The other day I’m in my old high school.  I see Chuck Norris through the gym door, hopping in a stationary circle, throwing head-level roundhouse kicks.  He glares at me and kicks my way, and a gust of wind slams the door in my face.  Three days later, I muster the balls to return.  He’s still there, hopping and kicking in place.  He looks at me.

“Make me cry.  Use zen themes and cyborgs.”

I knew what to do.  I showed him a copy of Echo, available here or on Amazon, and he read it in 0.38 seconds.  A single tear slipped from his face and as it fell, I caught it in a cup.  Later I sold that tear and it was enough money to put down on a house.

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