I finish reading the rest of my chapter, expounding on the glories of giant robots and bigass laser guns.
“So that’s what I’ve got.” I look around, surveying my writing group. “What do you guys think?”
Pained smiles and tepid grins.
The moderator says, “Ah…don’t you think that’s a little shallow, Kent? We don’t write stories to indulge in childish fantasies—we write to explore the ineffable beauty threaded into the very core of the human condition.”
(“Don’t write stories to indulge in childish fantasies?” HORSESHIT—I’m a professional Man Child, goddammit!)
But that’s not what I say. Instead, I wrinkle my brow and adopt a look of polite puzzlement. “Um…okay. Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. What do you guys have?”
The moderator nods at the third person to my right: a dude whose face is filled with handfuls of piercings. “Straylight?”
Straylight gives us all a serious look with his mascara-lined eyes. He flips his hair back and clears his throat.
I brace myself for an onslaught of pay-attention-to-me shit-drivel.
“A-HEM. A-a-a-HEM!” A ruffle of pages and a long, humorless sigh. “The cantada of lusk, ever more loam, tearing the sky whilst raping the grommets.”
What. The FUCK.
“Elk horns sound, bugling a wash of unrequited rendition…serotonin re-uptake initiated. Fly, fair criminals! Fly!”
He stands up and flaps his arms, turning his pasty face upwards and yelling, “Ca-CAW! Ca-CAW!”
Oh no—I know what this is.
“Rot-colored orbs, blast the tape to diamonds…”
My vision goes blurry. I fall from my chair and blood spills from my ears. I try to scream…but nothing comes out except a long, drawn-out moan.
“The ceaseless engine that shits on our oculus, organs moving within the great Astral.”
EMO-POETRY! I’VE BEEN TRICKED!!!
“Rye on fingernails, screeching apart dogs one by one…”
I cough up a chunk of bloody organ.
Straylight grins at me. “This is what you get, Kent! This is what you get for writing coherent narratives that don’t wallow in a shitty stew of indulgent emotions—THIS IS WHAT YOU GET, MOTHERFUCKER!”
I manage to gasp, “Please—can’t…take…any…more…”
His smile grows wider. “I’ve got ten more pages.” He clears his throat. “Where doth the chitin go when the moon barks nigh? How fragile our sinews! How fragrant our salts!”
“Nooooo…” I moan. “PLEAAAASEE….”
He crouches down and grips my cheeks with a vitamin D-deprived hand. “Pledge allegiance to Emo, Kent. Bow to your sensei—BOW TO YOUR SENSEI!”
Only one option left. I reach into my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
A pentagram-lined portal opens up in the midst of our writing circle, and Satan steps out, his hoofs clacking heavily against the linoleum floor. His gaze settles on Straylight and his eyes widen in surprise.
“What the FUCK?” he sputters. “Dude—emo-poetry isn’t on the schedule until the next apocalypse! I appreciate the enthusiasm…but you are WAY off the reservation, buddy!”
Straylight straightens up and stammers, “I’m sorry, Lord of Thorns. I just thought you’d—”
Satan shakes his horned head. “Nah bro—you were briefed when you decided to go emo. You’re gonna get the mando punishment— a few thousand years in the Ninth Ring.”
Straylight starts blubbering. “No milord—PLEASE!”
The Dark King sighs. “Them’s the rules. Now let’s get going before I have to add extra barbs onto the fire-hydrant cocks that are gonna rip through your bung.”
He grabs Straylight by the hair and drags him into the portal, kicking and screaming. The last thing I see is his snarling face.
“DAMN YOU KENT WAYNE! DAAAAMMMMNNNN YOOOOUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuu—”
The portal closes, then winks out of existence. Whew!
That’s what you get for siding with the Endless Dark, you emo dickface!
Is your sanity under assault from a Hot Topic-clad, mush-mouthed Emo-poet? 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