Saint Momo here. You probably haven’t heard of me, but I’ve got the street cred: visions, clash with corrupt clergy-folk, mid-tier miracles (transubstantiation, bilocation, laying on of hands, etc. etc.), harrowing torture, then a relaxing vacation in the Eternal Beyond. I lived as a beret-wearing newsie in the early twentieth century, back when tommy guns, speakeasies, and words like “dame,” and “gams,” were still in style . My Noo Yawk smart mouth has gotten me in trouble more times than I can count, which is why the Mob guys named me Momo, a none-too-subtle dig on my lack of brains—specifically my thought-mouth filter.
Got me a spiffy set of wings, a Flaming Sword, and a new set of divine powers. Mikey (yep, that Mikey) tasked me with finding the oaf known as Kent Wayne and convince him to write his freakin’ books. We’ve loaded fresh concepts into his thick skull, but instead of feeding the Infinite Expansion, he spends most of his time boffing Soccer Moms. Fornication’s okay, but jeez louise—take a break every now and then. Apparently, he always smells like chlorine and fish, but he’s so friggin’ charming that it doesn’t slow his game.
Okay, let’s get this party started.
“KENT!” I thunder, as I materialize in his studio. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???”
“AAAAAHHHH!!!” He swivels in his office chair, his laptop open to MyFriendsHotMom dot com. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU???”
“Lay off the Soccer Moms,” I order. “The Big Guy’s peeved.”
“The Big G—” Realization dawns in his neander-fuck face. “Nah, bruh. You heard wrong—I got a pass.”
“You’re pissing me off.” I reach down to my waist and activate my Flaming Sword. “We can do this easy…or we can do it real easy, if you get my drift.”
“Don’t believe me, eh?” He opens his eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
“Witness my wiener in it’s true form!” he cries, rising to his feet and dropping trou. Due to the magic eReader, the spell that disguised his piece as a knee-length womb-hammer discoheres.
I now see it for what it truly is: a luminous bar of nameless colors, each one thrumming with soul-piercing melody. His disgusting scent fades from my mind, transcendent rapture blasts through my being. This is what they referenced when they wrote of Nirvana, of hypostatic union, of the Glory of Being…
“All right all right!” I cover my eyes, turning away from the Light of Creation. “Mortal Affairs must have dropped the ball and given me a bunk tasking! Put it away!”
He zips back up and plops in his chair. Sonofabitch doesn’t say a thing—just steeples his fingers and giggles like a psycho. “HEH heh heh!”
I fly off into the aether, shaking my head in utter befuddlement. Why would the Big Guy give him that much power? File under “mysterious ways,” I guess.
Gotta say though: I can definitely see why the Soccer Moms love him.
Has some dickhead from on high come down from their aerie and given you shit about your freewheeling ways? 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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