My ex kicks me out of her moving car.  Asphalt bites into my shoulders and ribs—OW, FUCK, MOTHER OF SHIT—before I come to a stop in the ratty-ass weeds.  It takes me an hour of wriggling and squirming, but I finally worm free of the ties around my wrists. 

Fuck, that hurt.  I stand up and look around.  This place is teeming with life, but not in a good way.  Any second now, some giant lizard or fist-sized bug is gonna jump out of the bush and—

“Well look what we have here.”  A pot-bellied militia-guy emerges from the brush.  He’s kitted out in high-end armor, tacti-cool pouches, and a rifle that’s tripled in natural weight, due to all the scopes, lasers, and the chainsaw-bayonet hanging off its end. 

I take a shot in the dark.  “Zeke?”

“HOW’D YEW KNOW?”  His rifle snaps up.

“Whoa!”  I thrust my hands in the air.  “Lucky guess, man!”

Three of his friends emerge from the treeline.  One of them says, “Got dibs on the mouth.”

“Yew might be a Chinese spy.”  Zeke’s eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“Korean-American, actually.  My parents—”

“WHUTEVER!” he roars.  “YEW CAN STILL BE A SPY!”

I shrug in defeat.  “That’s true, but—”

“Only one way to tell.”  He jerks his chin at my crotch.  “Gotta see if yer circumcised.  Now lemme see that sexy Chinese penis.”

My brow furrows in concern.  “Yeah, that’s not a thing.  You’re probably thinking about—”

“LEMME SEE IT!”

Shit.  These guys are straight out of a Tarantino horror flick.  No options left.  So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

One of the hillbillies yells, “The FUCK—” before a sickening crack rings through the air, and he drops to the ground with his head canted back at an impossible angle.  Full-auto fire chatters and blazes, targeting Chuck Norris as he darts away from his broken-necked prey, accelerates into a circular sprint, and—

“EEEEHHHH-HOOOOO!!!” 

—roundhouse kicks one of them so fucking hard that his skull rockets clean off his neck, and pinball-ricochets off five different trees.  His buddy screams, “HOLY FUCK!” and ejects his mag.  Before he can click a new one in, Chuck runs up to him and punts him in the crotch.  Blood jets out the hillbilly’s ears, his eyes go red with burst vessels, and his gory nuts shoot out from his mouth.

Chuck points at the hillbilly leader.  “That is MY sexy Chinese penis!”

I clear my throat.  “Korean-American, actually—”

He swivels in my direction and snaps, “Quit messin’ with my damn intellectual!”  He turns around to address the hillbilly leader, who’s raising his trembling hands and trying not to cry.  “Now.  Me n’ Kent are gonna strip nekkid and stare at ourselves in the mirror while we get our pump on with some extra grunty bicep curls.  Right, Kent?  Right?!?  KENT!  OH, COME ON—YOU GODDAMN COMMUNIST PUSSY!”

I’m already running away.  Fuck that shit. 

Has your ex ditched you in the backwoods of Florida, and left you to fend for yourself against a bunch of deviant militia-larpers?  Never fear!  Buy my books, use their magical powers to summon psycho Chuck Norris, and watch him mutilate their bodies with his legendary roundhouse kicks!

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