Damn, I’m writing up a storm!  The hamster in my brain has gone from piddling indifferently on its idea-generator wheel, to becoming an indomitable source for creative output.  If this were a movie, you’d see him go from being a cute lil’ jogger to a yoked-out beast—I’m talking eight pack abs, a steely-ass glare, and a jawline that could rip through pure adamantium.

Unfortunately, going 110% is unsustainable.  As I’m snoozing at my desk, the President wakes me up with, “Kent!  What in the Sam Hill FUCK!”

I snap up in my chair, drool hanging off my lips and chin.  “Huh?  Whuzzuh?”

His angry face shines from my laptop.  “What kind of Man Whore are you???  You need to service these goddamn soccer moms!”

“Why?”  My brow crinkles in puzzlement.  “What’s going on?”

“They’ve reverted back to their feral state!”

“ ‘Feral?’  What’re you—”

“KARENS, fuckwit!  We’re barely hanging on to LA and Dallas!  In the last two hours, every major city has—”  In the background, a general empties his pistol at an offscreen attacker.  Screams and snarls erupt from the stream, mingled with curses and desperate pleas.  Someone yells, “God in heaven, they’re in the WALLS—” before the camera falls on its side and the feed cuts off. 

I run to my window, struggling to process the lawless chaos.  Smoke trails mar the sunny blue, drifting up from smoldering, fire-ravaged buildings.  Distant explosions ring through the air, followed by screeches and urgent shouts. 

Holy FUCK.

No options left.  So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality-distortion powers.  Magic flash.

I bifurcate into a legion of parallel selves, then send them back in time through a bloom of quantum tunnels.  As Primary Me, I close my eyes and focus my consciousness on directing the other me’s into pleasing throngs of horny soccer moms.  A chorus of mantras echoes through my brain:  go slow at first—the upcurve isn’t enjoyable unless a vajeen relaxes and adjusts to the girth…

Cue the big budget blockbuster spinny shot—my surroundings dissolve into glowing equations, interspersed by gorgeous byzantine patterns.  As possibility reconfigures, it takes form as a dazzle of fractalized light, then settles back into my trusty ol’ condo. 

A glance out my window confirms all is well.  No smoke trails, fires, or mobs of incessant manager-requesting fiends. 

Whew!  Kent Wayne wins again!

😀

Have you neglected your amorous duties, and unknowingly triggered a world-ending apocalypse?  Never fear!  Buy my books, bifurcate into a million different selves, then send em back in time so they can get busy with the sexin’!

Get A Door into Evermoor here: A Door into Evermoor.  Get Weapons of Old here: Weapons of Old Get Kor’Thank here:  Kor’Thank:  Barbarian Valley Girl.  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  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization!    

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