Christ. Every time I service Martha, it feels like I was just ravaged by Ferdinand the Bull. It’s worth it, though—selling my wiener and butt to the Food Network icon finances my literary endeavors; without catering to her sick perversions, I wouldn’t be able to pump out stories about robots and barbarians.
There’s a price for everything, I guess.
I’m at the airport, waiting for the TSA agent to beckon me forward into the body scanner. As the guy in front of me puts on his shoes, I step up.
“Morning, sir. Raise your arms above your head.”
I do as I’m told. Suddenly, the agent behind the monitor stiffens in his seat. He gestures to his coworker.
“What the FUCK is that?”
A second agent shuffles up to the monitor. His lemonade snapple drops from his numbed, terrified fingers.
“My God,” he whispers.
The agent closest to me whips out a pistol and assumes a ready stance. “DON’T YOU FUCKING MOVE! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”
“This has to be a mistake,” I babble. “Look, I’m just a—”
“HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! ON YOUR KNEES, FUCKER!”
I drop to my knees and place my hands atop my head. “If you could just tell me what—”
The agent at the monitor swivels the screen around, showing me an x-ray display of my body. Lodged in the rectum is a giant, pulsing head.
Martha Stewart’s head.
And it’s grinning at me.
“RUAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” Martha begins erupting from my buttocks, face first.
I fall onto my belly, gasping and mewling in nerve-wracking pain. Somehow, she’s used her insider-trading magic to bury herself in the depths of my asshole. Holy mother of FUCK—it feels like someone’s pulling a string of anal beads out from my butt-pucker, only each bead is as big as a prize-winning watermelon.
Martha braces her palms against my hamstrings, continuing to scream like an angry T-rex as she enacts a disgusting version of Andy Dufresne’s escape from Shawshank.
“Fuck house arrest,” she says, rising to her feet. “No one puts Martha in the corner.”
The TSA agents train their pistols on her. Their hands are quivering.
“Don’t move, convict! Remain where you are until—”
There’s a blur of motion. The agent’s mouth becomes a gaping red pit. My eyes track to the back of his head, which is now a bloody nightmare—a horrifying wound ringed by crags of bone and bits of brain.
Martha’s just punched him in the mouth. With enough force to break apart his scalp.
“WEAPONS FREE! WEAPONS FUCKING FREE!”
Loud gunshots fill the air as the agents empty their clips. Martha’s hands move in a light-speed blur, grabbing rounds out of the air in darting, flickering snatches.
When they stop firing, she straightens up and grins.
“Advantage mine,” she rasps.
She flings the rounds back at her attackers. They jerk and riddle like a trio of bank robbers in a suicide by cop scene.
Then she looks at me. Red light glints off her pupils. “Come here Man Whore. I wanna fuckstart your mouth.”
This is beyond bad. So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Steven Seagal rappels through the airport window, wearing nothing but a whip-cream speedo. He charges past Martha just as she’s about to grab me, slathering his funky, smeg-seasoned armpit across her face. She stumbles back, sputtering and coughing.
“I’ll kill…I’ll KILL…” the rest of her sentence is lost in a series of unintelligible curses.
Seagal looks back at me over his shoulder, full-blown panic etched onto his features. His cool-guy facade is gone and it makes perfect sense—Martha Stewart is not to be fucked with.
“RUN, KENT! I’LL HOLD HER OFF AS LONG AS I—”
Martha growls like Batman and spear-tackles Steven. As he lands on his back with a pained “WHOOF!” I flee from the airport, blubbering and crying.
Dear God in Heaven—DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN!!! WHAT HAVE I UNLEASHED???
*Climactic section from Carmina Burana*
Has some deviant celebrity managed to smuggle themselves into your ass, and is now threatening the entire effin’ world? 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 kentwaynebrain.com! Go check out his computer-based wizardry 🙂 🙂 😀
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