Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Where the fuck did I put my sandals?  I took em off so I could get on that stupid-ass waterslide, but now I have no idea where they are…

I look around my boss’s yard, scanning for my beloved Crocs.  Nothing.  Nada.

Fucking stupid-ass party…he made his son’s birthday party into a mandatory event, because the paste-eating booger-picker has exactly three and a half friends (apparently, a stuffed animal counts as half a friend in his eight-year old brain).  Yeah I know—you can’t “force” employees to attend your kid’s birthday party by threatening to fire them, but you can load em up with a shitload of work, and dial the passive-aggressive cuntiness up by a factor of 11.  My boss, like a lot of bosses, is a fucking master at it.

Oh, there they are—by the birthday cake table.  I breathe a relieved sigh, but just as I step into the right Croc, one of the kids flashes by and throws something into my sandal.


My heel lowers down, smushing a fresh turd into the rubberized grid.  Kid poop oozes across my sole, pushing between my toes like evil playdoh.

I level a shaking finger at the diminutive perpetrator (surprise, surprise, it’s my boss’s son Hayden_ and yell, “You vile piece of FUCK!  Where the FUCK do you get off, throwing shit into a stranger’s—”

The music cuts off.  Everyone is staring at me.  My boss crosses his arms and gives me a long, stony glare.

“But…but…he threw poop in my…” I try to plead my case with a series of frustrated gestures, like Larry David trying to explain himself right after he’s just fucked the pooch.

It gets me nowhere.  My boss reaches in his pocket, unscrews a bottle of pills, and shakes a few of them into his palm.  “You’ll pay for your insolence, Kent.”  Then he throws them into the air and yells, “BRING ME HIS LIVER!”

Hayden and his friends leap into the air, snapping dozens of adderall down in less than a second.  They hit the ground running, snarling and hissing as they charge toward me on all fours.


I run into my car, gun the engine, and peel into the street.  A moment later I’m tearing through the San Francisco suburbs, my little Nissan roaring and screeching.  I glance at the rearview and my heart drops into my stomach—the adderall-powered kids are tearing up architecture left and right, ripping through lawns and fences like meth’d up versions of Looney Tunes Tas.  SHIT!

The speedometer creeps past a hundred.  Yank the wheel to the right, work the e-brake and ease into a drift, and then I’m rocketing down another street.  The kids are gaining.  My eyes widen as they whirl and slice through an unsuspecting dogwalker; one moment I’m looking at a flesh-and-blood human being, and then a moment later, he’s reduced to a bleached pile of bones.  Holy Mary Mother of CHRIST!

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

A ghost pepper burrito appears in my lap.  Game on, fuckers.

I reach down and jam it into my mouth, my eyes bulging as if I was fellating Dwayne Johnson’s roided up fist.  A quick, pained squinch as it goes down my throat, and then my ass is primed and ready.

I roll down the window, yank down my pants, and monkey-crouch on the driver’s seat so I can keep steering while I stick my cheeks out into the wind.


And with that war-cry, I relax my sphincter.  The ghost pepper burrito does what it’s supposed to; it blows out my ass and transforms into a sickly green whirlwind filled with tentacled horrors and chitinous monsters.  Glimmer-eyed skulls laugh and howl as they spin round and round along the edges of the unholy cyclone, filling the air with a booming, “OOH HOO HA HA!  OOH HOO HOO—AHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

The adderall-powered tykes are caught in the hurricane’s gyre, yowling like dying hyenas who’re getting buttfucked.  I sit back down and keep driving, blubbering and sobbing in abject relief.

Adderall-powered kids—holy FUCK that was close!  But as always…

Kent Wayne escapes again!  Ha HA!



Has some disrespectful rugrat thrown a steaming piece of poop into your beloved right sandal?  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  Musings, Volume 1 is available here:  Musings, Volume 1  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!  😲💪 😜

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