I’m knocking out pull ups at the park, grunting out the number, “—fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—” when a hot-as-balls soccer mom walks by. I start belting out the count, “THIRTY FIVE! THIRTY SIX! THIRTY SEVEN!” with a few extra reps added in. I drop off the bar, put my hands on my hips and throw her a wink. OH yeah!
She sits on a bench, clicks her phone open, and my thoughts begin racing: which exercises are gonna give me the best chance of success? Since I’m surrounded by underage kids, lariat tricks with my ankle-length wiener are gonna go over as well as a mustached pedo in a black-paneled van. Gonna have to use some subtlety here…hmmm…
I rip off my shirt (always a good go-to) and start with some yoga, calisthenics, and sprints. As I run through my routine, I notice her looking at me every now and then, a slight smile curving her lips. Sweet! I take it as an indication to ratchet things up. I start throwing in some of the martial arts tricking I used to do when I was younger: kip-ups, twists, tornado ki—
Something in my spine has gone completely haywire. I fall to the ground, gasping in pain. The soccer mom runs over.
“Oh my God!” Her face is a study in panic. “Are you okay???”
I squinch my eyes open. “Everything’s numb…can’t…move…”
She bends down and grabs my womb-hammer. “Can you feel this?”
A single tear trickles down my right cheek. “No.”
She stands up and gives me a disgusted look. “Then you’re useless.”
As she walks away, I howl in agony. “No! NOOOOOO!!!!”
Only one option left. With a monumental effort, I will my hand to reach into my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
HOACHI MAMA! I spring to my feet, completely healed. The soccer mom turns around, astonished. At the same time, a dozen yoga moms come running at me from every direction, pawing my body and kneeling at my feet like in those cheesy ’70s movie posters depicting an alpha male hero surrounded by scantily clad women.
The soccer mom opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with: “Nah—you’re useless.”
She walks away, head hanging down in abject disappointment.
Fuck outta here with your soccer mom BULLshit—I got YOGA moms! HEH heh heh! 😀
Have you crippled yourself trying to get laid, and now need a rando AF deus ex machina to restore your genital-smashing prowess? 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 🙂 🙂 😀
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! 😲💪 😜