Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

My name is Bizz-Buzz McCockBump.  Wish I could claim credit for that, but at the same time, I’m honored that the name was bestowed upon me, rather than dreamt up in the annals of my chitin-covered brain.

I’m a mosquito.

Why the name?  Because I’m a freakin’ artist with my proboscis.  I seek out males of the human persuasion—specifically those who are about to go on a date—and pepper their wiener with unsightly bites.  After I’m done, I’ll trail them to their romantic rendezvous, then watch in glee when they whip out their bite-riddled dong and elicit a horrified scream from their paramour-to-be.  As I just said—I’m an artist.  I’ve manufactured the just-right mix of proteins in my saliva; I can reliably induce the appearance of some crazy-ass STDs.  So yeah, after I’m done sipping blood off a cock, it looks like it’s been infected with a potent blast of gonna-syphi-herp-alAIDS.

BOO yah!

My current target is the overmuscled goof known as Kent Wayne.  He’s humming the Batman theme to himself as he busily strokes his upcurved wiener, getting his pre-date jerk in before he meets up with his long-time lover:  Soccer Mom Prime.  After expelling a disgusting amount of seminal fluid into a sock that’s as brittle and unstable as a million-year old jenga structure, he sets his alarm, then collapses back onto his futon and falls asleep.  What an idiot.

Time to strike.  I gain altitude from the other end of the room, so as to lengthen my glide and reduce my hum.  As I alight on his smelly wiener, he twitches in his sleep.

“No Martha Stewart, not in the ass—I promise I’ll be good…”

I instantly freeze, aware that I’m in danger of dying the most ignoble of deaths:  smashed flat against a vast expanse of unwashed dick-skin.  After a hanging moment, his head falls back and he resumes sawing logs.

WHEW!

I rub my front legs together and let out a gleeful cackle.  HEH heh heh!  Time to honeycomb this disgustingly large penis with a goddamn horror show of pustulant lesions.

I flick the tip of my proboscis with my front leg, checking to see if the salivary glands are fully primed and ready to go.  Yep—a drip of protein-filled spit gleams off the end of my beloved skin-sticker.  Now I just have to—

Kent stirs in his sleep; his hand flops over to his eReader and accidentally opens it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

“WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER???”

His wiener rears up and I tumble off its head onto Kent’s wrinkly sack. The dickhead glances left, right, then locks onto me.  Its pee-slit narrows in clear displeasure.

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME, INSECT?”

“Please, your Majesty!”  I raise both of my front legs in a don’t-fucking-smash-me gesture.  “I was just passing through!  Spare me my life!”

It stares at me for a long, protracted moment.  Then it says:  “MY NATURE IS TO SMASH.  I SMASH ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING PLACED BEFORE ME.”

“I have something you desperately need!” I squeal.

“THEN SPEAK, INSECT.  AND BE QUICK ABOUT IT.”

I don’t really have anything; I was just trying to buy some time.  As I take to the air, I catch a brief glimpse of the overhead light before Kent’s wiener eclipses it with a horrifyingly recognizable mushroom-headed silhouette.  I’ve made it to the kneecap before—

—WHAM!—

—I’m smashed against it’s hairy surface.  My wings are still 60% functional, and the adrenaline is still pumping through my body, numbing the pain.  I take to the air again. 

If I can just make it as far as—

—WHAM!—

—this time I’m smashed against the ankle.  Everything goes numb below the neck.  The wiener rises up one final time, and I curse my own arrogance.  Before I attacked Kent Wayne, I should’ve remembered a universal truth, one that’s as eternal as E=mc^2.  A truth that can be summed up in a single sentence:

Kent’s wiener SMASH.

And then it all goes—

—WHAM!—

…

Are you being harried by horrid little bloodsuckers?  Do you need to guard your sleeping form against their devious ways?  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!  😲💪 😜