He was embarrassed. “Maaaaaatt, you know that I’m shy about that kind of thing!”

“I don’t know about that,” the Russian said. “I would really like to kill him!”

“PLEASE!” Frenchie exploded. “PLEASE DON’T KILL US!” He was crying now. “I SUCK YO DICK MAN! I SUCK YO DICK!” Matt looked over at Frenchie, who now sounded like a crack fiend asking for money.

“He really will,” Matt said assuringly. “Frenchie can suck a bowling ball through a McDonalds straw.”

“Well, I don’t know,” the Russian said. “We kind of have protocol about things such as this.”

Frenchie’s sobs were echoing through the concrete room. “Please, I will! I will suck ya dicks! Just don’t kill me!”

“I wouldn’t recommend it to you if I didn’t believe so myself,” Matt said. “Frenchie sometimes can be a little coy about it, but once you go Frenchie, you never go back.”

The Russian looked at Matt as if he was convinced. “Alright!” the Russian said with laughter. “I will do it! Thank you, comrade. You know, my wife, she no sucky no more. She just lay there like sleeping cat while I do all the work. Just once I would like to be worked on, eh?” He said this with a nudge of his elbow.

“Oh, I agree,” Matt said. “And Frenchie here, why, he can do just that!”

Matt was a terrible friend. He had just sold Frenchie to the Russian and the group of soldiers in the room for his freedom. As Frenchie began to work on the Russian, a group of about eight soldiers grabbed him and dragged him into the next room. God only knows what they did to him in there. As Matt walked back to the hotel a free man, he slept like a baby into the late afternoon the falling day. After an ordeal such as that, sleep was very welcome. Frenchie arrived later that evening. He came into the room dancing like a ballerina. He certainly had the time of his life in the Soviet Union.

The End.

The world of international espionage is a world of danger. One might never know who is watching them or listening to them at any given time. When on the job in a far away place, it is important to keep your wits about you and your best poker face on at all times. Too many times there had been mistakes that could have been avoided in Frenchie’s life. This was one of those times.

The room was dark and he could smell the familiar scent of what was a cold, damp, and uninviting basement. Frenchie was tied to a chair. His captives made sure to rough him up good, like a little school girl bitch. “Those Soviet fucks,” he said to himself as blood drooled from his mouth. Ten feet away, facing him was his partner-in-crime, Matt Mills. Matt was also tied to a chair, though he had escaped the brutal beatings that Frenchie had endured. Mainly because he was too good looking and his Soviet kidnappers felt that damaging his otherwise flawless features would be a shame. He also escaped a beating because he told the authorities that “it was all Frenchie’s idea.” But Matt was pissed.

“I can’t believe you got us mixed up in this shit!” Matt screamed into the dark. Though they were 10 feet away from each other, they couldn’t see one another in the darkness. “You just had use the “I’m a spy for the United States” line on that tranny back at the hotel, didn’t you? Did you think she would be impressed? Did you think that you two could fuck each other at the same time? Your dick in her ass and her dick in yours? That’s not even physically possible!” Matt realized that he had been screaming at the top of his lungs. “Not to mention that we’re in the Soviet Union! They love American spies here!” Frenchie’s silence irritated Matt even more. “Are you going to say anything, fag?”

Frenchie closed his eyes. It didn’t matter if they were open or closed. He saw the same thing regardless: cold and empty darkness. He was drawing on the elder spirits of the world to grant him inner peace. His breathing slowed and he began to feel relaxed. “Shhhh,” he said in a near whisper. “I’m meditating.”

A primitive growl escaped from Matt’s lips. The growl turned into a heavy scream of sheer anger. “When I get out of this chair, I’m going to shove a splittered broom handle into your ass so fucking deep that you will be able to suck on the end of it!” Matt continued his screaming and ranting while trying to wiggle out of the tight grip of the ropes to kill Frenchie. But Frenchie was miles away in a near Yoga-like meditative state. Fairies and angels flew quickly in Frenchie’s mind. Snow capped mountains stood high and mighty in the background of his happy place. The place was so inviting.  A happy black bear carrying a jar of golden honey walked up to Frenchie. “Hiya!” the black bear said. “My name is Stephen! Want to skip in the flowery meadows of Happyville with me?” A smile crossed Frenchie face. A wide gay smile that would have made Matt’s heart explode. “Yes,” Frenchie said. “Would you like to be my friend?” Before the bear had a chance to answer, a light in the dark basement flickered on. “No! NO!” Frenchie screamed as he was blinded by the light. “I almost had one! A real one! A real friend! He loved me for who I am! Come back, friend!”

“I swear to God, I will rape you with a splittered wooden shoe!” Matt didn’t know why he kept threatening Frenchie with splittered wooden objects. When Matt become as angry as he was, his mind goes blank and the only thing he can see is things made of wood; chairs, tables, shoes, and trees.

A door behind Frenchie opened. Both Matt and Frenchie were still getting adjusted to the bright light in the room. The face of the man entering the room could not be seen clearly by either boi. “Ahh,” the man said in a thick Russian accent. “When I was briefed about the capture of you two, I must say that I certainly didn’t believe it!” A deep chuckle seemed to resonate from his body. “But now I can see that it was no lie. You both will be entering a world of Soviet hell shortly for your crimes against Mother Russia. You have broken many rules—“

“Fuck the rules!” Frenchie interrupted. That had become his catchphrase. A smile slowly cracked across his face, as if he had won some sort of battle. Matt shook his head and imagined that Frenchie must have heard that in a Nickelback song. Frenchie’s favorite band was Nickelback and he swore by their artistic authenticity.

The Russian man looked at Matt almost dumbfounded. Matt shrugged. “Uh, alright, then,” the Russian began again. “Well, either way, you’re both in a lot of trouble and it won’t be nice.” The Russian looked Frenchie right in the eyes. “Here in the Soviet Union, we’ve captured many foreign spies. They usually make a simple mistake, like getting careless when making a drop-off or by feeling like they are above suspicion. Why, one British spy once fell in love with one of our female agents. They were together for three years, had even planned a wedding. Imagine that. Then on the night before the wedding, our agent put three rounds from a silenced pistol into his head. But never, NEVER, in the history of the Soviet Union, has a foreign spy been captured because he admitted it to a tranny hooker he was trying to impress in a hotel. Never. So at least, before you face the firing squad, you will know that you made history in the Soviet Union.”

Frenchie stared deeply back into the Russians eyes. “Listen, Ivan,” Frenchie bit down on his lip to retain his laughter. Frenchie called the man “Ivan” as if to insult him. Little did Frenchie know that his name was actually Ivan. “I won’t be staying here long enough to face your scary sounding firing squad. In fact, me and my partner here have been planning our escape.”

“Oh, really?” the Russian asked matter-of-factly.

“Yes. In fact, why don’t you untie me so that I can show you how we intended to escape?”

The Russian man did just that. Frenchie was untied. The Russian and Matt, still tied to the chair, stared at Frenchie.

“Show, now!” the Russian screamed in broken English, which was strange because he seemed to be speaking English very well a second ago.  

Frenchie didn’t know what to do. He stood there confused. He didn’t actually think the Russian would untie him. He was only trying to sound more like a real spy. He didn’t think the Russian would call his bluff.

“Yeah,” Frenchie said defeated. “I…I got nothing.” Frenchie sat back down in the chair, his head hanging low like a sulking dog. The Russian immediately retied him.

Matt was seeing red. He was sending Frenchie atom bombs through his eyes. If looks could kill, Frenchie would be dead. “I can’t fucking believe you! You were untied and you just stand there!”

“Matt, please,” Frenchie said. He sounded almost like a teacher telling a student to be quiet. “Now isn’t the time.”

“Now,” the Russian said. “We take you to firing squad!” He waved his hand to the door. Several armed soldiers entered the room. They didn’t bother untying Matt or Frenchie. They just picked up the chairs and began to carry them out of the room. Frenchie, while this was happening, complimented two soldiers on their nice clean uniforms.

How will the boys escape this?!

2 B CONTINYOUED.