Doo be doo be dooo…I’m at the office, wandering down to the basement to get some supplies from the storage locker. I look over my shoulder and see a gang of coworkers following me, avid grins fixed to their faces. Odd, but whatevs…I guess that too many powerpoints and passive-aggressive office politics will make you weird. I’m not worried—under my demure office-drone veneer, there’s a mental switch labeled Ape-Poop-Crazy. If these fools decide to ambush me, they’ll bitterly rue the day.
I whistle the Voltron theme as I pad down to the basement. I open a door into our storage bay, where we share our locker with a bunch of maintenance guys.
Suddenly, the lights go out.
What the hell??? I undo my tie (make sure I don’t get choked), and wrap it tight around my right knuckles, improvising a cast for my hand. I also clutch a pen in my left hand, ready to jam it into an orifice (hopefully facial).
The lights flash back on, blindingly bright, causing me to shade my eyes with a raised forearm. They dim to a low burn and I see my coworkers lined up, but now they’re wearing…
What in the—
“Never,” the song from the angry solo dance scene in Flashdance, starts blasting through the air, and they start going full-on eighties. At first I’m amused; they’re executing karate kicks, an excessive amount of spins, four-limbed spreads in the middle of a jump, and elementary gymnastics (why the hell did Kevin Bacon start doing giants and dismounts in the middle of a dance?). Then their evil eighties magic begins working on me—my hair grows into a bushy mullet, my brain becomes filled with black-and-white cliches that aren’t supported by logic but with simple, catchy cadence, and my pants turn into uber-tight jeans that choke the life from my nuts.
“No,” I hiss. “NO!” In a few more seconds, I’m gonna be wearing a dorky headband and performing naked karate like the bad guy in Die Hard 2, or re-enacting that weird scene in Roadhouse where Swayze’s doing Tai Chi in unnaturally snug pants.
Only one option left: I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
DMX’s 2003 classic, “X Gon’ Give It To Ya,” eclipses their stupid eighties music. Chuck Norris blasts through the skylight in a shirtless denim jacket and fashionably frayed jeans.
“First we gonna ROCK—”
Me and Chuck start mowing through office nerds, smashing faces and beating ass.
“Then we gonna ROLL—”
I lift Herb from accounting up and over my head, screaming in rage as his body extends straight above mine, then I bring him crashing down to the ground in a Zangief-style suplex.
“Then we let it POP—”
Chuck throws a roundhouse, decapitating Chris from Marketing. Chris’s head ricochets off five more coworkers’ heads, knocking them all out like some kind of badass billiards ball.
“GO LET IT GO—”
I rip a left hook into John from Accounts Receivable’s torso, dropping him with a liver shot.
“X gon’ give it to ya—”
Chuck does a jumping splits-kick, ravaging one dude’s solar plexus and another dude’s throat.
“He gon’ give it to ya—”
We make short work of the rest of ’em, beating them into the cold, merciless cement of the storage bay floor. DMX continues barking in the background, and me and Chuck exchange a high-five and share a mile-wide grin.
There’s good eighties cheese…and there’s bad eighties cheese. Make sure you pick the right one. And if you need a little extra kick to your fight scene, consider throwing in a little DMX, just like in that genius episode of Rick and Morty: “Something Ricked This Way Comes.” (the steroid/workout scenes had me in tears).
Have your coworkers lured you into a heinous ambush designed to make you regress into an era that produced some of the world’s most horribly regrettable fashion trends? 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