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As he gives the spider-things a giant heaping of What For, I thank the powers that be for sending me this whirlwind of outdated mayhem.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