Night falls.  It’s Thanksgiving, and all across America, soccer moms lay down their forks and knives and emerge from their Black Friday larvae.  Against the backdrop of fading dusk I hear the terrifying howls of newly born Mom-rachnids.  I’m driving home from the Barnes and Nobles (Yes, sometimes a night out for me is chillaxing at the local B&N, don’t judge) nervously checking my rearview.  When I see nothing behind me, I breathe a cautious sigh of relief.  Almost home; now I just gotta—suddenly, a fell wind rocks my car and I hear a giant-sounding THUMP on the roof of my jeep.  My windshield spiderwebs as a Mom-rachnid bashes into it, grabs the hood of my car, and yowls fiercely at me.  “GIVESSS USS THE DISCOUNTS!” it hisses.  My eyes lock onto a Martha Stewart head on a Shelob body (read your LOTR if you didn’t get that you philistines!).  I’m screaming bloody murder, swerving from side to side.  An insectile foreleg punches through my windshield and I duck sideways.  The leg continues past me and takes off the headrest on my seat.  I open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.  A shirtless Ron Swanson descends from the heavens and chokes the shit out of the Martha-thing.  He breaks its neck with a quick, backward yank of his choke-arm and kicks it off my jeep.  Two Mom-rachnids leap through the air at Ron, who stands on my hood and raises upturned fists like an old-timey boxer.  A bolt of lightning blazes through the darkened sky, and for a second, everything jumps into stark relief.  I see Ron’s glorious mustache lift in a smile; he’s loving every second of this.  As he gives the spider-things a giant heaping of What For, I thank the powers that be for sending me this whirlwind of outdated mayhem.

When you’re attacked by a herd of spider-demons, make sure you summon a cantankerous fuddy-duddy who’s 90% fueled by bacon.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle