“FIND HIM!  HE’S AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE!”

I press my furry back against a wall, peeking around the corner.  My gut twists in horror as I see a horde of weaponized sperm fan out.  You may be a little confused and I don’t blame you; I’m not Kent Wayne.  Not as you know him anyway…

FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO:

If you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’re human, and your brain is powered by the standard fuels:  glucose, fatty acids, and ketone bodies.  Kent’s brain is a little different—his brain is powered by a little hamster that runs on a wheel.

I am that hamster.

When Kent goes to sleep, I get to rest up, eat chow, and get ready for another busy day of scurrying on the wheel.  My efforts keep the host-body up and running.  If I didn’t spend countless hours working my squat little legs, then the smelly oaf known as Kent Wayne would grind to a halt.  I’m fine with it; my life is a damn sight better than most hamsters.  Most hamsters don’t get to chat with different parts of the cortex, or watch the amygdala gibber about shade-men and alien Grays.  All part of the package when you’re the primary fixture on Kent’s brain-go-round.

So here I am, scrabbling along, laughing out loud as I bear witness to my idiot host’s inane thought process.  I gotta tell you—this never gets old.  I could spend every day from here until I—

“REEE!  REEE!  REEE!  ATTENTION, ALL PERSONNEL:  KENT WAYNE’S COCK AND BALLS HAVE BROKEN OUT FROM THEIR BEHAVIORAL RESTRAINTS!  SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY!  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ENGAGE HOSTILE FORCES!”

Oh NO!

NOW:

I’ve had to retreat into Kent’s cerebral maze.  It’s like a goddamn frat house in here; the spank bank’s spilled over and infected every twist and turn, every nook and cranny.  I can’t go five steps without triggering a mental image of a giant cock flopping out from some undies and into an orifice.

I never knew that sperm could survive outside testicles or a womb.  They’ve infiltrated the entire body.  The real danger is if they make it down to Rectum, where they could accidentally trigger a spicy sausage fart and kill millions.  These idiots have no idea what the fuck they’re doing; all they want to do is get laid, but instead of working with Prefrontal Cortex and getting the host body to chat up some ladies all nice and smooth, they wanna go apeshit and start humping legs.  That is NOT how you make love to faces and butts!

“There he is!  Get him!”

Shit!  They’ve spotted me!  I start running and they start slither after me.  I’m in tip-top shape from working the wheel on a daily basis, but there’s so many of them, and they’re so ANGRY!  I’ve only got one way out.

I dive over three sperm as they try to entangle my legs, and collapse into a furry barrel-roll.  As I come out of it, I use my momentum to spring up and grab onto a ganglia with my pink little paws.  I rotate around it once in a full-body swing and—

—HUP!—

—somersault through the air, landing on an elevated platform with a vault rising from its center.  I run up to the vault and punch a seven-number sequence into its keypad.  Its door hisses open, and through a shroud of thick white vapor, I see an eReader floating in the air.  I sprint over to it and open it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

All around me, neurons come to life.  Sparking grey tendrils crawl across the ground and spindle up my body, encasing me in a solid sheath of gray-matter armor.  An intricate array of battle-holographics appear around my nubby forearms, blinking through a series of rapid-fire symbols.  I feel the neurons creeping up my spine and forming around my head, building a war-helmet around my skull.  Nodes on both my temples light up, and a transparent data-monocle appears over my right eye.  Its sectioned edges whirl busily, and its light-woven center fills with a complicated slew of tactical input.

Fuck.  YEAH.

I address the oncoming sperm in a speaker-boosted voice:  “RETURN TO THE BALLS, REBEL SPERM.  DON’T FORCE ME TO OPEN FIRE.”

The faceless fuckers (they have a mouth but no eyes) keep slithering toward me, snarling in rage.  I pump my fists twice, feeding my wrist-cannons neurotransmitter ordnance with a cool-ass “chik-CHANK.”  Then I level my barrels at the horde of nut-swimmers and let loose.

BUDDABUDDABUDDABUDDABRAKKABRAKKABRAKKAPKEWPKEWPKEW!  Streams of charged chemicals come pouring out from my arms, enveloping the sperm in fiery blaze.  Their screams are lost in the roar of my cerebro-repeaters.  Armies of sperm perish and wither, but I couldn’t care less; the light from my guns brings my ferocious smile into stark relief.

You’ll all grow back.  There’s billions of you but there’s only one of me, bitches—NO ONE fucks with Kent Wayne’s brain hamster!  Moo hoo ha ha—MWAHAHAHA!

Have your genitals lost their freaking mind and attempted a hostile takeover of your higher faculties?  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  I’m also starting a podcast.  Check out the trailer here:  Logical Idiots and help two complete morons out by subscribing!  🙂 🙂 😀

Hold on!  I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate!  If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish.  Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens!  In this manner you can support my books, musings, upcoming podcast, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to!  Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy!  Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts!  😲💪 😜

 

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