Sally straightens up, projecting every ounce of her seven year old tyranny, and declares, “We don’t want to play with you anymore, Bruce. You always take all the black clothes and tough-looking dolls.”
Bruce Wayne—my best buddy and lifelong friend—presses his lips together. He’s only six, and as such, is unable to resist the monstrous power of Sally—Queen of Nap Time and Recess. I know he’s not good with words or conflict, so I rush up to his side and level a finger right at Sally’s stupid dumb face.
“Bruce’s playtime is WAY cooler than yours! Who CARES if he takes all the action figures! I’d rather watch his re-enactment of multidimensional combat than your stupid tea time bullsh—”
“Don’t cuss!” she snaps at me. “Have you forgotten we’re all in elementary school, stupid? We’re still learning basic arithmetic, not this ‘string theory’ doody you’re always babbling about! Oh, and YOU’RE not allowed to play with us either, Kent! All you do is have the dinosaur toys mount our Barbies and talk about some disgusting scenario where they make half-dinosaur babies!”
My face turns beet red. “THE EARTH WILL SOON GIVE RISE TO DINO-HUMANS! JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE TOO PEA-BRAINED TO—”
She claps her hands twice, and a dozen of her suburbia-spawned thugs—I recognize their captains; two monster eight-year olds named Blake and Logan—come trundling up to her side. Holy shit—they may only be eight years old, but they’ve got fully defined six-packs, and their polo shirt sleeves are clamped tight around their rippling biceps.
I whisper to Bruce: “These glue-sniffers will be easy pickings for us in about a decade or so, when they’ve gone full-on Douche-bro. But for now we should just let them have our dinosaurs and superheroes. We should—”
His ice-blue eyes steel over. In that gravelly rasp he will one day be famous for, he mutters, “Not a chance.”
Sally scoffs. “You’ve both had your warning. Blake…Logan…” She turns sideways and shoots her index finger at us. “BEAT THEIR ASSES!”
“FUCK YOU!” I scream, trying to fend them off with the few moves I’ve learned from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Blake catches my tiny leg and sweeps me off my feet. He quickly mounts me, and I have no choice but to turtle up to protect my face from a storm of blows. Through the flurry of hands and feet, I look over at Bruce and see that he’s in the same situation.
No options left. Unless…
I reach deep in my psyche for a concept that will one day slake the world’s craving for robo-beasts and blaze avatars. It’s a story called Echo, and unbeknownst to me (up until this very moment, anyways) it has the power to distort reality itself.
Magic flash.
A giant clown busts through the wall, hazing the air with broken wood and powdery concrete. The kids all stop and stare, then he starts mowing through them like motha fuckin’ Zangief on a cocaine bender, throwing invulnerable spin-punches and 360 pile drivers.
Sally and her gang scream in terror—not just from the clown’s brilliant martial arts acumen, but also from his horrifying appearance. In short order, her entire gang of miscreants has been laid low or made to flee.
Bruce and I rise to our feet. The clown locks eyes with Bruce.
“I’ll come for you one day,” Bruce rumbles. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow…but one day.”
The clown searches my friend’s face for a long moment…then he smiles.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Then he walks out through the hole in the wall and disappears.
I rub dust off my face and look around. Then my eyes widen in astonishment.
Before us are piles of discarded dolls, action figures…and—OH YEAH—plastic dino-toys!!!
“Holy shit!” I exclaim, looking at Bruce. “Treasures beyond imagining!”
He meets my eyes and grins. “Best. Playtime. EVER!”
We dive into the hoard of amaze-balls toys and start constructing elaborate stories with Barbies, He-mans, and Barrels-O-Monkeys.
And you had best believe that in every single one of those stories, the world bore witness to the rise of dino-humans.
Has some tiny tot tyrant taken over your well-deserved playtime through the use of a thuggish cadre of numbskulls? 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
Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 
Okay. I am so glad I follow your blog. I wasn’t even trying to stalk you this time. It just popped up as I logged in. LOL I was giggling through this entire thing. Ever thought of doing comedy?
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I would love! In person, though, I’m not really social (but anecdotally, I’ve heard that a lot of comedians are this way). I’m a devoted follower of Joe Rogan and Duncan Trussell! 🙂
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Could make a YouTube channel. I’d totally follow as would millions of others (evil laugh…but in a good way.)
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I dunno…I’ve got bitchy resting face, LOL! I always appeal to women who like a dark streak in their man. I can’t deny that it’s there, but honestly, I’d rather just spend my days wrassling with dogs haha!
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LOL@ bitchy resting face. You could do dark comedy. :p What kind of dogs?
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I like em all! I make fun of chihuahuas a lot but I just like goofing around with a bunch of fuzzy, smelly monsters! 😀
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Don’t own any muts? I mean, dogs :p
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I’ve owned 4 over the last ten years with my ex. When we divorced, she took the two we had, said I could see them, then changed her mind. The big one recently died, but the little one is still with her. The big one was a Ridgeback mix, and the little one is a cairn terrier mix. I basically did most of the raising and caring, and they knew how much I loved em, so I’m not sad. It’d be nice to see the little guy, though. He’s who Bitefighter’s based on.
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Well, that was a sad story. 😦 Joint-pooch custody rarely works. I’ve known of a few people who were cordial and kept up their ends of the deal, but I’ve seen someone friends get down right nasty with their exes for not letting them see their dog. Like really nasty! 😮
Plan on getting a dog, again? If so, what kind?
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It’s actually my primary goal as far as making money, LOL! I wanna get my own place in SF where I can have a dog and maybe my own home gym (if you know anything about SF real estate, you know this is a bit of a pipe dream). My main thing is I’d like a dog that’s physically easy to control, but not frail, I’m thinking 20, maybe 30 lbs. at the most. I prefer long-hair, because they don’t shed as much. Honestly though, I’ll probably just look for a rescue and go with whichever mutt steals my heart. 🙂
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I did the same thing. Had this plan of what kind of dog, ended up on Craigslist and voila. LOL
Hopefully your dreams come true. Even if they seem far away. I’m rooting for you. ❤
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Thank You! And yeah, I think the dog kinda chooses you, at the risk of being corny. I’m rooting for you too!!! 😀
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No. That isn’t corny. The dog has to like you or you end up mauled into bits. lol
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True! Apparently there’s been a lotta problems with people picking dogs using the checklist approach. I’ve been privileged to have wonderful dogs of all shapes and sizes. 🙂
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Yeah, checklist only works if you want a show dog.
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Aw, I’m jealous. Your writing is so pretty and neat and orderly.
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Is it really??? Thank you! I really just spew out whatever inane ideas happen to be in my head, LOL!
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Well, I like your writing. I think it’s sexy.
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Hahaha! Thank You—what a compliment! I just have fun with it, but I’ll take sexy! 😀
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Marvelous fun!
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Thank You Ms. Louise! 😀
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Brilliant and hilarious as always
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Thank You Gold Girl!! 😀
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