Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

I’m excited and nervous; Martha Stewart has asked me out on a date.  After wooing me with some of the best heart-shaped cupcakes I’ve ever tasted, she’s driven me in a vintage corvette to Lover’s Overlook, a fifty-foot cliff where randy couples go to watch the sunset, then maybe get to first or second base.

As she cuts the engine on the ‘vette, she throws me a mischievous smile.  I smile tentatively back.  She eases back in her seat, reaches across, and strokes my hair.

“You look beautiful tonight, Kent.”

“Thanks, Martha.”  I giggle nervously, like an inexperienced teen.  “You’ve really inspired me with all your accomplishments.  I never believed what they said about you—all that insider trading stuff, I mean.  I think that—”

“Let’s not talk about that.”  She looks down at her letterman jacket, directing her gaze at the giant “M” emblazoned onto the left pectoral.  “What do you think of this jacket?  Pretty cool, huh?  I got it after I won a cooking Kumite with 300 other world-renowned chefs—stomped those pussies into the motherfuckin’ dirt.”  She turns toward the windshield and scoffs in disdain.  “Goddamn amateurs.  ANYways…” she turns back to me.  “I think you’d look beautiful in it—wanna try it on?”

“Okay, Martha.”  I titter again.  “Wow…I can’t believe you’re letting me put on your—”

“Yep, it’s a goddamn honor.”  She shrugs off her jacket.  “It’s not every day you get to wear the same clothing as an American Icon.  Here you go.”  She holds it out.

I raise my arm up to slip it into the sleeve, and then—

—SHLOOP!—

—she yanks it over my face.  “NNNN!!!  MARTHA—NO!”  I squeal and scream, clawing at the thick wad of fabric she’s stuffed in my mouth.  It’s no use—she’s too freakin’ strong from her time in the pokey.

“Goddamn feds think they can lock me in a cell, do they?  I’ve stored up a helluva lot of aggression, Kent—I’ve ordered a triple-headed dildo called the ‘Cerebrus,’ and Imma ’bout to use it on your sweet, sweet Man Whore ass.  NOW LET ME SEE THEM TIT-TAYS!”  Her calloused hands grab my toned-as-fuck breastises, squeezing them like I was the prize cow at the county fair.

“No—NO!” I scream.  But she doesn’t listen; she’s snaked a hand down the back of my pants, intent on going three knuckles deep, four fingers wide.

No options left.  I reach in my pocket and open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.

Helicopter floodlights blaze through the windows, accompanied by the WHUP-WHUP-WHUP of mechanized rotors.  “THIS IS THE S.E.C!” a voice blares through a bullhorn.  “LET THE MAN WHORE GO, MARTHA!  WE ARE NOT FUCKING AROUND!!!”

I yank the jacket off my face.  She’s squinting upward, snarling in fury.

“FUCK YOU COPPERS!  YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, SEE??”

Then she side-rolls out the door, trailed by little puffs of dirt as they try and nail her with automatic weapons fire.  She transitions into a sprint and shoulder-checks a wide-eyed yuppie—

—“OUT OF THE WAY, FUCKFACE!”—

—hops onto an unattended Ducati motorcycle, and guns the throttle.

Martha pops a wheelie and screams toward the yawning abyss.  When she reaches the edge, she hits a slight incline and arcs high into the sky, backlit by tracers and harsh, halogen floodlights.  She hangs in the air at the apex of her leap, and throws both arms back so she can flip the cops off.

“FUUUUUUUuuuuuckkk yooouuuu….”

Then she hits the ground below.  She’s still alive; I can hear the motorcycle’s engine as she races off into the night.

I’m super confused.  I’m crying because I’m traumatized, but my wiener is…

It’s…

Holy shit—it is ROCK FUCKING HARD.

(Gimme a call, Martha.)  😀

 

Has your favorite Food Network bad boy/girl tried to take advantage of you as if they were a sleazy 1950s high school quarterback?  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!  😲💪 😜

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10 thoughts on “Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

  1. Okay. True Story: I was watching a friend’s TV and the channel gets flipped and who is on but Martha Fucking Stewart and no one knows why I start laughing like a hyena but I do and goddamn I wish I could share pictures in comments because I would have taken a picture of her flour-y hands as she was rolling out some pre-rolled dough for the camera and I just knew you’d love to see her Botoxed face today. Oddly enough, and maybe this is due to heavy editing by the PBS directors, but she not once mentioned anyone’s asshole or her raging desire for a man-whore.

    (And you’re welcome for that little story for your spank-bank 😉)

    Liked by 1 person

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