“Yeah so we’ve decided to give you some more vacation days, let you do your writing as long as you’ve done your work, and move you into an area that has some natural light.” These words come from my boss, who smiles as he scootches his glasses up his nose with a manicured forefinger. “Really?” I ask. My voice is skeptical; I can’t help it. “NO!” he screams. At the same time one of his goons yanks me down by the tie, slamming my brow against a steel desk. As my vision fills with stars, I see another one of his minions fumbling for my belt buckle with one hand, while clutching a hooked cucumber in the other. This is bad; not just for my well-being, but for my butthole’s as well, apparently. At this point they’ve got me stretched out, face-down, spread-eagled onto the conference table. That hooked cucumber drifts out of my line of sight. I’m squealing like a stuck pig as scenes from Oz flash through my mind. I manage to rip an arm free and grab my eReader out of my pocket. I open it to Echo. Magic flash. Ninjas crash through the office windows, unhook their abseil harnesses, and promptly proceed to begin laying the smackdown. In the ensuing flurry of punches and flip-kicks, I see my boss trynna make a run for it. Not so fast buddy—I grab the hooked cucumber and chuck it at his fleeing backside. It sails end over end like some depraved sodomite’s boomerang, and jams itself into my boss’s unholiest of holies, re-enacting an approximation of that one scene from Deliverance (you all know what I’m talking about) only this time for vegetarians.
Hooked cucumbers: The dirty, expose-worthy secret behind office life. Thankfully, there’s a solution. 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