“Hey Kent.” Chuck Norris keeps his gaze fixed on the heavy bag, hopping in place and counting his roundhouse kicks. “Ten thousand one…ten thousand two…” He stops, jumps into a ballerina-esque triple toe-spin, then leaps toward me, throwing a reverse punch that stops an inch from my nose. “HA!” he exclaims, eyes narrowing. “Spared yer life, dick-cheese! Anyways, I was gonna ask if you if you wanted to—”
“NO, Chuck,” I say with strained patience, “I do NOT want to stare at myself naked in the mirror while I’m doing concentration curls with you.”
“Suit yerself,” Chuck grumbles. “Pussy.”
Suddenly, Steven Seagal busts through the wall like an evil version of the Kool-Aid guy, dressed in nothing but a polka-dotted speedo, his big ol’ fake-martial arts belly jiggling and jumping like a piece of jello in a 9.8 earthquake. He grabs Chuck by the back of the head and pulls the King of Roundhouse Kicks into the mat of fur that passes for his chest hair.
“There’s old pizza and cheap Chinese food in there,” Steven mumbles. “Take a whiff.”
“NO!” Chuck screams. “YOU’RE HURTING MY WILL TO LIVE!” He lets loose with a final, piteous cry before the skin sloughs off his bones and collects in a gooey puddle by Steven’s feet.
Seagal looks up at me. “You’re next. I hate sanity.”
FUCK! No options left. So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
The sound of helicopter blades fill the air. Martha Stewart drops down from her black-ops Food Network chopper onto Steven Seagal’s back, catching him in a rear naked choke. “Wanna know what I learned in the Big House?” she hisses into his ear. “It’s called Prison Fist Uppercut.” She shoves him forward, and—
—throws a motherfucker of a punch, starting at his anus and bisecting his torso with her knuckle-push-up-hardened hand. It cuts through his torso, his pony-tailed skull and she keeps going, floating ten feet up into the gore-soaked air, turning fully around before she comes back down.
“Man Whore Kent,” she pants, her face streaked red like goddamn Carrie before she goes full-on telekinetic. “Whip out that thick, upcurved wiener of yours and gimme some love.”
And who am I to refuse? I step forward, a single tear tracing its way down my right cheek.
All hail the Prison God Martha. Bow before her glory. Bow before her terror.
God help us all.
*Theme from Requiem for a Dream*
Has Steven Seagal threatened you with his pizza-infested chest hair? 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! 🙂 🙂 😀
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