Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

God…this fucking TIE…

I crick my head to the side, grimacing as I adjust the corporate cock-inhibitor—sorry, NECKTIE—that I have to wear in order to do my job so I can gas up the tank and stock the fridge.

“Honey!”  My wife’s voice assaults my ears from one room over, cutting a piece of my soul away so she can feed it to whatever demon she’s currently in league with.  “WHERE’S MY TRIBUTE???  IT’S BEEN A GODDAMN MONTH SINCE YOU BOUGHT ME SOMETHING WITH A DIAMOND IN IT!!!”

I force a smile and cinch my tie a little tighter.  “Irma,” I call back, “you do realize that even if you manage to get a ‘clean diamond,’ the refinement process would almost guarantee that you’ve exploited a bunch of third-world workers, right?  Can’t we just get something with quartz in it?  It’s way cheaper, and it actually has color—it’s not just a transparent rock whose artificial value was determined by a deceptive marketing campaign paired with draconian business practices.  What do you say?”

There’s a long, weighty silence.

Irma kicks down the door, holding a six-barrel chain gun down by her hip.  FUCKSHIT!

I scuttling forward in a hunched crouch as the barrels accelerate into a clockwise blur, their tips sparking with rapid-fire flashes.  Drywall and furniture explode into fragments, dousing the air in jagged confetti.  I can hear Irma screaming, cursing me for being a worthless sack of asparagus-tainted sperm, saying this is the last goddamn straw, that all her friends have BIG FAT ROCKS AND THAT SHE WANTS ONE TOO!!!

I power forward, crashing through the bedroom door with a vicious shoulder-check.  I almost stumble, but manage to push off the floor with the tips of my fingers and keep my momentum.  A hail of steel follows me out into the hall, tearing everything apart in a merciless storm of bee-sting slaps.  I enter the kitchen and try to turn left.  My right foot skids out from under me but I scramble in place and regain my balance.  The rounds are missing but just barely; one of them cuts a furrow in my beloved number 6 haircut that I just got from my favorite milfy barber at the local Supercuts.

No options left.  I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Time freezes.  The chatter of the machine-gun cuts off, and wonder upon wonders, I can see the rounds that are about to hit me stop in the air, like in the only good Matrix movie.  Taylor Swift materializes in front of me, floating several inches above the floor.  Her legs are straightened beneath her, her hands stretched down and out to either side like some kind of super hot but unattainable angel that would never, EVER entertain the idea of anal, and would only agree to a blow-jay if it was scheduled for your birthday and you’d just given her a fresh bouquet of roses.

“Kent Wayne.”  Her ruby-red lips curve up in a knowing smile.  “This isn’t you.  You weren’t meant to wither away in a suburban prison; you were meant to roam free amongst the soccer moms, slanging that big-ass dick, licking the cleaner off windows and supping on the finest paste known to man.”

“I know,” I whisper, staring at the floor.  “I tried so hard…I tried to pretend…but you’re right—this isn’t who I am.”

She grasps my chin and tilts it up, brushes my lips with a light kiss (mmm…she smells like Pretty), then looks me in the eye and lays a hand on my cheek.

“Remember who you are,” she whispers.

And then she vanishes in a twinkling fade.

Irma’s machine gun spins right back up, chewing apart fixtures and electrical wiring.  As she stomps into the kitchen and unleashes a flesh-ripping hurricane of 7.62, my Taylor-blessed penis rips free of my pants, slapping the bullets away in quick, darting flits.  I walk toward Irma and she pours it on, baring her teeth in a vicious snarl.  A second later, her fury turns to fear. 

“No—stay back, damn you!  STAY BACK!”

Plinkplinkplinkplink!  My wiener slaps away the ordnance and I keep walking forward, calm and composed. 

She stops firing and stares dumbly at me.  “How did you…how did…”

I reach into a cupboard and withdraw a full tub of delicious AF paste.  “It’s over, Irma.  And I’m taking this paste.  Throughout our entire marriage, you tried to keep me from eating the one thing that makes me happy.  That ends now.”

“You can’t leave!” she screams as I walk out the door.  “I NEED DIAMONDS, DAMN YOU!  DAMN YOU, KENT WAYNE!  DAAAAAAMMMMNNN YOOOOOooooouuuu…”

Kent Wayne escapes again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

 

Has your crazy-ass ex fallen prey to societal pressures, and is now demanding that you spend three months’ pay on false symbols of love and unity that are borne from exploitation, cruelty, and plain old greed?  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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