Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Five minutes ago I was in English class.  The professor had been expounding on the virtues of “The Rules” and I’d been nodding off from the sheer tedium of the blabbety blabbety blah.  When I excused myself to go to the bathroom and splash water on my face I accidentally nudged his pencil container on his desk, causing it to move precisely 0.3 millimeters off from its original position, as well as skew it clockwise by 0.8158 degrees.  He’d gritted his teeth, hissed in fury, and recalibrated the position of his pencil container while giving me a death-glare.  After I’d gotten back, I started nodding off again.  Finally, he’d closed his eyes and slammed shut the Rule Book (one of many) in his lap with a murderous sigh.  What came next was a complete shock—he’d reached in his desk and procured an Indiana Jones-style bullwhip, snapping it out at me and nearly catching me across the cheek.  The sonic boom from the whipcrack caused my ears to pop.  Whirling the whip over his head, he’d proclaimed “KENT WAYNE!  WRITING ABOUT GIANT ROBOTS AND NINJA CYBORG SOLDIERS IS NOT IN THE CURRICULUM!!!”  He gave a quick look to the other students, then screamed, “GRAMMAR NAZIS—AT HIM!”  Desks overturned in a thunderous clatter.  I leapt over mine (parkour!) and scrambled out of the room.  As I entered the highway, Bitefighter (my loyal buddy and 10 lb. Terrier Extraordinaire) raced up to my side and I asked him, “What the hell are you doing here little fella??”  And he replied:  “Arf ruff McArfsky!”  (Translation:  I could smell Grammar Nazi on you whenever you came home from English class so I decided to tail you ‘cos I feared for your safety….or maybe he was just saying he was hungry; I don’t know.)  And now here we are:  crowded into a small janitor’s closet and looking through the bottom vent, horizontal lines of light cast on our faces as we watch the Grammar Nazis slowly spread into the hallway and look for us.  Bitefighter whispers, “ruff.”  I distractedly reply, “shhh,” then I realize what he’s saying.  I turn to him and whisper furiously, “You stole a burrito?  And it was doused in sriracha and green chiles??”  He replies:  “ruff ruff b’caaaww.”  (Sometimes he makes chicken noises.)  I whisper back, “And it was also filled with ghost peppers???  Well our lives are in danger so you’re gonna have to hold it, dammit!”  He gives me a mournful look, closes his eyes, and his head begins vibrating with the strain of holding back a cloud of Fresh Ass.  The seconds tick by and he finally opens his eyes.  He gives me a mournful look as if to say “I’m sorry friend,” then lets it rip:  beeeeeeoooooOoOOOOOOOORRRRRK’BOOSH!  Oh God it’s too much—I smack the closet door open with my shoulder and me and Bitefighter come tumbling out, our eyes watering.  The Grammar Nazis look shocked at first, then disgusted…then pleased.  My English professor strides up to me.  “Anything to say before we subject you to a lifetime of red ink and righteous essays, Kent?”  Even though a mess of snot and tears is streaming down my face, I manage to reach in my pocket and open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.  A bandolier of aerodynamically shaped ghost peppers appears around Bitefighter’s waist.  He looks down at it, up at the Grammar Nazis, then a fierce smile spreads across his doggy lips.  He runs forward, kicks up into a twisting back flip, and reaches into the bandolier with Dark Knight precision.  He flings ghost peppers toward the Grammar Nazis like throwing knives.  They spiral through the air and slip down each of our assailants’ throats.  For a few seconds they look puzzled, then they begin gagging and clutching their stomachs.  Lethal clouds of butt begin erupting from their backsides, filling the hallway with stank that the CDC would instantly deem a Level 4 hazard.  The professor is on his knees, bawling like a baby.  As me and Bitefighter beat a hasty retreat we hear his pained scream:  “OOOOOHHHH GODDD!!!  WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US???”

Have you offended a Grammar Nazi?  Defend yourself with a ninja terrier that can use ghost peppers as if they were Batarangs.  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


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