“I don’t get it, Kent,” my writing circle facilitator, Alastair, says. “How can you keep writing about your wiener, giant robots, and astral adventures? We’re all stuck writing about mildly traumatizing experiences we’ve had in everyday life, but you’re consistently churning out these weird-ass stories. What gives?”
“BDE,” I reply.
“B D what?”
“Big Dick Energy.” I shrug. “Comes with a girthy penis.”
“BDE is overrated,” Herman Snerdbert sneers. “What really counts is the proper use of commas, lack of sentence fragments, and—”
“Lack of SENTENCE FRAGMENTS?” I snort. “Get the fuck out of here. I use those things like they’re going out of STYLE, brah! Look, maybe if you started eating steaks and doing some squats, then you’d also get some a’ that BDE.” I throw out some watered-down gang signs. “Know whu’m sayin’?”
“I agree with Herman,” Alastair says. “Your use of sentence fragments is atrocious. And it’s not an anomaly—the whole writing group feels the exact same way.” Alastair’s remark is met by a chorus of nods.
“Wait a second…” my eyes narrow as I study their faces. “You’re not real writers…” My eyes widen in horror.
“YOU’RE GRAMMAR NAZIS!”
I shoot up from my chair and run for the door. Pasty, LDE-filled bodies (doesn’t take a genius to figure out what LDE is—HEH heh heh! 😉 ) come rushing at me, filling the air with hideous snarls. In a matter of seconds, I’m being dragged across the floor into a medieval torture room that would give Marsellus Wallace PTSD flashbacks from his time with The Gimp.
“Let’s fill his skull with red-ink cum!” Alastair shouts. The rest of them immediately begin chanting:
“RED-INK CUM! RED-INK CUM!”
“No—NO!” I scream. “YOU FUCKERS GET THE HELL AWAY FRO—”
Then they all drop their pants. A long, involuntary howl bursts from my lips.
Instead of wieners, they’ve all got wicked-looking red-ink pens hanging from their pelvises.
No options left. I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
The 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky comes to life all around me as sacks of protein powder materialize in the air and begin bursting open. The Grammar Nazis cough and sputter, then begin burning and shriveling like vampires in sunlight.
“MUSCLE-BUILDING AMINOS! THE BANE OF MY WITHERED GENITALIA!”
I hum along with Tchaikovsky like Peter Griffin in full-on Annoy Lois Mode, closing my eyes as the masterpiece reaches its bombastic climax. OH yeah!
Have malicious-minded Grammar Nazis gotten their filthy, red-ink-smeared paws upon your person? 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 Vol.4 on Kindle here: Vol. 4 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! 😲💪 😜