Death to the Tranny
“The State calls Melissa Carter to the stand”.
I stand at the Defendant’s desk. All eyes are on me. I walk to the hot seat, flattening the wrinkles in my skirt. The action shifts to slow motion and I can’t get it to change back. Panic. Every step takes hours. I hear the murmur of the crowd. They’re judging me, scorning me. They condemn me to hell with every step. I look to the stand. The chair is miles away, wiggling in the hot desert air. My body is dry, my lips parched. I can barely crawl...hot sand burning the palms of my hands. People of the courtroom line up left and right scouring, taunting me, throwing rotten vegetables. Each has his turn, hitting me, damning me to hell or throwing excrement. I barely make it to the stand then collapse as they collectively stone me without mercy. With nothing left I pass out and finally, I die.
“The State calls Melissa Carter to the stand”.
I stand at the Defendant’s desk. All eyes are on me. I briskly walk to the stand. I raise my right hand. It feels good to walk free after being shackled. Painful as they were, the shackles blend well with my light wool suit. My Nine West pumps are shiny black. I’ve chosen a light bronze palette for my face with burnt umber lip gloss.
“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
The Prosecutor takes charge. “Please state your name.”
“Melissa A. Carter”
“Ms. Carter, isn’t it true that some thirty-eight years ago you were born a boy?” A collective murmur fills the courtroom.
“I can’t remember.”
The Judge intercedes: “Ms. Carter, please answer the question with a simple yes or no.”
I choose the most likely answer.
“No”, I answer.
“Oh, really? Not born a boy?" The Prosecutor swiftly pulls a paper from his pocket and holds it up. I know what it is.
“With the Court’s permission I would like to submit as Exhibit A, the birth certificate for Ms. Carter.”
The Judge reviews Exhibit A and the prosecutor continues.
“Now, is it really your contention that you are a woman, even after being presented with such evidence?”
“No, I mean yes…I’m not sure…” I’m stammering.
“Ms. Carter, a direct yes or no is required”, reiterates the Judge.
“But your honor”, I explain, “I can’t answer the question. I honestly don’t know the answer.”
“The Court will infer that Ms. Carter’s ambiguous answer leans to the “no” and will be duly noted. Counselor, proceed…”
“You state you are not a boy. Please answer the following question. Do you have a penis?”
“Excuse me?” I heard him.
“Do you have a penis, Ms. Carter?”
“I should have one around ten tonight.”
“Objection!”
“Sustained. Answer the question, Ms. Carter.” calls the Judge. He follows, “And may I remind you- you are under oath, under the consecrations of God almighty, and the penalty for such desecration to our Lord Jesus and the Holy Mother is hot burning embers up your slut ass for days, till all that’s left of your transgendered pussy is a burnt-out cave. That is of course, just prior to your crucifixion, you miserable, whoring, sinful Jew bitch. So keep your misguided, snide comments to yourself, understand?”
“Huh?”
“Sustained. Answer the question. And may I remind you- you are under oath. Keep it clean or you face contempt of Court. Understood?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Proceed, Counselor.”
“Ms. Carter, I ask you again now, here under oath, do you or do you not have a penis?”
I give a forthright answer; an answer worthy of tombstone inscription:
“I don’t feel my dick makes me any less of a woman”, I state with confidence and conviction. I have neither.
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“OK, yes”, I admit. “Yes.”
“Let the record show Ms. Carter is admitting to his male appendage.”
“Ms. Carter, aren’t you in fact, the owner of a lascivious Internet group, one “SelectSluts4BBC?”
“Yes.”
”Please, tell the Court, and all these fine people, what exactly is ‘BBC’?”
“British Broadcasting Corporation?”
“It stands for Big Black Cock, doesn’t it, Ms. Carter?”
“Who can really say? I mean, what does stand for Big Black Cock? What does it mean, fundamentally, in its purest essence, to stand for Big Black Cock? In some ways, don’t you stand for Big Black Cock, don’t I stand for Big Black Cock, don’t we all, in some global way, stand for Big Black Cock?”
“No.” He continues:
“Your honor, the State intends to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Ms. Carter has violated Article Seven, Section Four, of the great Anti-Transgender Act of 2007. Specifically, Ms. Carter poses as a female when he was born a boy. The Law clearly states such behavior to be treasonous and endangering the morals of society.”
I hold myself with faked dignity. The State continues:
“And so he flagrantly disregards the law and flaunts his deviant gender deception. It is a slap in the face to our State. It is a slap in the face to our great nation, a nation that holds a firm grip on its moral compass, a nation that has suffered at the hands of terrorists, a nation that lost so many dear loved ones. If you will allow me, I’d like to now exploit the sorrow and loss we feel to benefit my case and advance my career. Let us all pray, with a moment of silence, for our fallen heroes from 9/11." A minute of silence is observed…
“It is a slap in the face to the great institution of marriage, a slap in the face to the great game of golf, a slap in the face to the great sport of kick boxing and a slap in the face to our children. Our children are our future…”
“Moreover, Ms. Carter has cast aside any concern for the penalty associated with said deviant conduct; that penalty being death.” I was appointed a public defender. He entered into a plea bargain. He worked out the following deal: the State drops the charges, I still get put to death. He felt it was a good deal and urged me to take it. I preferred a trial.
Over the next week the state systematically laid out its case. I was portrayed as a predator, a wolf preying on society’s sheep, infecting the Innocent with my filthy pictures, my filthy writing and my indecent drawings. The jury deliberated for five minutes, four checking voicemail. My sentence was death, to be carried out in due process. Due process means they fry you first chance they can. I busied myself with unimportant matters… I faced my death the same as everything else- I didn’t.
I didn’t want a Last Meal. I wanted a Last Outfit. They denied me. Execution day came quick. They strapped me in. I was allowed a moment to say something. I forgave my former love, who stomped on my heart like she was putting out a cigarette. I forgave my father, who made being a man seem ugly…and all the people I hurt, I prayed they would forgive me. If there was a God I hoped He would show mercy. Then I felt the surge course through my blood. Smoke billowed from every pore of my precious skin. I lifted from my body and looked down to see someone tortured. Flames shot from her eyes and nipples. I had to look away.
Floating softly to my destination, the sky darkened. Don’t look down, I thought. Wars are being fought. People are being lied to. Children are crying and old people dying. People make love while people get stabbed. The world slowly receded, a spec of dust lost in a thousand other worlds. Souls came and went, buzzing past my ears, their voices clamoring for what they never got. They’re bargaining, begging, pleading, complaining…it’s unbearable. Finally, I saw a clearing. I stood at God’s door awaiting Judgment. Regret filled my heart. Shit, for the things I've done...I would be cast to Hell. I prayed He would take into account my abuse and confusion. I felt that was a legitimate excuse. The door opened. I bowed my head in shame then slowly lifted my eyes...
She was Divine surrounded by the Light of Perfection. The Light of Her silhouette made all else black. Serenity washed over me like rain. She opened Her arms and said to me:
“Daughter”.
“The State calls Melissa Carter to the stand”.
I stand at the Defendant’s desk. All eyes are on me. I walk to the hot seat, flattening the wrinkles in my skirt. The action shifts to slow motion and I can’t get it to change back. Panic. Every step takes hours. I hear the murmur of the crowd. They’re judging me, scorning me. They condemn me to hell with every step. I look to the stand. The chair is miles away, wiggling in the hot desert air. My body is dry, my lips parched. I can barely crawl...hot sand burning the palms of my hands. People of the courtroom line up left and right scouring, taunting me, throwing rotten vegetables. Each has his turn, hitting me, damning me to hell or throwing excrement. I barely make it to the stand then collapse as they collectively stone me without mercy. With nothing left I pass out and finally, I die.
“The State calls Melissa Carter to the stand”.
I stand at the Defendant’s desk. All eyes are on me. I briskly walk to the stand. I raise my right hand. It feels good to walk free after being shackled. Painful as they were, the shackles blend well with my light wool suit. My Nine West pumps are shiny black. I’ve chosen a light bronze palette for my face with burnt umber lip gloss.
“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
The Prosecutor takes charge. “Please state your name.”
“Melissa A. Carter”
“Ms. Carter, isn’t it true that some thirty-eight years ago you were born a boy?” A collective murmur fills the courtroom.
“I can’t remember.”
The Judge intercedes: “Ms. Carter, please answer the question with a simple yes or no.”
I choose the most likely answer.
“No”, I answer.
“Oh, really? Not born a boy?" The Prosecutor swiftly pulls a paper from his pocket and holds it up. I know what it is.
“With the Court’s permission I would like to submit as Exhibit A, the birth certificate for Ms. Carter.”
The Judge reviews Exhibit A and the prosecutor continues.
“Now, is it really your contention that you are a woman, even after being presented with such evidence?”
“No, I mean yes…I’m not sure…” I’m stammering.
“Ms. Carter, a direct yes or no is required”, reiterates the Judge.
“But your honor”, I explain, “I can’t answer the question. I honestly don’t know the answer.”
“The Court will infer that Ms. Carter’s ambiguous answer leans to the “no” and will be duly noted. Counselor, proceed…”
“You state you are not a boy. Please answer the following question. Do you have a penis?”
“Excuse me?” I heard him.
“Do you have a penis, Ms. Carter?”
“I should have one around ten tonight.”
“Objection!”
“Sustained. Answer the question, Ms. Carter.” calls the Judge. He follows, “And may I remind you- you are under oath, under the consecrations of God almighty, and the penalty for such desecration to our Lord Jesus and the Holy Mother is hot burning embers up your slut ass for days, till all that’s left of your transgendered pussy is a burnt-out cave. That is of course, just prior to your crucifixion, you miserable, whoring, sinful Jew bitch. So keep your misguided, snide comments to yourself, understand?”
“Huh?”
“Sustained. Answer the question. And may I remind you- you are under oath. Keep it clean or you face contempt of Court. Understood?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Proceed, Counselor.”
“Ms. Carter, I ask you again now, here under oath, do you or do you not have a penis?”
I give a forthright answer; an answer worthy of tombstone inscription:
“I don’t feel my dick makes me any less of a woman”, I state with confidence and conviction. I have neither.
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“OK, yes”, I admit. “Yes.”
“Let the record show Ms. Carter is admitting to his male appendage.”
“Ms. Carter, aren’t you in fact, the owner of a lascivious Internet group, one “SelectSluts4BBC?”
“Yes.”
”Please, tell the Court, and all these fine people, what exactly is ‘BBC’?”
“British Broadcasting Corporation?”
“It stands for Big Black Cock, doesn’t it, Ms. Carter?”
“Who can really say? I mean, what does stand for Big Black Cock? What does it mean, fundamentally, in its purest essence, to stand for Big Black Cock? In some ways, don’t you stand for Big Black Cock, don’t I stand for Big Black Cock, don’t we all, in some global way, stand for Big Black Cock?”
“No.” He continues:
“Your honor, the State intends to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Ms. Carter has violated Article Seven, Section Four, of the great Anti-Transgender Act of 2007. Specifically, Ms. Carter poses as a female when he was born a boy. The Law clearly states such behavior to be treasonous and endangering the morals of society.”
I hold myself with faked dignity. The State continues:
“And so he flagrantly disregards the law and flaunts his deviant gender deception. It is a slap in the face to our State. It is a slap in the face to our great nation, a nation that holds a firm grip on its moral compass, a nation that has suffered at the hands of terrorists, a nation that lost so many dear loved ones. If you will allow me, I’d like to now exploit the sorrow and loss we feel to benefit my case and advance my career. Let us all pray, with a moment of silence, for our fallen heroes from 9/11." A minute of silence is observed…
“It is a slap in the face to the great institution of marriage, a slap in the face to the great game of golf, a slap in the face to the great sport of kick boxing and a slap in the face to our children. Our children are our future…”
“Moreover, Ms. Carter has cast aside any concern for the penalty associated with said deviant conduct; that penalty being death.” I was appointed a public defender. He entered into a plea bargain. He worked out the following deal: the State drops the charges, I still get put to death. He felt it was a good deal and urged me to take it. I preferred a trial.
Over the next week the state systematically laid out its case. I was portrayed as a predator, a wolf preying on society’s sheep, infecting the Innocent with my filthy pictures, my filthy writing and my indecent drawings. The jury deliberated for five minutes, four checking voicemail. My sentence was death, to be carried out in due process. Due process means they fry you first chance they can. I busied myself with unimportant matters… I faced my death the same as everything else- I didn’t.
I didn’t want a Last Meal. I wanted a Last Outfit. They denied me. Execution day came quick. They strapped me in. I was allowed a moment to say something. I forgave my former love, who stomped on my heart like she was putting out a cigarette. I forgave my father, who made being a man seem ugly…and all the people I hurt, I prayed they would forgive me. If there was a God I hoped He would show mercy. Then I felt the surge course through my blood. Smoke billowed from every pore of my precious skin. I lifted from my body and looked down to see someone tortured. Flames shot from her eyes and nipples. I had to look away.
Floating softly to my destination, the sky darkened. Don’t look down, I thought. Wars are being fought. People are being lied to. Children are crying and old people dying. People make love while people get stabbed. The world slowly receded, a spec of dust lost in a thousand other worlds. Souls came and went, buzzing past my ears, their voices clamoring for what they never got. They’re bargaining, begging, pleading, complaining…it’s unbearable. Finally, I saw a clearing. I stood at God’s door awaiting Judgment. Regret filled my heart. Shit, for the things I've done...I would be cast to Hell. I prayed He would take into account my abuse and confusion. I felt that was a legitimate excuse. The door opened. I bowed my head in shame then slowly lifted my eyes...
She was Divine surrounded by the Light of Perfection. The Light of Her silhouette made all else black. Serenity washed over me like rain. She opened Her arms and said to me:
“Daughter”.
I am particularly proud of the last paragraph of this short story.
Death to the Tranny
by Melissa Carter January 2007
by Melissa Carter January 2007
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