AFTERNOON SHIFT, AT A NEW JERSEY STEEL FABRICATION PLANT:
Machinist Jake Rhodes prepared to go to work like any other day; he threw on a pair of old jeans, weathered boots, kissed his wife goodbye, and grabbed his brown-bag lunch before driving away from his one story craftsman. After clocking in he went outside for a smoke break.
His lighter falls from numbed fingers, clatters to the ground…then dies out on the cold cement sidewalk. His eyes track up to the horizon, and his mouth drops open…
AT A RURAL HOME IN AN IOWA CORN FIELD:
Sally Linklater is all of seven years old. She runs outside and extends her arms, pretending she’s an airplane. Her golden retriever chases happily behind, barking excitedly as they frolic through a field of wind-blown grass.
But when they face east they abruptly halt. All hell is breaking loose across the sky…
INSIDE A SCIF (SENSITIVE COMPARTMENTALIZED INFORMATION FACILITY—CURRENT OCCUPANTS INCLUDE THE JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF, AS WELL AS SEVERAL UNNAMED DIRECTORS OF BLACK SITE PROGRAMS DEVOTED TO THE RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT OF ALIEN TECH):
I hear four-star general Elbert slam the top of the conference table and scream: “We need Wayne, dammit! Where the fuck did he—”
I scoot out from under the table, rubbing sleep from my eyes with the pads of my fingers. “I’m right here.”
He looks me up and down, wrinkling his nose in clear disgust. “Jesus Christ—would it kill you to wear something besides booty shorts and a bow tie? And what is that SMELL?”
“Huh?” I raise my right arm and sniff the pit. “Oh—I was hired by a dozen soccer moms to unleash my glorious secretions into and onto their nubile forms.”
“Wait—” Elbert stiffens in his chair and lifts both arms, elbows bent back. He looks down and his lips curl back in a pained grimace. “In HERE???”
I scratch my cheek. “Yeah—you might wanna douse yourself in bleach.”
“That is IT!” Elbert shoots up from his chair, grabs it with both hands, and chucks it against the wall. “I”ve had enough of your SHIT!!!” Several aides gasp as the chair rebounds off reinforced alloy.
Elbert marches up to me, leveling a shaking finger directly at my face. “I’ve fucking had enough of your cowboy attitude! You rarely shower, you never wear a uniform, and now you’ve unleashed a biological hazard into a highly secure facili—”
When I’ve had fights with girlfriends of yore, I’d revert to one of two defenses: I’d either flap my arms and bug my eyes, flying around the room and crying “ca-CAW! Ca-CAW!” or I’d stick out my butt and chest, throw my elbows back, and engage in some epic booty-shaking that’d rival Beyonce’s best damn backup dancer. The first option would usually earn me a slap in the face, while the second one would evoke unchecked laughter.
So I drop it like it’s hot and shake my badonka-donk. The room erupts in laughter, but General Elbert isn’t amused; he turns beet-red and strides out of the room, swearing up a storm as he slams the door behind him.
“The reason we’re talking to you,” SECDEF says as the laughter subsides. “Is that America is being attacked by hordes of beta-males. They’re tearing apart the fabric of reality with their yet-to-be-dropped testicles, their untoned limbs and androgynous faces, as well as the way they state every utterance in the form of a question.”
I nod gravely. “Well in order to combat their ironic facial hair and critical-thinking-free nonsense I’ll need your permission to unleash my penis from its quantum harness.”
A flicker of doubt registers in SECDEF’s eyes; he knows that letting my penis access its full potential could destroy genetic diversity as we presently know it; all females within a 50-galaxy radius would be instantly compelled to breed with me, which would result in seeding the cosmos with an entire generation of half-siblings. Consequently, the danger of incest would skyrocket; it’d make Game of Thrones look like a night out at the local Chuck E Cheese.
SECDEF glances at his boss. “Madam President?”
She replies with a hint of a smile. “Give him permission. The world’s survival is now at stake. Plus I remember how delicious those throbbing, perfectly formed glans were; I wouldn’t mind seeing them again.”
SECDEF’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Wait—you…” he glances at me, then back at the president. “and HIM…” then he coughs awkwardly into his fist. “Right.” He meets my gaze.
WHEE! I run through the halls, unbuckling my pants and snapping my eReader open to Echo. Its reality distortion powers are the only things that can free my junk from the special access tech that keeps it in check.
Blazing light erupts from the eReader, unleashing the unimaginable glory of my giant hog.
As I exit the building, I see an endless tide of weak-chinned dipshits clouding the horizon, performing that incredibly stupid adorkable chuckle that people somehow decided as the new gesture to convey hipness. I look at these dumbfucks and try not to wince as they revel in their awkward silences and complete lack of confidence.
The head of my dick slips past my waistband and emerges from my shorts. It faces toward me and speaks in a deep, noble-toned voice:
“It is good to see you, old friend. I have awakened from my slumber, and will now aid you in your time of need.”
Then it turns toward the beta-males and unleashes a torrent of pure white light. All across the world, people smile without knowing why, overcome by unexplainable bliss. Clouds part, angels sing, and beta-males scream as they’re dissolved in a wash of merciless radiance. In a few seconds, all is right with the world.
The adventures of Kent Wayne—consummate idiot and perennial Man Whore—continue! 😀
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