Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

“God DAMMIT, Kent!  What the FUCK are you doing?  You can’t just—”

“Back off Snerdbert.  We just survived a plane crash, bro, and now we’re stranded on a desert island.  Fuck off.”  I turn my back to him and stare into my iPhone, which is currently playing a 5-starred scene off Fiftyplusmilfs.

He voices a disgusted scoff.  “You’re an asshole, Kent—a masturbation-obsessed piece of—”

I start pumping my wiener with my right hand, getting it ready to use as a devastating weapon against Snerdbert’s mouth.  He continues ranting at me; I was never a team player, he can’t believe that I lucked into a corner office when he’s been with All World Compliance for five years longer and eaten way more managerial ass than I have, he doesn’t understand why I get laid off some corny jokes and tight-fitting shirts while his awesome Lexus barely gets him a glance from some banged-out barflies…

Almost there…almost…haHA!

As my balls lurch, I swivel around and point my meat-saber at Snerdbert’s face, giving its veiny shaft one last tug.  SPLOOSH!  His eyes widen in horror…then I spackle his powerpoint-worshipping mug with a thick blast of ropy jism.

HEH heh heh!

 

FOUR HOURS LATER:

Somehow, in the brief time we’ve been marooned on this island, my coworkers have procured a set of war drums.  As I run through the jungle, the air thunders with relentless percussion and furious whoops.

Snerdbert’s amassed the rest of my coworkers into an angry mob.  They’re the modern day equivalent of those pitchfork-wielding shitbirds who couldn’t stop fucking with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.  Yeah I have a thick, upcurved wiener, I enjoy working out, and I spend a large chunk of my life on Fiftyplusmilfs—who the fuck CARES?  Leave me alone, you goddamn fascists!

I splash through a shallow stream, then scrabble up the muck-laden bank.  As soon as I take my third step, something tightens around my ankle, and—

FUCKLES MCSHITBAIT!

—pulls me toward the sky.  Now I’m ten feet off the ground, rotating slowly in place, held aloft by a long, sinewy rope.

My coworkers emerge from the shadowy underbrush, holding various instruments of cubicle-borne madness:  staplers, paperweights, three-hole punches…

“Well well well.”  Snerdbert chuckles.  “What DO we have here?  Turnabout’s fair-play, Kent.  Just because we’re on a desert island doesn’t mean you get behave like a heathen; we have to maintain a semblance of civilization out here or—”

“We have plenty of food, asshole!” I shoot back.  “There is no WAY I’m gonna be part of a desert island version of Accounts Receivable!  Are you out of your FUCKING MIND?”

Snerdbert’s face darkens with rage…then a malicious smile widens his lips.  “Well in that case, we’re gonna have to sacrifice your wiener to the Island God Balmat.”

“Island God?” I sputter.  “There’s no such thing, you fucking—”

“SILENCE!”  He slashes the air with a rigid hand.  “WE’VE REPLACED OUR FACELESS CORPORATE MASTERS WITH A DESERT ISLAND ANALOGUE!  HOW DARE YOU QUESTION OUR UNTHINKING ALLEGIANCE TO AN IGNORANCE-RIFE PARADIGM!”

There’s no arguing with this island-crazy dick-sniffer.  So I reach into my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Viagra, ambien, antidepressants, and a host of other yuppie candies come pouring down from the sky.  Snerdbert and his lackeys run to and fro, opening their mouths and gulping down as much as they can.  In a few seconds, their “sanity” is restored.  They all exchange mortified looks.

Snerdbert’s the first one to speak.  “Well, ah, I guess we should swear off this whole island-god castration thing and start figuring out how to build some kind of office out here.  We need to incentivize each other to do some deep dives—start ideating ways to move the needle and amplify our bandwidth.”

The others murmur their assent.  After they wander off, I manage to free myself and make it back to the plane.  There is no WAY I’m going back to working in some cubicle-riddled hellscape!

Not when I’ve still got access to Fiftyplusmilfs!  😀

 

Have you been marooned with a gang of your worst coworkers?  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!  😲💪 😜

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