YUM! Steak! Medium rare—like it damn well should be! I’m cutting into a work-of-art rib-eye and bringing a perfectly seasoned, gorgeously seared piece of cow closer to mah belly, when suddenly, I see the shadows in the steakhouse pooling together. WTF??? It’s like I’m watching evil, Sauron-inspired versions of the T-1000 in the form of gloomy shades that gather and thicken. I see them condense into outlines of pony-tails, skinny-fat….VEGANS! Weird, sorcerous-ass constructs that I suspect can only be vanquished by a Holy Sword +3! (Yep, I’m open about admitting I played a bit o’ D&D as a kid; as long as I stay yoked, I feel it adds novelty to me rather than loserliness, haha!). One of the shadows blurs toward me and backhands my forkful of Delicious away. He upends my table and mashes his foot down on my beautiful rib-eye. I’m too shocked to do anything; I’m still taking in the sight of this human-shaped thing whose features blur and slide if you look too closely at it. A shadow grabs me by the throat and forces me onto my back. Another comes back with a giant platter of Tofurkey links. My head is yanked back by the hair, two fingers slide into my mouth and press down so my lower jaw is hanging wide, and then it begins: An endless force-feeding of Tofurkey links, each one sliding down my throat like some cold, greasy cock of death. Tears are streaming down my face, I’m gagging in utter terror—AAGLAGLAGAGAG—and I feel my body changing with each link it ingests. Estrogen’s raising, nuts are shriveling, say goodbye to last sunday’s squat workout….and the one before that….desire to obsess over Kate Middleton growing….NO. I yank free of the shadows and open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. Jessica Rabbit busts in, dressed up like some sexed-up sorceress, and sends these foul demons back to the Ninth Ring with scintillant blasts from her crystal-tipped staff. She looks grimly at my pathetic, dad-bodded form and injects me with a giant syringe labeled “THE MEATIES.” She throws me over her shoulder, jumps onto her beast-ass unicorn, and we gallop off into the sunset. “Kent,” she says as we take to the sky, “I gotta tell you: The Meaties won’t cut it. You’re gonna need at least a dozen dates with me, all with rib-eye as the entree, in order to restore you to any semblance of manhood.” Fresh tears stream down my face, and I can’t tell whether they’re from relief or gratitude. There is a God.
0.3% of all steak dinners are interrupted by a handful of Vegan Shadow-Beings that will force you to eat Tofurkey. When it happens, be ready. Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle