Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel


Irma Horfendorf, the purported love of my life, delivers a sound slap to my right cheek.  My head swings violently sideways, and a man-bitch whimper flies from my lips.

She shakes my script in front of my face, thumping it repeatedly against my forehead.  “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WRITE A ROMANTIC COMEDY, KENT!  WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???”

I raise a hand to the goose egg rising on my cheek. “There’s romance in it,” I whisper timidly.  “If you turn to page 143—”

She flips open the binder-clipped document, her eyes bugging out with fury.  “Oh—the part where Voltron makes out with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?  Or how about the part where Batman’s on his knees, tights around his ankles, while Catwoman’s tugging his cock and eating his ass from behind?”

“That’s the erotica part,” I protest.  “Kids are into rimming these days.”

“IT’S FUCKING PORN, MORON!”  She throws the script at my head.  I narrowly avoid it by ducking sideways.  She levels a quivering finger at me.  “No more action scenes.  No more philosophical BULLSHIT.  No more of your x-rated, Calvin and Hobbes-tainted imagination spilling into your writing, you hear me?  From now on, you WRITE WHAT I SAY!”


“No ‘buts,’ motherfucker!  And I want the grammar to be PhD-thesis perfect—no sentence fragments, no internal thoughts denoted in italics, NONE of that, Kent!  Am I understood?  Say yes, or—”

“I just—”

“Oh you are in it for it NOW, dick-leak!”  She rolls her sleeves up her forearms and starts tromping toward me.

I try and run, but she shoots a hand out and grabs my ankle.  Unless I pull a Hail Mary out from betwixt the cleft of my muscular buttocks, I’m about to get beaten so goddamn bad that not even a Congressman’s health care plan will be able to cover my injuries.

So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Martha Stewart flies in on a tricked-out X-Wing, throttling down the quad-foil thrusters, bringing the ship gently down onto my lawn.  As the canopy lifts up, she takes off her helmet.

“What the fuck?”  Irma pauses above my fetal-positioned body, looking back over her shoulder.  The Food Network Goddess jumps down from the starfighter’s cockpit.

Martha kicks my door in with an insider-trading-honed thrust kick—ba-BOOM!—and walks past the calf-high cloud of dust that puffs up from the falling door.

She stops in the entryway, fists clenched by her sides.

“Let the Man Whore go.”

Irma chuckles derisively.  “Not a chance.  You honestly think your batshit crazy can trump mine?”

“I’ve built my insanity over dozens of years—decades of pretending to be a demure housewife.  I’ve trained with the hardest cons in maximum security.  It’s not that you don’t have a chance..”  Martha smirks, and her voice lowers into a gritty rasp:

“It’s that you never had one.”

“RUAAAAHHHH!!!”  Irma rushes her, spittle flying from her lips.

Martha snarls and meets her charge, hands chopping the air.  When they’re within arms’ reach of each other, Martha shoots low, grabs Irma by the waist, and arches back into a spinning suplex.

Stewart’s war-cry is nothing short of spine-chilling:  “ASSAAAAAA!!!”

I flee out the door, blubbering and crying, as my hardwood floor cracks and splinters from the thunderous crash.

Dear God in Heaven—WHAT HAVE I UNLEASHED???

*Theme from Requiem for a Dream*


Do you just wanna write some dope-ass fiction, but your crazy AF Ex wants you to adhere to some soulless, boner-withering/vajeen-drying format dreamt up by tweed-wearing professors?  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 Omnibus here:  Echo Omnibus  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!  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!  😲💪 😜

3 thoughts on “Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

  1. No one, and I do mean no one, would EVER refer Martha as a Goddess, Food Network or otherwise. Strike 1.
    Oh. But then you go and redeem yourself with “… soulless, boner-withering/vajeen-drying format..” So you’ve been pardoned…. for now. But I’ve got my eye on you, mister.

    Liked by 1 person

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