I’m hiking around Golden Gate park with my confidant and buddy, my 10 lb. terrier Bitefighter, when suddenly, in the loom of the evening sunlight, I see the shadows of strollers stretch across my path.  A chill goes up my spine, and down by my ankles, Bitefighter lets out a querulous, worried grumble.  Suddenly I hear:  “That’s him!  The writer-guy that keeps insulting our husbands’ micro-phalluses!”  I’m about to yell back that I don’t talk smack, that it’s their husbands who keep surreptitiously pee-checking me in the bathroom thinking that I don’t notice, but I bite my tongue as I see them slinging packs of raw, dripping organs into the cavities of their strollers.  I hear their infants’ voices rise in an unholy chorus, and one of the soccer moms scream:  “BRING ME HIS ENTRAILS!”  Suddenly the trees are rustling as little wiry demon-babies are pursuing me and Bitefighter like chimps after colubus monkeys.  I’ve seen the documentaries; I am NOT gonna go out like that—that’s like being the token minority in a horror movie!  I start running like a bat out of hell.  The trees are erupting with demon-baby screeches, the last rays of the dwindling sun dance across the trail, and Bitefighter is trying to keep up as best he can, but ragged, oxygen-starved pants are flying from his whiskered face.  Only one option left:  I open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.  A holopanel time dilator appears in front of me; apparently, by twisting its central knob, I can speed the lifespans of these demon-babies.  I fast-forward their life, and they start dropping from the trees, instantly transformed into Dilbert lookalikes.  Their expressions are vacant, beaten down by years of officework.  I fast-forward a bit more, and now they’re mid-level managers, faces drawn and haggard from decades of powerpoints and TPS reports.  They all collapse, sobbing, screaming one word:  “SEPPUKU!”  If I had a wakizashi, I’d give it to them.  I almost feel sorry for ’em as me and Bitefighter beat feet and make our escape.

Sometime within your life, according to Statistics, you risk a 78% chance of being accosted by demon-babies in the park.  Make sure you have a holographic time-dilator at the ready.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle