Doo be do be doooo…KW308, spiral galaxy at your service! In my past life, I was known as a prolific sci fi author and top rated Man Whore, but now I’m a freewheeling collection of matter and energy spinning through the cosmos. Huzzah!
My spiral arms are the shapeliest! My star systems are the most perfectly proportioned! I’ve managed to seed dozens of planets with the beginnings of elementary life—ten of them are Type I civilizations, and two are Type IVs! As far as galaxies go, I am hot as BALLS!
Is it any wonder that other spiral galaxies want to merge supermassive central black holes with me?
Anyways, I’m whirling through the blackness of space, throwing out some galactic tides, letting the lady galaxies know I’m down to clown. I get a bunch of winks and “call mes,” and a few of them brush their spirals suggestively against mine. No rush—I’m just enjoying the attention for now. When I was young (like only a billion years old) my supermassive central black hole used to constantly throb—to the point where I could barely do anything at all, like a fifteen year old boy in math class who forgets how to add and subtract ’cause of his raging genitals. Now, however, I’m proud to say that I’ve refined my game. I work out every other day so my spiral arms are thick and delicious, all veined up with beautiful streaks of super hot gas and binary star systems. You’re looking at a three billion year old stud that can redshift and blueshift better than anyone on the dance floor. Watch out!
So I’m doing my thing, checking out the interstellar females, when suddenly I notice a trio of lenticular galaxies come up behind me. These ugly fools usually don’t have spiral arms, or if they do, they’re ill-defined as hell. But I try to be nice about it; I remember how frustrated I used to be when I was constantly deprived of intergalactic ass.
“What’s up?” I ask amiably. “Lotta fine ladies out here tonight, am I right?”
They stare sullenly at me, not saying a word.
“Um…guys? Are you okay?”
Two of them move sideways, flanking me. The one in the center says, “You were a sci fi author in your past life. Do you know what we were?”
I edge backwards, looking nervously from side to side.
In unison, all three of them yell: “GRAMMAR NAZIS!”
Oh SHIT! I whirl away as fast as possible, but they start sling-shotting around each other, increasing their relative speed, using their mass as a three-linked chain of gravitational accelerants. I hear one of them yell, “WE’RE GOING TEAR OFF YOUR SPIRAL ARMS, BITCH!” Another one brays out a laugh and screams, “IMMA GET ALL UP IN THAT SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE!”
Only one option left. I shift my psyche into an acausal state, outside of both general relativity and quantum physics. I access the consciousness of my past life, Kent Wayne, recalling his seminal sci fi epic about giant robots—Echo—and in the process, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Ethereal energies surge across me, pushing me into a starburst phase. Untold numbers of suns begin erupting through my breadth, forming into deadly nucleuses of celestial light. They condense into supermassive black holes—not as big as my central one…but almost. I flex my will, firing up each one’s accretion disc. The lenticular galaxies stop dead in their tracks.
In my best Shaft voice, I declare:
“Prepare for an ass-full of quasar.”
I start blasting these punks with a dazzling array of unbelievably powerful emissions. They barely have time to scream before I’ve ripped them apart six ways from sunday. It’s gonna take half a billion years for them to reconstitute their forms, but you know what?
They deserve it.
I continue on my way, whistling to myself, flexing my badass spiral arms. There are ladies to impress and matter to incorporate.
Goddamn—it is a good day to be a galaxy.
Have you been accosted by some low-down lenticular losers? 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