DR Bogdan


and then, maybe, write about it


    28 December 2019 by

    She came from work pretty early
    and I knew when I
    saw her that
    she quit yet again

    She changed four jobs in the last
    five months and
    got a tattoo that said APATHY
    on her lower back

    Her father died five months ago. He
    died of what’s called
    He was sipping on a beer bottle while
    driving fairly slow
    on a country road
    But the front wheels hit some log
    or something
    and the impact triggered the
    It bloomed in his face and stabbed
    the beer bottle into
    his eye
    causing him a major trauma to the brain

    old man.

    Maybe not your wife but
    your daughter sure will miss you

    She’s coming from work
    dirty and ragged
    Approaches me and demands a cigarette

    I give her a small lighter

    and she tells me to go
    fuck myself

    “Well you’re done with work
    early today,” I tell her.

    “I quit,” she says.

    “Really? What was it this time?”

    “What’s every time, deepshit. The boss
    or the coworkers or
    the customers. Or all of them.
    Motherfuckers expect you to work on
    holidays. Imagine
    that. Like, Christmas is in three
    days, for fuck’s sake.”

    “I work on holidays,” I say

    “That’s cuz you’s a pussy-ass-bitch
    who won’t say no when you
    mean it. You’re like…
    all the rest of ’em.”

    “Maybe,” I say. “But also, if I’m at
    work I don’t have to be with my relatives
    and that’s
    a plus in my book.”

    “Pff, yeah, whatever. Lend me
    a ten, will ya?”

    “Best I can do is a five. And you
    can keep the lighter.”

  • Backstreet Dumpster

    25 December 2019 by

    Originally posted on Dream Noir:
    by Dragos Bogdan The world was growing colder because the weather was akin to people’s hearts, he was told in a dream The people had denied him the world and he was left with the backstreet dumpster And he had to share the backstreet dumpster with the dogs Or rather…

  • To justify all the hurt inside

    19 December 2019 by

    like a popular song once said

    She couldn’t remember a time
    when she felt needed

    So she wrapped the
    blanket around
    her and cried while biting her

    oh, but it wasn’t entirely
    correct. In the other room
    the old man kept
    shouting her name
    and knocking on the wall
    He’d soiled his
    again and needed help changing

    She was very
    needed now. She’d been needed ever
    since mother left
    for the last time and father followed
    drunk as he was
    and rolled the car down the hill. He wanted
    to hit mother and her
    new man with the car
    and missed
    And now his legs wouldn’t work again
    and his imbecile daughter
    didn’t take care of him
    the right way

    “The right way…” she said. “Is to
    let you rot. Let your
    body match your soul, old man…”
    She placed the
    pillow over her head
    and closed her eyes
    and remembered
    the song

    If love was red
    then she was…

  • somehow he always got grounded

    17 December 2019 by

    they all gathered around to hear
    the little girl sing
    and she seemed so happy
    about it
    she had to cry first
    But they wouldn’t dare join her in her
    cry and instead cheered and
    urged her to carry on


    And she opened her mouth
    to sing
    but her mouth was wrong
    in as far as singing went
    And she kept on singing
    and they smiled brightly and dared
    not flinch as she sprayed their
    faces with spit

    but eventually her mother started crying
    and father embraced mother and
    guided her red face against his
    chest and started crying as well
    and buried his red face in her hair

    Our daughter is so talented
    Oh God, oh dear God, so talented

    And they began to pray
    and the aunt prayed she won’t have
    to name the song the little girl was singing
    Oh God…

    And the little girl went
    pffff pfff brrr wa pfff chhh pff
    with her swollen tongue between the
    deformed lips
    and surveyed the crowd and wondered
    why her cousin wasn’t present

    Well, it was his loss
    somehow he always got grounded
    before her concertos

    What an idiot

  • Mr. Big Walrus

    14 December 2019 by

    as usually
    not much going on at her place

    “Why did you
    on coming here?” he

    And she watched him with
    scrutiny. “What? You don’t like

    He looked around. “To be honest,
    your hobby scares me. You
    design dolls and
    plushy toys for a
    living. They even watch us
    as we fuck. I can’t
    stand this place, and don’t know how can you…”

    She stood from
    the bed
    walked over to a pile of plushy toys
    dug in for a brown hippo
    and reached up its ass
    and her hand
    returned with a small bottle
    of brandy

    “Shit,” he said.

    She tossed him the bottle.

    He caught it.

    “Right,” she said. “Now, why
    don’t you
    enjoy your treat and keep
    some company to
    Mr. Big Walrus there in the corner
    while I get
    back to work. I’ve some
    commissions to honor.”

    He opened the bottle
    smelled it
    Nodded at her and
    went into the corner of the room
    where Mr. Big Walrus
    warm and fuzzy

  • Bogdan Dragos

    5 December 2019 by

    Originally posted on Horror Sleaze Trash:
    cartoonist Dad was fat all his life Obese He couldn’t do a lot of things. Walk without special help Bathe Climb stairs Sit in a normal chair Drive a normal car Sleep in a normal bed And say “I love you, son.” To draw those words out of his…

  • spaceship

    28 November 2019 by

    late autumn

    cold enough to
    turn a breath visible

    he leaned against the
    rail of the bridge
    and watched the
    river run
    below him
    and imagined he was in a
    hovering above the land

    he said, “Yes, I’ll be there one
    day, brother. I’ll pick you
    up with the spaceship we wanted
    to build together. I’ll
    put it together and then–”

    and just then a pair of
    hands grabbed him
    from behind and pulled him apart from
    the rail. “All right now,” said
    the nurse, “let’s not get
    carried away again.”

    He startled. “I wasn’t going
    to jump this time. I swear.”

    “I believe you,” said the nurse. “But
    let’s just leave now. Let’s get
    back. I’m cold and
    I’m sure you’re hungry too and
    we could get a cup of
    hot chocolate. How about it?”

    “I wasn’t going
    to jump,” he said.

    She held his hand. “I know. I know, dear.
    Come now. Let’s get back.”

    “I wasn’t going
    to jump.”

    She dragged him away from the
    rail and held his
    hand all the way back
    to what she called the friendly house.

  • Ol’ Bloody Brush

    15 November 2019 by

    the old man stank
    but he
    stank more
    of booze and cheap
    tobacco than

    his mouth missed
    a lot of
    and his eyes
    would never
    in the same
    direction at once

    but worst of
    all were his hands
    Now those were
    really messed up

    He claimed he had
    paint tanks
    under his nails
    and he wasn’t lying

    he was mad
    but not a liar

    He could paint
    wherever he was
    on any surface

    And he did

    pressing the stump
    of his fingers
    against walls and
    triggered immediate

    and then he
    would trace on and
    draw something
    Usually a penis or
    some hairy cunt or
    some silhouettes
    fucking or
    something like that

    Then he’d step back
    admire his creation
    and laugh
    and suck at his
    bloody fingers

    Ol’ Bloody Brush
    was a celebrity
    around the
    He never had
    to buy a
    drink for
    There was always
    someone to treat him,
    an admirer
    a fan, a disciple

    Yeah, at 66
    Ol’ Bloody Brush
    was living the life
    unlike other wannabe
    artists who devoted
    their existence to
    the craft and got

    These guys,
    they had the talent
    and the drive

    bout Ol’ Bloody Brush,
    he had the madness

    and the world
    was coming to learn
    the difference

  • smart dead man

    7 November 2019 by

    In the afterlife the creatures that
    gathered around him
    asked, “Why did you do it? Why
    did you jump in
    front of that train?”

    He shrugged. “Life wasn’t
    worth living anymore. And I wanted


    “Yes, revenge.”

    “On whom?”

    “On the man driving the train, obviously.
    My wife was divorcing
    me, a lawyer, to be with a
    locomotive engineer. Can you believe that?
    So I had to do
    something about it. I jumped in
    front of his train
    and now he’s got PTSD, depression,
    he’s about to lose his job,
    my wife has second thoughts
    about being with him. His life’s nasty, alright.”

    “Woah… you’re a smart man.”

  • another bulimic princess

    5 November 2019 by

    mashed potatoes
    poached eggs
    and some homemade garlic sauce
    but no meat for the
    princess’s sensitive stomach

    “I’m full,” she said

    “No, you are not,” said mother. “Eat up. Finish
    everything from your plate
    and trust me, it’s been calculated. It’s
    the right amount. Now eat up.”

    Father agreed. Being a step-father he
    didn’t have much of a say in this
    matter or any other

    It took the princess another twenty
    minutes to finish the
    food from her plate
    and then stood
    and went to the bathroom but
    it wouldn’t be that simple. Mother had to go in
    with her

    And she did
    and both of them came out and
    the princess went to her
    and mother started cleaning the table
    always just one step away from
    bursting into tears
    which gave her new husband some work
    with emotional support and all

    A princess doesn’t steal
    but this was a desperate princess
    she locked the door to her room
    and pulled out from under her
    shirt the
    roll of plastic bags
    took one
    opened it
    sat on the bed leaning forward
    elbows on knees
    face before the bag

    and she didn’t even have to
    put the fingers in her mouth
    the vomit just came
    every bit of mashed potatoes
    and poached eggs and every pea
    and the homemade garlic sauce

    She tied the bag
    it felt very warm in her hands
    placed it under her bed
    got her phone and sent a text

    in twenty-something minutes
    he was under her window
    and she threw him the bag of vomit
    and he walked away with it
    carried it to a trash bin far from her home

    He was such a sweet guy for
    doing all this for her
    He was her prince
    Except he still kept his frog form
    even after all the kisses and blowjobs
    after school

    but well,
    when you’re desperate…

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4 thoughts on “DR Bogdan

Add yours

  1. Hope things are cool and hot DR., I’m a bit curious, I was looking over your work, and wonder if you do any strip writing ? I ‘m working on a book that will be a finish play. I don’t want it to get to much graphic dialog but need the iron words to push these concepts. Any suggestions. Like instead of B, or F, MF, I thought Bush Wet, Funk n Fish, Mold Food, well if you get a minute, Thanks.


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