HOLY HELL! Being chased by a buncha emo-poets that are super-pissed at me for being an optimist. Normally I’d be able to outrun and outfight them (or simply go into the sunlight, which would wreak havoc on their mom’s-basement-pasty skin and cause them to scream like tortured gargoyles) but nothing pisses off an emo-poet like someone who’s optimistic and actively pursues their passions. Their hate has given them the endurance of a methed-up Dean Karnazes. I look back and see rabid, mascara-lined eyes closing on me. Open my eReader. Magic flash. My hand is filled with a glowing, scintillant sphere of light—a potent mix of laughter and vitamin D. I chuck it at my pursuers and it disappears in a giant flare. They stop in their tracks. Their black nails and mascara disappear, then they start sobbing and making out with each other. Also gross. Now I’m fleeing in disgust, but at least I’m safe! Booyah!
Got some woe-is-me-the-world-doesn’t-understand oxygen thieves on your tail? Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle.


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