Fabulating a Murder at the Chateau Marmont

My opener for James Franco. Hosted by Propaganda.

It was 2006 when Casey Redwood was drugged and dragged up the steps we stand on. A party night. A party girl. The soles of her feet were blackened by the street beneath her. Shoes off and loosely gripped by her fingers. The steps before the residence elevator. Figures in front and behind.

“Exciting night huh”, the Mexican, maybe Honduran 19-year-old bell boy says to the men dragging a soon to be dead body up to the guest elevator.

Fleeing to America after the attempted rape of his cousin, he now presses elevator buttons and meets the women unlucky enough to enter the west private entrance on Monday through Thursday between 2 and 6am. The Chateau employs employees in four hour shifts so they don’t have to provide social benefits to any of them. A trick the owner implemented, who, after relativizing the hotel in the late 90’s, and before his ousting after forcing some actor’s wife up a ladder at a dinner party and reaching his hand into her broken pussy. (They had a highly publicized adoption of two black children in the early 2000’s, but no one has seen them since.)

Up to the second to highest floor. The penthouse above them was not occupied tonight. Unfortunately, blood flows downward and the down stairs resident were home.

Casey was pretending to be 22, she was 18, maybe she was lying to the DMV as well because she had the body of someone much younger. The estrogen leaking from the piss of every woman on birth control in America has had disastrous consequences to the development of girls across the country, if you are a faggot or cruising in the east bathroom stall number three where the toilet paper holder obscures a glory hole where you can get sucked off by a bell boy on their break. Tips are appreciated if you are under 3 inches or over 8. Bell boys work hard you know. The average dick size in America is 5.5. A fact the soon to be murders would learn as one pulls out a substantially smaller cock than the other to abuse Casey.

Jokes are made about the bell boy. Casey didn’t laugh. Guess which guy was upset about her dirty feet? It was the one with the small penis.

Drunk girls never give a good foot jobs. He didn’t want her anymore and before anything could happen, in an attempt to over compensate his masculinity in front of his partner in crime, he pushes her into the bathtub and cracks her skull open. She bled out.

Anger erupted in the second to highest floor residential room. Too late to abduct another woman. Neither of them could stand the site of blood for long enough to defile the bleeding corpse. Call it a stroke of luck. The elevator man from before was not and agreed to dispose of her body as long as he was allowed to take it home. Sorry her home. Casey home. Another stroke of immediate luck. He was pulled over for reckless driving and charged with murder. Deported. Sent back to El Salvador.

Immigration control got the country wrong as well. He was raped to death in holding. The speed of the game is just so much faster in prison. Bathroom stall number three lost their best sucker. Which lead to a substantial dip in bathroom usage at the hotel causing the layoff of at least three sanitary staffers. Unfortunate. Market mentality.

The men on the second to highest floor had a dilemma on their hands. Remember we are in 2006. The virtual infrastructure that now leads to the abduction and abuse tens of thousands of girls and gays a year has yet to be developed. They had to go back on the street.

With the elevator operator having left his shift early. The then night manager of the Chateau had to profusely apologize for the inconvenience. Promising room service. Room service that of course had to be denied given the bloody state of the bathroom. Feeling slighted by the denial of this offer the night manager soured to the men.

He thinks in French. A language I don’t know. So, I don’t know what he was thinking about. But it sounds annoying. And I don’t care to spell it phonetically.

Back on the steps in front of the Chateau Marmont our protagonists’ dicks are not wet and two very different sizes. The man of lesser continence is a little bit upset having outed himself for nothing. He begins to plan his revenge.

Jelqing has been invented recently and he had been reading about it. He should have started a few months ago. One of his life regrets. As they wait outside of the liquor store for a new victim a conversation arises. The details of which are unimportant in comparison to the story I have been relaying you. You might find the details disgusting. There is nothing good said between these two. The adrenaline has crashed. The should have been jelqer wants to call it a night. Something a sub 3-inch man always seems to be doing. Giving up before the night starts.

He walks back to the chateau. An abduction is a two-man job. His partner of greater stature returns a few minutes after him. A housekeeper is now scrubbing the bathroom. She is too fat for him to rape.

Thankfully for her that is something a man with such a small penis could not conceive of. This is of course where the night ends. Or it should have been.

When the other man enters the room, he sees the scene I have described and laughs. That was not what the little man needed at that moment. And in a rage that should be sublimated into another deviant act slashes his partners throat and then removes his penis, putting it over his own in an act of inverted docking. Rigamortis only lasts a few minutes. The time to strike is now. The bathroom is in worse shape than ever and the maid is not impressed with the increasing workload for a Tuesday night. No overtime either. Minimum wage in 2006 was only 8 dollars.

Our not so protagonists attached penis keeps falling off before he can do anything. Confused by the sight, our house keeper lets out a sigh and takes a cigarette break. Yes, fat women smoke too. Right on the steps on the Chateau Marmont.