“Get the hell outta here, you dang-blasted whipper-fucks!”
I shake my cane at a trio of kids on skateboardes. The lead cuntmonkey, Garret Iverson, gives me the finger and yells, “Eat your own ass, old man, Kent! You gray-pubed son of a whore!”
I rise out of my well-loved porch rocking chair, unscrew my colostomy bag, and chuck it at the insolent cockmonger. The bag bursts open in a big ol’ splatter of poopy-pee-McGross. HEH heh heh! Wallow in filth, you uppity young heathens!
“That’s what you get for fucking with me! Goddamn pissants!” I scream, shaking my fist at them.
Garret howls in rage. He and his fuckwit goons come tromping up to me, their eyes smoldering with the wrath of a thousand exploding suns.
“That is IT, old man,” he hisses. “Don’t think that being a geriatric will—”
“Bring it on, you dungtick yanker-stain!”
My inventive insult gives him pause. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He cocks his head, puzzled.
“Privilege of being old man, tit-dribbler. I get to tell you to fuck off in the craziest language possible.”
“Well your crazy-ass babble ain’t gonna save you, Kent, because we’re about to—”
“The fuck it won’t, you moldy piece of crotch-fur!”
Then I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
As my wrinkled old body begins to grow younger, getting all muscly and veiny and delectable, Garret’s mom runs onto my lawn holding a giant firehose. She pulls back on its reinforced lever, hosing these pus-snorters down with a relentless torrent of high-pressure water.
“MOM!” Garret screams. “WHAT THE FUCK!”
“That Man Whore is MINE, you worthless oxygen thief!” Garret’s mom rasps through gritted teeth. “Not only is his upcurved wiener beyond compare, I happen to like his old guy babble!”
“Yeah!” I punch the air with my fist. “Show that foreskin-sniffer what for!”
Garret and his cronies run off like codwalloped bitches, and his mom turns off the firehose. She marches over to her Volvo, gets in, and honks the horn.
“The fuck are you waiting for?” She throws me an impatient look. “This vajeen ain’t gonna fill itself, Man Whore!”
You’re damn straight it isn’t! I jump in the passenger side door, a mile-wide grin plastered onto my face.
*1930s porn music*
(1930s—that’s right. Old man Kent’s gotta keep it real.)
Is the latest generation of new-fangled monkey-holes trying to crawl up your ass and give you a hernia? 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 If you wanna hear me babble on about anything and everything, and strain my FREAKIN’ BRAIN, then here’s a link to my podcast: Strained Brains! It is on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, and Google Play! Please give it a listen and a five-star review! Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human: Optimization, and last but not least, 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! 😲💪 😜