I finish scratching the last of my story onto the cave wall. Not a bad day’s work for a 350 lb. simian.
My name is Kunko Wunko, budding author and big ol’ gorilla, at your service. I spend my time eating tasty grubs and bananas (I like messing with words, so I enjoy calling them nannerbans or nabanos), and collecting chalky rocks or errant fragments of burnt trees, with which I inscribe tales of glory onto any stones that are wide and flat enough. I’ve just finished writing about a vengeful robot boy with a giant hog (yeah yeah—my stories gravitate toward robots and giant penises; go ahead and judge) and now I’m writing the first paragraph of my latest endeavor—a tale spanning 50 worlds and hundreds of lives, the star of which is a cyborg porcupine covered in dicks—when I realize that there are others behind me; their shadows stretch long across my slate.
I turn around to see who it is, and nearly shit myself: I’m surrounded by my exes, all of whom are chimps.
“Whoa.” I drop my piece of chalk-rock and raise both hands up to my shoulders, palms facing out. “I don’t want trouble.”
Flat-face, my most recent ex, laughs dismissively. “We’re not here to rip your nuts off and chew them to a pulp; that’ll happen when you’re least expecting it. The simians around here have been saying you like to write—THAT’S what we’re interested in.”
“Oh, okay.” I lower my hands and rub my neck. “Um…yeah. I like to write. Why? What’s it to you?”
Flat-face steps closer, smiling sweetly. “We’d like you to write for US. Would you do that Kunko? We’d let bygones be bygones if you wrote us a romantic comedy.”
“AHAHAHA!” I throw my head back and roar with laughter. As my laughter subsides, I wipe a tear from my eye. “Sorry Flat-face, but there’s no way in HELL I’m gonna write a—”
I’m cut off by an angry chorus of hoots and gibbers. “FUCK THE PLAN!” Flat-face snarls. “TEAR OFF HIS NUTS! OOK OOK OOOOOOK!”
Oh SHIT! Have you ever been around exes who’re deep in the throes of RomCom fervor??? They are NOT to fucked with! I stumble away and start running.
They chase me in a furious tide of fur and fangs, trampling underbrush as I gallop away on all fours. I see some of them take to the trees, and I intuit that they’re flanking me, trying to herd me into a dead-end—like some kind of goddamn chimpanzee version of Delta Force. If I don’t do something soon, my bulbous, pendulous gonads are going to be gnashed apart by RomCom-deprived exes, each of whom are filled with an anger which can obliterate armies and fell proud, ancient kingdoms (RomCom fervor makes a normal person into the equivalent of one of those fast zombies in 28 Days Later…if that zombie was Hulk fucking Hogan injected with the same steroids they gave to Bane). Yeah—I’m in serious effin’ poop.
So I reach deep into my consciousness and merge with my future incarnation, the sci-fi author known as Kent Wayne. I rummage through his psyche and tap the epic narrative called “Echo,” activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
A blaze of wireframe cyber-armor begins sectioning across me, encompassing my hairy frame in glowing links of psionic light. A holographic data-monocle forms over my right eye, filling my vision with a flood of crisp, glowing information. Targeting reticles appear as circling tick marks that spin across the bodies of each of my exes, then zoom onto their silhouettes, shining brightly to display a lock. A panel of transparent light unfolds across my right arm, assuming the rough shape of a gyrating cannon.
“CEASE YOUR ATTACK.” My voice booms out across the jungle. Startled birds burst from the trees.
“NOT A CHANCE, MOTHERFUCKER! YOU’RE GIVING US OUR ROMCOMS, WITH OR WITHOUT YOUR NUTS!” Flat-face hollers.
A gleaming lever emerges from my right forearm. I ratchet it back, and it emits a cool-ass chik-CHANK; kind of like a mix between a pump-action shotgun and an electric guitar. I point my arm-cannon, flex my will, and—
A scatter of gift cards for the mah’fuckin’ Container Store come flying out.
The next volley includes shopping sprees for Ikea, Pier One Imports, and Nordstroms.
Good luck Westfield Mall, Whole Foods, and Barnes and Nobles; you’re about to be visited by my crazy-ass love interests from the days of yore.
And so it goes. My exes stop and stare, spellbound by the rain of yuppie bait. As they gabble excitedly to each other, I turn around and make my escape.
The adventure of Kunko Wunko—budding author, giant-ass gorilla, and perennial Man Child (Ape Child?)—continue! Moo hoo ha ha! 😀
Have you dated people who’ve harangued you to the point of madness with their society-borne desire for mass-produced niceties? 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 Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here: Combined Edition Echo is now available in paperback: Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined edition in paperback #kindle #kindleunlimited #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book