Flies buzz around my face, occasionally alighting on my brow or cheeks, but I pay them no mind. I remain absolutely still.
For I am hunting Kent Wayne—science fiction author, top-rated Man Whore, and professional idiot.
I steady my hands as I load an enchanted cartridge into my rifle. It’s a special bullet—a team of wizards has managed to compress the essence of several dozen grammar handbooks into its mithril casing. Right now, Kent is procrastinating—crying, masturbating, and watching 50plusmilfs while he stuffs his face with a fresh slice of pizza and bemoans his lack of story ideas.
I line up the red dot with his right buttcheek, squeeze the trigger, and…BANG! Inject him with enough information about Oxford Commas, the failings of sentence fragments, and an extensive knowledge base detailing when to use “me” vs. “I” to send him spiraling into a psycho-existentialist crisis.
The effect is immediate. His prodigious wiener recedes from his kneecaps and turtles up into a tiny, stunted nub. His well-muscled body writhes and spasms, turning from a healthy piece of soccer-mom man-meat into a dad-bodded vajeen-dessicant. He gimps to his door and swings it open, fixing me with a feeble, old-man gape.
“What have you…what have you…”
“Grammar Nazi Prime sends his regards,” I reply. I tip my index and middle finger up to my brow and throw him a loose, casual salute. “Enjoy the rest of your joyless existence, fuckwit.”
But then he opens his eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Skeins of aetheric light begin streaming across him, infusing his withered body with unimaginable strength. Coarse hair sprouts across his limbs and torso, and his jaw grows thick and prothagonous. In a matter of seconds, Kent Wayne has morphed into his prehistoric, nine foot tall, gigantopithecus ancestor:
I turn around and start sprinting, but he cuts off my escape by bounding into the air and landing directly in front of me.
“L-look,” I stutter, raising both hands up protectively in front of my chest. “I have money. We can make a deal. This doesn’t have to—”
And then he flips his giant, ape-man foreskin over my head, plunging me into a dark world of unspeakable smells and mind-bending evil.
NO! MRRFF! MRRRGGHHH!!!
Do you need to deal an ignoble death to a hired gun and send your lifelong enemies a clear and unmistakable message? 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! 😲💪 😜