Taylor Swift fixes me with a meaningful stare.
“Do you understand what it’s like to be me, Kent? Adored by billions, the entire world at my disposal, constantly surrounded by an army of yes-people? It makes you a little…wonky.” Her smile widens. “Has anyone told you you have beautiful ears? This one looks just like a vagina.” From her seat beside me she toys with my lobe, smiling bemusedly as she looks me up and down. “There’s a lot of stuff I could fit in here…”
“Uh…” I grimace nervously and fiddle with my bow-tie (the only thing she’s let me keep on besides my Batman-symboled speedos) “You just paid me to dance for you. If you wanna do anything extra, it’s gonna—”
For a brief, jarring moment I see nothing but stars. Then I come to a second later. She’s standing over me, arms jacked out to either side like a pop-goddess version of Weapon X. SHINK! Cyber-dildos shoot out from camouflaged ports on her forearms, equipping both of her hands with a big ol’ helping o’ Powered-up Penis.
“EVERYONE loves my new album!” she snarls. (I gotta admit—I’m one of them). “The world bows to me, Kent! And so will your holes! Open wide, motherfucker—and you can be DAMN sure I’m not talking about your mouth!”
“EEEE!” In the midst of my terror, my voice reverts to a grating, wince-inducing bitch-squeal. “EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
And then I remember I have one option left. I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Soccer Mom Prime crashes through the penthouse window, collapsing into an action-hero roll and flowing to her feet. She Kung-Fu’s the shit out of Taylor–Neo-vs-Agent-Smith-style–and looms over me as the pop goddess princess goes stumbling back onto her butt.
“Stand down, bitch,” SMP states with dry authority. “Kent prefers MILFS—everyone knows that. And that preference extends to his dirtiest holes.”
Then she throws me over her shoulder like a sack a’ potatoes and runs toward the fiftieth story window. I can’t help it—I start screaming again.
Then she dives into the night, spread-eagling her limbs for a heart-stopping instant before she reaches to her waist, withdraws a decelerant-line grapnel from her utility belt, and—POOM—launches its Van Der Waals-enhanced hook in a crisp puff of gas. We go swinging off toward the horizon.
“Gonna use you like cheap Betty Crocker Mix,” she informs me calmly. “Hope you’ve been carbing up, Man Whore.”
I close my eyes and whisper a thanks under my breath. Use me up, Soccer Mom Prime!
Are you at the mercy of a power-mad pop star? 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! 🙂 🙂 😀
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! 😲💪 😜