Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

One sentence—that’s all I need.  Half the time, I start my writing sessions with whatever rando combination of words come to mind.  Let’s reach in the ol’ Kent Wayne brain and—

Der-boobies-look-better-when-you-coat-them-in-oil-especially-after-they-get-pressed-together-so-I-can—

—WHOA!  Not what I was looking for!  I need story ideas for books, dammit, not Brazzers scenes!  I screw up my face, squinching my eyes shut.  My tongue slips out without my intending it as I strain my noggin, trying with all my freakin’ might to conjure up a viable story idea.

HNNNNGH!

Nothing.  Sigh.

So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Ernest Hemingway bursts through my wall like the frickin’ Kool Aid guy, dressed in pointy elf-shoes and a strongman onesie.  He lifts an oversized bottle of whiskey to his lips, takes several giant chugs—galumph Galumph GALUMPH—and wipes his mouth with his coarse-haired wrist.

“AAAAH!” he exclaims.  “Best breakfast EVER!”

Then he uppercuts me right in the stomach.  I bend over and my eyes bug out—WHOOF—and he shoves a handful of magic mushrooms into my surprised mug.

“Get that down yer gander, you whissy-slipped dunderfop, you!”

I flinch back and protect my face.  “Don’t hit me!” I squeal.  “Your knuckles are extra hairy—for some reason, it makes your punches worse!”

He puts both hands on his hips and roars with laughter.  “The power of Old Timeyness!” he cackles.  “Now tell me if those fungi didn’t do the trick—I’ll eat my hat if they didn’t!”

I slowly straighten, my eyes widening as starfighters, Penis Dragons, and hot ass Soccer Moms drift through the air in winged SUVs.

“Whoa,” I whisper.  “Yeah…yeah I think it did.”

“Knew it would!”  He slaps on a leather World War I fighter ace aviator helmet (complete with a pair of oversized goggles), bends both arms at the elbows, and squats like he’s about to take a shit.  A 1950s, Rocketeer-style jetpack materializes on his back and he blasts off into the sky, calling me milksop, mollycoddle, nincompoop, and all kinds of other old-timey insults we should definitely bring back.

But none of that matters.  Got an idea for my story, and it’s got soccer moms in it!  Ha HA!

😀

 

Do you need a creative boost from a whiskey-swilling, pipe-smoking, onesie-wearing Man among Men?  I’ve got just the thing!  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!  😲💪 😜

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