I’ve been there.

You’ve been there.

We’ve all been there.

Adulting Academy.

Last time I was here, I made my escape by employing my python-like member to grapnel onto a tree, then across the Academy’s crocodile-filled moat.  I spent a few years living in a happy haze of mountain dew and New York pizza, but the Academy’s cybernetic hunter/killer teams snared me after they lured me into a hammock with a gorgeous soccer mom (always knew they’d use my propensity for soccer moms against my half-wit mind).

And so here I am.

This time, they’re taking no chances.  I’ve been triple-manacled into a solitary cell.  Instead of taking classes with all the other adults-to-be (I’m proud to say that I’ve been held back; my fellow adults-in-training are like fifteen at the oldest, and I’m in my mid-thirties), I’m force-fed gaudy food that always has a fancy French name (and may I say that it is PIG SWILL compared to New York Pizza), and given lessons from a monotoned robot that looks like a suicidal vending machine.  I am meticulously graded on political correctness, body language, and social formality.

Kill me now.

For the last few months, I’ve been assessing the inside of my cell, trying to ascertain if there’s a way to escape.  Simultaneously, I’ve been busting my ass at Adulting lessons, doing my best to appear as if I’ve fallen in line with the other brainwashed students.  I get the feeling the staff is cautiously pleased with my supposed reformation; they’ve ditched the Clockwork Orange-style lid-locks (those spidery metal things which kept that crazy dude’s eyes open) and allowed me to blink during the course of my studies.

The entire time I’ve been here, I’ve been piecing together a story in my mind.  It’s called “Echo.”  Don’t ask me how, but I know that once it’s fully formed, it’ll have an inherently destabilizing effect upon reality itself.  Through the use of the story’s acausal magic, I’m certain that I’ll be able to pull off an escape.

“Kent!” my robot-instructor barks.  “Sit up straight!”

“Yes, RI,” I respond.  (RI stands for Robot Instructor).

“Good.  Now recite the corporate buzz-words we went over during your last lesson.  For each mispronunciation, or for each delivery which falls short of ‘annoyingly cheerful,’ you will suffer five lashes from our resident torturer Brutus.”

I force a bright smile onto my face and begin reciting long chains of office catchphrases.  I’m about a quarter of the way through when I suddenly feel it.  No.  No!

Not now!

My butthole begins twitching, dilating and contracting like the fucking Sarlacc Pit Monster.

I can’t help it.  I use every ounce of focus to muffle the sound of my fart and expel a silent cloud of methane directly into my seat.  Sweat springs out across my brow.  I made sure it was soundless, but still…

All RIs sport a holographically projected head atop their frame.  My RI wrinkles his brow and screws up his face.  A series of diodes light up on his chest.

“Kent…did you just…my olfactory sensors are registering something that…”

His eyes fix directly onto mine.  He screams, “YOU DID, YOU FILTHY BASTARD!”

SHIT!

No options left.  I close my eyes and imagine the last pieces of Echo into place, activating the story’s reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

My velociraptor buddy Bitefighter crashes through the wall.  Both his arms are gatling laser guns, and his legs are rocket-powered jet-skis.  He turns his guns on my RI and riddles the jerkoff with an assful of laser.  Once the machinistic prick is nothing but a smoking husk, Bitefighter gnaws through my restraints and motions for me to climb up onto his back.  I hold up a finger in a “wait” gesture.

I quickly change into my Man Whore uniform:  mask, booty shorts, and bow tie.  Then I climb on.

He rumbles, “Grrawr.”  (Translation:  there’s lightsabers attached to each of my flanks.  If you make pkew pkew noises with your mouth, their blades will fly off, boomerang through our enemies, then come back and re-attach to the hilts.)

Sweet!  I unclip the lightsabers and we charge through the halls of Adulting Academy, slicing and blasting through a horde of soulless Adulters.  The walls echo with the nonstop fury of gatling lasers and the vmm-vmm-vmm of my merciless Jedi swords.

Pkew pkew pkew!

I will NEVER be an adult!  😛  😀

Has Adulting Academy hunted you down and forced you back into its dungeons?  Never fear!  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 #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book