Ah Christ, I’ve been sucked into the sperm-count-lowering netherworld that is Office Politics, and been forced to attend a company gathering at the local water park. Management has decreed that us peons will discuss company operations between mandatory water-slide breaks every twenty minutes. Sounds fun, right? Not necessarily—any fun activity can be mashed into bits, turned into a pile of rank, steaming poop, and ejected right back in your face if uptight nerds are running the show (ask any vet—95% of the time, the military manages to leech the fun out of every “cool” thing you see in the commercials. And no—there’s no cool Gatorade-commercial lighting or Michael Bay-style spinning shots like you see in the ads).
So I’ve just finished discussing something super-boring (think I heard “mergers” and “operating cash flow” in there; yeah—my piece turtled into itself like a suicidally depressed sock-roll), and now it’s my turn to go down the water-slide. Finally. A few seconds of zooms to take my mind off the daily hell of passive-aggressivity that threatens to dry my balls into withered, raisin-like pits.
As I close my eyes and get on the slide, I hear my boss—Senior Accountant and Professional Dick-Hole Herbert Kornfeld—yell from behind me, “Hey Kent! How many diarrhetic kids does it take to ruin a water-slide?”
I turn my head and look at him. What the Dark Knight is he babbling on about?
He hoists a green-faced boy up to his chest. The kid looks sick as hell, but still manages to give me a sinister grin.
“JUST ONE!” he screams, then throws the boy down the slide right in front of me. As the boy squirts down the slide, I hear him groan and let out a giant, air-ripping fart.
I try scrabbling up so I can avoid going down a bacteria-laden shit-slide that could rival the filthiness of any fourth-world brothel. The lifeguard in charge of the line shoves me back down and yells, “NO! Sir, you have to go down the slide! It’s a safety hazard not to!”
I scream back, “SAFETY HAZARD? I’m about to get cholera here, douche-face! Get the fuck out of my—”
The lifeguard toots shrilly into his whistle, and backup lifeguards swarm to his side, pushing and shoving me onto the slide. I try to employ some basic jiu-jitsu and grab some position, but my feet slip on wet plastic and I go tumbling back. I begin streaking down a slick blue path that will most assuredly ruin my intestines.
Panic widens my eyes as I see it come into view—a long trail of green-brown slime that looks like the leavings of a giant evil snail. I’m racing toward it with no options left.
Suddenly, my loyal buddy and 10 lb. Terrier Extraordinaire Bitefighter backflips up from one of the waterslide support struts. (How does he always know where to be so he can save my ass?) Everything goes slo-mo as he twists through the air, backlit by the blazing summer sun. One of his hands extends towards me. An object arcs across the vast blue sky, and suddenly…
It thups into my chest. My eReader.
I open it to Echo. Magic flash.
I go full-on Dark Phoenix Jean Grey as cosmically-charged, telekinetic fire erupts from my form. I levitate above the slide, my eyes crackling with bursts of dark energy made visible, as well as miniature white holes that blink in and out of existence in blinding glimmers. A multitude of hands point at me as the light pouring off my body mutes the sun’s radiance.
I see Herbert’s terrified face among them and grin.
Using my newfound powers, I telekinetically gather all my shitty coworkers into a giant, airborne ball of moronic group-think, then I plunge them into the water park’s wave pool.
“Please don’t drown us!” one of them yells.
“It was just a joke!”
“We’ll stop emailing you during off-hours—”
“—your own corner office!”
“More stock options? I can make that happen! You don’t have to—”
A savage grin lights my luminescent features. “I’m not going to drown you,” I reply. “Just give you a taste of your own medicine.”
I use my powers to levitate every child present—most of them chowing down on corn-dogs, churros, and other forms of organ-killing comestibles—and dunk them into the wave pool. I swirl everyone around, infusing the pool with the foul bacteria that pours off the kids’ booger-eating fingers, as well as their window-licking mouths. My coworkers begin screaming and begging. After a few minutes, I let them go, all of them desperately needing shots of level-4 antigens from tier-one CDC personnel.
For the next several weeks, I’ve got the office to myself. The rest of my coworkers are busy trying to purge their bodies of worms, chestbursters, and various other parasites.
Ahhhh….nothing beats annoying coworkers like an odious medley of colonic death.
Are your coworkers trying to sabotage your life with one of their gross-ass kids that could easily qualify as a biological weapon? Never fear! Echo can turn you into a quantum physics-defying force of nature! 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 #kindle #kindleunlimited