FROM THE DIARY OF KENT WAYNE:
Why do people love comics?
Plenty of reasons. The pictures. The stories. The fact that they’re one of the few remaining formats that encourage professional artists to push the envelope of their creative boundaries.
I use them for one reason and one reason only:
As reading material. To help me poop.
Nice. Slow. Deep. Breaths.
Lamaze motherfucker—remember your LAMAZE!
Christ it hurts! It’s like Godzilla’s hatching open in my b-hole!
Oh no—the head has crowned! I look down through my legs. A feces-crafted visage grins up at me.
“The death of worlds, Kent! You ate one too many spicy sausages this time—I will escape this toilet and bring about THE DEATH OF WORLDS! Mwahaha—MOO HOO HA HA!!!”
“THE FUCK YOU WILL!” I scream back, and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Chuck Norris bursts into my bathroom and rips out of handful of enchanted beard. He presses it against his mouth and his nose, nullifying the scent of my Evil Ass.
“GodDAMN, Kent!” he exclaims in a beard-muffled voice. “You have GOT to stop eating spicy sausage!”
“Help me!” I beg, tears streaming down my face. “This thing is going to kill us all!”
His flag-pupiled eyes steel over. “Not on my watch! ’MERCA!” He runs over to me and begins roundhouse-kicking the air above my legs, face-blasting the shit-creature with a denim-powered tornado of eighties-style karate-fury. As the fecal demon is forced down into the water, it screams and hisses.
“DAMN YOU, KENT WAYNE! I WON’T FORGET THIS! THE SON WILL HAVE HIS VENGEANCE AGAINST THE FATHER! YOU TRAITOROUS MOTHERFU—”
Chuck’s last roundhouse-kick slaps the toilet lever, causing the waters of my industrial strength toilet (not just an option, but a goddamn requirement in the Kent Wayne household) to suck my shit-baby down into a watery netherworld.
“Quit yappin’, you commie pussy!” Chuck snarls.
I slump in place, utterly exhausted. “Thanks for saving the world, Chuck. Again.”
“No problem, you weak-sauce millennial! How about we go lift some weights so we can stare in the mirror and jerk off to our freshly pumped physiques?”
I lift my chin and give him a ragged smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
“That’s what I’m talking about! Eighties high-five!”
And so, after exchanging the cheesiest of slow-motion high-fives (if you need a mental reference, think about that eyebrow-raising volleyball scene in Top Gun), Chuck and Kent lifted many a weight, and released many a sperm. Then they rode around on robot dinosaurs, and defended the space princess Aleria Malthusian from a foul horde of penis-shaped invaders.
But that’s a story for another day. 😉
Is your b-hole about to give birth to an enormous force for unbridled evil? 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 Also, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com! Go check out his computer-based wizardry 🙂 🙂 😀
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, 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! 😲💪 😜