Remember when 3PO is getting escorted through Jabba’s palace in Return and he sees that power droid getting branded? Remember how it screamed as the hot metal pressed against its feet? That’s what I sound like as Martha Stewart lowers a stylized loop of heated iron—in the shape of “M-Diddy,” of course—onto my bare ass. “Nononono No! NO! NO! NOOOOOAHGODWHY!!!!” The metal makes a sizzling noise as it presses against me, and the smell of roasting meat fills the air. In the not too distant future, Martha has taken the world by storm with her innocuous-at-first-but-ultimately-evil empire. There is no more cheap takeout, no more eating NYC style pizza and enjoying the latest offerings from Netflix; there is only…MARTHA. “Get up Kent,” she spits disgustedly at me. “For God’s sake, it was only the outer cheek; it’s not like I branded the ring of your anus.” A wicked gleam shines in her eye. “But keep writing those stupid ads—or for that matter any of that dreck about cyborgs and wizards—and I might go a little…inward with the next one.” I stumble off to my section of Martha’s internment camp—Bake School X305 Charlie—with my bare ass exposed so that my clothes don’t rub against my freshly burned ass-cheek. “Wait!” she calls out. “I’ve changed my mind. GETOVERHERE!” Apparently, M-Diddy has learned how to how to throw a barbed grappling hook—just like Scorpion in Mortal Kombat. As it flies toward me I pick up a forgotten, trod-upon eReader in the dust and open it to Echo. Magic flash. Chuck Norris appears, kicks the hook out of the air, and exchanges a vicious round of clinch-work, wing chun sticky hands—and of course some old school American haymakers—with her. She does the Agent Smith thing and hits him in the chest, sending him flying backward. He coughs blood, wipes it with his fingers and then stares at it. He looks at me and yells, “Get out of here Kent! I always knew fighting her would be a one-way ticket! Go!” He reaches in his goofy-yet-manly sleeveless denim jacket. A second later both of his fists are filed with WWII era hand grenades. He yanks the pins out with his teeth, flips the spoons off, and charges toward her. He screams, “SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!” A few seconds later, I see evil incarnate vanish in a ball of orange fire, courtesy of the world’s greatest hero.
When your butt cheeks (or the ring) is threatened, who will YOU depend on to yell a badass catchphrase as he saves your purity??? 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