I’m running across a frozen tundra, fleeing from an army of soccer moms that have had enough of my stupid ads. Β They’re inΒ sleds that are leashed to packs of snarling husbands, half of whom are wearing Gimp masks. Β Normally I ‘d be able to outrun a sled pulled by scrabbling suburbanites on all fours, but these things have spent long hours on their knees, and can move quickly whileΒ bent over (insert cheap joke here). Β I slip and fall, and before I can get up, see the shadows of my pursuers glideΒ across the ice and draw long in front of me. Β The lead soccer momβyou know her; PTA tyrant, expert in rumor-to-rumor combat, a sneer behind every smileβgrins at me and cracks her whip a foot from my head. Β I look from face to face, desperately seeking a hint of mercy or succor. Β Crossfit Mom gives me a wink while three of the hus-beasts mouth, “Kiiiiilllll meeeee,” and shed a single tear down one cheek. Β I open my eReader to Echo. Β Magic flash. Β I see a single seedΒ of organic, free-range, fair-trade, farm-to-table, blessed-by-GiadaΒ quinoa fall from the sky, catching the sunlight in a slow motion spin. Β Suddenly the suburbanites are tearing at each other, trying to lay claim to that tinyΒ fleck of yuppie noms. Β In the midst of the carnage, Crossfit mom jumps off her sled, slings me over her shoulder, pats my butt, and runs off while I’m sporting anΒ ear-to-ear grin.
For every gang of suburbanite sled-hunters that chase you down, there is a magic piece of quinoa that will cause them to turn upon each other with a horrifying quickness. Β GetΒ Echo Vol. 1 on KindleΒ here: Β Vol. 1 on Kindle. Β Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Β Vol.2 on KindleΒ Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Β Vol. 3 on Kindle


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