Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Where the fuck did I put my sandals?  I took em off so I could get on that stupid-ass waterslide, but now I have no idea where they are…

I look around my boss’s yard, scanning for my beloved Crocs.  Nothing.  Nada.

Fucking stupid-ass party…he made his son’s birthday party into a mandatory event, because the paste-eating booger-picker has exactly three and a half friends (apparently, a stuffed animal counts as half a friend in his eight-year old brain).  Yeah I know—you can’t “force” employees to attend your kid’s birthday party by threatening to fire them, but you can load em up with a shitload of work, and dial the passive-aggressive cuntiness up by a factor of 11.  My boss, like a lot of bosses, is a fucking master at it.

Oh, there they are—by the birthday cake table.  I breathe a relieved sigh, but just as I step into the right Croc, one of the kids flashes by and throws something into my sandal.

SQUIIIIISHHHHH.

My heel lowers down, smushing a fresh turd into the rubberized grid.  Kid poop oozes across my sole, pushing between my toes like evil playdoh.

I level a shaking finger at the diminutive perpetrator (surprise, surprise, it’s my boss’s son Hayden_ and yell, “You vile piece of FUCK!  Where the FUCK do you get off, throwing shit into a stranger’s—”

The music cuts off.  Everyone is staring at me.  My boss crosses his arms and gives me a long, stony glare.

“But…but…he threw poop in my…” I try to plead my case with a series of frustrated gestures, like Larry David trying to explain himself right after he’s just fucked the pooch.

It gets me nowhere.  My boss reaches in his pocket, unscrews a bottle of pills, and shakes a few of them into his palm.  “You’ll pay for your insolence, Kent.”  Then he throws them into the air and yells, “BRING ME HIS LIVER!”

Hayden and his friends leap into the air, snapping dozens of adderall down in less than a second.  They hit the ground running, snarling and hissing as they charge toward me on all fours.

Holy FUCKLES!

I run into my car, gun the engine, and peel into the street.  A moment later I’m tearing through the San Francisco suburbs, my little Nissan roaring and screeching.  I glance at the rearview and my heart drops into my stomach—the adderall-powered kids are tearing up architecture left and right, ripping through lawns and fences like meth’d up versions of Looney Tunes Tas.  SHIT!

The speedometer creeps past a hundred.  Yank the wheel to the right, work the e-brake and ease into a drift, and then I’m rocketing down another street.  The kids are gaining.  My eyes widen as they whirl and slice through an unsuspecting dogwalker; one moment I’m looking at a flesh-and-blood human being, and then a moment later, he’s reduced to a bleached pile of bones.  Holy Mary Mother of CHRIST!

No options left.  I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

A ghost pepper burrito appears in my lap.  Game on, fuckers.

I reach down and jam it into my mouth, my eyes bulging as if I was fellating Dwayne Johnson’s roided up fist.  A quick, pained squinch as it goes down my throat, and then my ass is primed and ready.

I roll down the window, yank down my pants, and monkey-crouch on the driver’s seat so I can keep steering while I stick my cheeks out into the wind.

“NOW IS THE WINTER OF MY DISCONTENT!”

And with that war-cry, I relax my sphincter.  The ghost pepper burrito does what it’s supposed to; it blows out my ass and transforms into a sickly green whirlwind filled with tentacled horrors and chitinous monsters.  Glimmer-eyed skulls laugh and howl as they spin round and round along the edges of the unholy cyclone, filling the air with a booming, “OOH HOO HA HA!  OOH HOO HOO—AHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

The adderall-powered tykes are caught in the hurricane’s gyre, yowling like dying hyenas who’re getting buttfucked.  I sit back down and keep driving, blubbering and sobbing in abject relief.

Adderall-powered kids—holy FUCK that was close!  But as always…

Kent Wayne escapes again!  Ha HA!

😀

 

Has some disrespectful rugrat thrown a steaming piece of poop into your beloved right sandal?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

Advertisements

Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Whoa…did I eat too many magic mushrooms or something?  This is…this is…

I look around in dazed wonder, gaping at the ethereal columns of streaming iridescence, and the translucent haze beneath my feet.  It’s bowing slightly from the weight of my body, ringing my shoes with inward-dipping lines of distorted air.  Phantasmagoric creatures drift languidly by; they look like alien manta rays, or extradimensional jelly fish.

“Approach, Kent Wayne.”  A disembodied voice rings through my skull; it sounds like an electronic harp combined with an angelic choir.

“Um…okay.”  I start walking, moving across a makeshift path bounded by the columns of iridescence.  When I draw abreast of one, it dematerializes into a cloud of dancing motes.

Wow…so COOL…

I walk past scores of columns, causing them all to break into radiant fragments.  Eventually, I find myself standing before a throne.  Sitting upon it is a tall, beautiful lady who appears to be made of flashing rainbow.  It purls and slides across her skin, like a spectrum of color caught in an oil slick.

“I have something for you.”  She holds up a bowl filled with shimmering star-shine—light made liquid.

“What is it?”  I walk up the stairs leading to her throne.

“It’s Beauty, Kent—pure Beauty.  Drink deeply…you deserve it, for perpetuating novelty with each keystroke.  You’ve been writing stories for so long…you deserve a reward.”

I stop before her and take the bowl.  I lift it to my face, close my eyes, and inhale its scent.  My God…

“It smells like Pretty,” I murmur, opening my eyes.

She gives me a wide, luminescent smile.  “Drink, Kent.”

I take the first gulp, and my mouth starts burning.  I drop to my knees, clutching my belly, and the bowl clatters from my grasp.  Oh fuck…it tastes like unwashed assholes…

“What…what…”  I can’t speak; I’m coughing too hard.

The lady on the throne begins shifting and changing.  Fuck me in the goat-ass:  it’s Grammar Nazi Prime.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, momentarily concealing his beady little pupils with a flash of light off the flats of his lenses.  A malevolent smile widens his chinless, testosterone-free face.

“How does it taste, Kent?  A red-ink brew, made specifically for you.”

“Red…ink?”  I gaze at the contents of the bowl I just drank from, now scattered across the floor.

It wasn’t Beauty.  FUCK.

It’s essay correction ink.  Red as the balls on a ninth-ring demon.

“You…you…”  My  vision starts hazing.  I collapse onto my side, gasping in shuddering, wheezing hitches.  Through the blur of my tears, I can see him smiling.

I’m about to die.  So I reach in my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

KRACKA-FUCKING-THOOM!

Soccer Mom Prime materializes in a blast of swirling blue halos, hovering a few inches above the ground.  She throws her head back; the joy of her physical emergence shows in her semi-orgasmic expression—in the barely audible moan that escapes her lips.

Her form solidifies.  Long, sleek hair dances around her shoulders, set aflutter by the intensity of her arrival.  A gleam runs across her Elven-steampunk armor, locking it firmly into place with blinding twinkles.  She glances at me, raises her hand, and utters a single, resonant phrase:

“As you were, Man Whore.”

Magic swirls out from her open palm, weaving and lashing into brilliant tendrils.  They surround me in a network of elegant, sweeping slashes.  In a few seconds…

Holy Shamoley!  I’m CURED!

SMP assesses me with a flick of her eyes, nods, then strides toward Grammar Nazi Prime.

“No!”  His eyes widen.  “Stay BACK!”

“You who would suppress the creative impulse, the sacred grace that is woven through our being…”  Her voice rises in pitch, shaking the aether with its sonorous boom.  “You who would persecute the Conduit known as Kent, and deprive the world of his ineffable genitals, the three-time award winning Cock of Legend…”

“Stay back!” he howls.  “STAY BACK!”

“I.  CAST.  YOU.  OUT!”  She crosses both arms to her chest, then leans forward and slashes them out to either side.  An undulant, glowing wave erupts from the gesture and ripples toward the Grammar Nazi.  When it makes contact, he flies apart into an ugly mess of red-and-black twists.  Before he disappears, he manages an anguished, protracted cry:

“NOOOOOOOooooooo…..”

And then he’s gone.  There’s a long, hanging silence.

“Uh…so what next?” I ask SMP.

She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.  “Come on Kent—I didn’t save the ‘Cock of Legend’ just for kicks.  Unzip your pants—lemme see that sausage.”

You can imagine the rest.  Needless to say, the Cock of Legend had a grand old time.

😀

 

Have you been fooled into drinking the disgusting essence of nitnoy Grammar?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

I have no idea what to write.

I just wrote that because I subscribe to the premise that when you’re honest about how you feel, you’re able to express your feelings in an honest manner.  Erroneous logic?  Maybe…all I know is that in my experience, that sentiment is 100% true.  In my case, it is inductively sound.

Still—gotta write an ad for my books, right?  Believe it or not, when I write an ad, I’m sometimes winging it from the very first sentence.  That’s what I’m doing right now.  So now that I’m all warmed up, let’s reach in the ol’ Kent Wayne Brain and see what’s cooking…

 

PKEW PKEW PKEW!

Geysers of dirt erupt all around me.  I hunch lower and flee from a barrage of turbo-laser madness, raining down from the Type 34s that are screaming past.  A fellow Space Marine runs up alongside me and grabs my shoulder.

“THERE!”  He points at a ten-foot tall cluster of boulders.  “GET BEHIND COVER!”

We break for the boulders, our servo-powered exo-skeletons whining and clanking as we push them to their limits.  We both know that those stupid boulders are a poor excuse for cover—they won’t shield us from a direct hit—but they might keep us from getting sliced apart by this goddamn shrapnel.

We hunker down behind the boulders. 

We’re cut off from our squad; once those Type 34s started cutting loose on us, we lost all semblance of tactical coherence.  A four-man fireteam is the basic element you need to maneuver through a battlespace, but thanks to those damn 34s, we’ve all been scattered to the goddamn winds.  Now, we’re just a couple of idiots slinging some pea-shooters.

“Fuck,” I hiss.  34 ordnance rips into the ground and flings geysers of dirt into the air.  It’s close enough to send showers of pebbles raining down on our armor.

The other Marine—I can see by his chest plate that his name is Murkowski, one of the older, saltier guys—wipes the grime off his half-bubble visor.  “My two-way’s blown.  Are your comms still jammed?”

Our two-way comms respond to thought, courtesy of the neuro-link implant they’ve installed in our auditory cortexes.  I send a mental directive to our tactical operations center, but all I get back is snowy static.

“Two-way’s a no-go.”  I shake my head.  “This might be it, Murk.”

Murk’s eyes tick back and forth.  “If we link up with our guys…try and flank their forward observers…”

“We have no ideas where any of them are,” I say.  “And their observers are probably guarded by a shitload of grunts.  I’m betting snipers as well.  Wait,” my eyes light with hope, “there’s still one option.”

Murk opens his mouth to ask what that is, but before he can ask, I reach into my chest pouch, withdraw my eReader, and open it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

“YEEEE-HAAAWWWW!!!”

A bulky armored form descends from the clouds and crashes through a Type 34, transforming it into a spectacular ball of fire and smoke.  He lands in an anime-style crouch, hitting with enough force to leave a small impact crater and cause a ring of distorted air to ripple outward from the point of impact.

Holy fucking shit—it’s Chuck Fucking Norris.  He’s clad in denim-coated armor, spotted with camouflage American flags and angry bald eagles with roided-out, humanoid bodies.

“COME GET SOME, YA COMMIE BASTERDS!”  He rises from his crouch and bounds hundreds of feet up, throwing a storm of roundhouses in one-hundred-kick combos.  Type 34s explode into fireballs, lighting the sky with brilliant bursts of red and orange.  

Me and Murk slowly rise, gaping at The Chuck in utter awe.

“Fuck me,” Murk murmurs.

“I second that.”

By this point, Chuck’s taken out half their air.  He lands, throws his arms back and his chest out, and thrusts his hips toward the sky.  A giant, mechanized penis extends from his crotch—CLANK CLANK CLANK—its shaft coated in true-blue denim.

“ ’MERCA MOTHERFRIGGERS!”  Chuck’s destructo-cock unleashes a spit-fire barrage of apple pies, all coated in red-white-and-blue frosting.  The scrumptious pastries aren’t dense enough to puncture the 34s, but they’re forceful enough to splatter the canopies with a delicious blend of Granny Smith and Golden Delicious.  They’re also forceful enough to knock the skycraft off course; they start veering into each other or spiraling into the ground.  More explosions light the horizon.

Chuck looks over at us as his mechanical wiener bucks and chatters, destroying our enemies with All That is ’Merca.  His karate-champ eyes flash with insanity.  “SAY BOYS—YOU WANNA GET NEKKID AFTER THIS AND DO SOME CURLS IN FRONT OF A MIRROR?”

Me and Murk exchange a glance:  HELL no.

“Ah…I think we’re good, Chuck,” I call back.

“SUIT YERSELF, YA WEAK-SAUCE PUSSIES!”  He turns back to the sky, bringing down another five-craft wing of Type 34s. 

Me and Murk let our rifles droop to our sides.  In all our years of service, this is the craziest shit we’ve ever seen.

Thank you, Chuck Norris:  American Icon, Genuine Crazy Person, and Destructo-Cock Pie-Launcher.

 

Are you about to get gang-fucked by a horde of merciless space-troopers?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

HOLY FUCKING HELL!

I’ve been calling dozens of pizza parlors, searching for a decent NY slice, and they’ve all said the same damn thing:

“We only serve Chicago deep dish.”

AHHHHHHH!!!!  WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!

Due to my trembling fingers and blurry bitch-tears, it takes me five tries to dial Whole Foods.  I ask to be routed to their pizza person.

“Whole Foods Pizza.”

“Do you serve…do you serve…”  I can’t get the words out.

“We just switched to Chicago Deep Di—”

“FUCK YOU!” I scream.

I throw my phone against the wall, drop to my knees, and sob into my hands.  What the fuck is HAPPENING…

Wait!  Gotta dial the source!  I grab my phone and call Lombardi’s, whimpering in frustration as the dial tone sounds in my ear. 

Come on come on come ON…

“This is the city of Chicago.  We know who this is.  And yes—you’re fucked, Kent; we’ve annexed every pizza parlor in NYC, along with the wannabes outside the tri-state area.  Whaddaya think a’ THAT, fuckface?”

“YOU EVIL SHITS!” I scream into the phone.  “YOU GODDAMN MONSTERS!”

“Kill yourself.”

“No—NO!”  I throw the phone again.  This time, it breaks into a sparking mess.

Only one option left.  I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

“WHAT DEVILRY IS THIS?”  Gandalf appears in a crack-a-boom lightning strike.  “WHAT CAUSES THE MAN WHORE OF LEGEND TO CRY LIKE A SNIVELING BITCH-PIG?”

“The pizza, Gandalf.”  Long, shiny snot-strings dangle off the end my tear-soaked nose.  “THEY’VE MADE IT ALL DEEP-DISH!”

He recoils in horror.  “Evil blaggards—how DARE they!  Not since Saruman refused to wash his foreskin for a fortnight and a day, have I heard of such a barbaric travesty!  This CANNOT STAND!”  He closes his eyes, grasps his staff with both hands, and slams its tip against the ground.  Reality warps and hazes; the time-space continuum distorts into a nonsensical coil, rendering his next words into a slow-motion cry:

“LET.  THERE.  BE.  N.  Y.  PIIIIIIZZZZAAaaaaa…..”

And then he’s gone.  In his place is a steaming pizza box, with solid black check marks by olives and pepperoni.

Could it be?  Did he really…

The box flips open, revealing a cheesy, bubbling masterpiece.  YES!

I bury my face in a slice of GobberNoms, crying tears of joy and trying not to stroke my massive boner.

FUCK deep dish!  You KNOW I speak the truth!

😀

 

Has the world gone topsy-turvy, and turned all that was good into the lowest of evils?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

Musings, Volume 1

It has been a long, hard battle.  Life has whittled me down to a withered shadow of my former self.  A pitiful semblance of what I once was.  The fates have conspired to reduce me to a neutered facsimile of Kent Wayne the Man Whore, but it ain’t gonna happen.  A spark of defiance still burns hot within my beleaguered soul.

My family, my neighbors…everyone in my social circle thinks of me as Respectable Dad.  How wrong they are.

Maybe I’m not ripped and all boner-ed up anymore, but Respectable Dad still has some fight left in him.  Respectable Dad still eats magic mushrooms every now and then.  Respectable Dad still watches Adventure Time.  Respectable Dad still—

“KENT!  DINNER TIME!  AND REMEMBER WHAT I SAID ABOUT MY NEXT PIECE OF DIAMOND JEWELRY—IT BETTER BE WORTH SIX MONTHS OF YOUR GODDAMN SALARY, NONE OF THAT CHEAP-ASS THREE-MONTH STUFF!”

Respectable Dad wants to commit seppuku.  With a dull kitchen knife.

I trudge over to the dining room table and plunk my ass down, mumbling under my breath with the maximum defiance my predicament will allow—razzumfrazzumI’llshowyoudiamonds—and dourly scan the evening Noms.  Oh great—some yuppified veggie entree with those stupid sauce swirls on the edges of the plate.

“Enjoy, honey.”  My tyrannical wife, Irma Horfendorff, leans down and pecks my cheek.  “Remember,” she whispers.  “Diamonds.  Or I’ll neuter you with a hammer.”

With a conscious effort, I manage to restrain the single tear that wells up in my right eye and threatens to roll down my liver-spotted cheek.

Get through dinner.  Finish the meal.

My teenage daughter—she’s a freshman in college—sits down at the table, expelling a giant sigh and performing the requisite eye-roll.  My hand—now holding a fork so it can dig into the non-meat travesty lying on my plate—shakes and trembles.  The tines of my fork rattle against my plate.

“UGH!  Guys are SO disgusting!” she exclaims.

Irma takes a seat and spreads a napkin across her lap.  “What’s going on, Grace?  Are the boys at school giving you any—”

“I just got a piercing in my nose, right?  But all the guys in my sociology class think it means I love anal.  How stupid is that?”

Irma raises an eyebrow.  “That’s…that’s very unfortunate.  Why would they think that—”

“It’s not because I love anal—it’s because I want TWO COCKS AT ONCE!”  Grace slams the table with both fists and looks at Irma and me with a pair of overly mascara’d, furious eyes.  “DOUBLE PENETRATION!  IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?”

Jesus Christ.  I keep my eyes fixed on my food, eating forkful after forkful in utter silence.

“Kent?”  Irma clears her throat.  “Any advice for our darling daughter?”

Translation:  say something smart.  Defuse the situation or I’ll cut off your balls and mount them on a pike.

I wipe my mouth with a napkin.  “Um…ah…”

Come on—you can do this.  Respectable Dad.  Respectable Dad.

“Do you, ah…”

They lean in like hungry predators.  Holy shit—they’re fucking testing me.

“Do you, ah…ah…”  My voice cracks.

Finally, I manage to get out, “Do you use protection?”

Both of them erupt into angry clamors—WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU DAD—and:  KENT YOU ARE SO FAR OUT OF LINE I AM GOING TO PEG YOU WITH THE EXTRA-LARGE STRAP-ON TONIGHT I HOPE YOU’VE BEEN DOING YOUR BUTTHOLE STRETCHES—

I try to protest.  I raise my hands to try and articulate, but it’s no use.  Irma’s gesturing with her knife, making cutting motions with it while simultaneously making clutching motions with her free hand.  She’s finally going to do it—she’s going to castrate me.  Grace is screeching like a stuck pig, coating my face in a rain of spittle.  

Their words blend together into one long angry scream.  My eyes tick back and forth, and beads of sweat roll down my quivering forehead.  I’m about to lose my cock.  I’m going to bleed out in my own dining room.  I can’t believe that this is how it ends…

So I reach into my pocket and open my eReader to Musings, Volume 1, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

“OHGEEZDON’TCUTME!”  I bolt straight up in bed, gasping and panting.

Wait…what the fuck…I’m back in my San Francisco studio with my 10 lb. terrier Bitefighter.  Haven’t been here in over twenty years…

And then it hits me:  it was all a dream.  It was all a dream.

Thank FUCK.

Bitefighter cocks his little mustached face at me.  “Roo?”

“It’s nothing, buddy.”  I stroke his back and lay back down. 

“It’s nothing.”

Whew!  That was a close one!  But it also serves as a valuable lesson:  I am NOT cut out to be Respectable Dad!  I’m Kent Wayne—sci fi author and perennial Man Whore, biznotches!  Ha HA!

😀

 

Has your once-bright soul been worn thin by Hallmark-borne materialism and trend-inspired rebelliousness?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Snergles, Mergles, Yergles…what’s the difference, what’s the difference…Hmmm….

I stare blankly at my thick, dusty tome, and blow out a resigned sigh.  I’m a second-year student at Rasputin’s Academy for Budding Mages, and thus far, all of this stuff is absolute bullshit.  I mean, why the fuck would anyone want to ride a magic broom?  I tried it once and I couldn’t walk right for an entire month.  How the hell do the others do it?  Their balls must be the size of goddamn cherry pits.  There’s no other explanation for—

“Kent Wayne!”

Shit, it’s Irma Horfendorff—my super bitchy prof from Arcana 101!  She’s always telling me to quit doodling cocks on the covers of my spell books, or stop sniffing potions up in the lab.  The fuck does she expect?  Why would I make some kind of eye of newt concoction when I could eat enough mushrooms to send me into hypersp—

“Kent Wayne, why have you drawn a naked woman sucking on a giant, veiny—” her face wrinkles in outright disgust.  “MORGOTH’S BALLS—THAT IS ABHORRENT!”

I close my book and stare up at her, at a complete loss for words.  “Um..ah…erm…”

“Report to the principal’s office!  Right this second!”

“Erm…um…uh…”

“I SAID RIGHT THIS SECOND, MISTER WAYNE!”

Fuck it.  I curl my fingers up to my chest, using physical symbology to loosen up the laws of cause and effect, and hiss a magic phrase through my teeth:

“Levitorum Rapidium.”

WHOOSH!

I go streaking past her in a flutter of robes.  Jesus—flying is WAY harder than it looks on TV! 

“KENT WAYNE!  GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Oh SHIT!  She’s on one of those motherfucking brooms!  I scream and flail like Chris Farley in Beverly Hills Ninja, when he’s gone full-on astral.  Not sure if it’s helping or hurting, but so far, the ol’ battleaxe hasn’t—

She screams, “GOTCHA!” at the same time I scream, “FUCK ME IN THE GOAT-ASS!!!”

She’s just grabbed hold of my right ankle.  I twist and writhe, but to no avail;  she’d holding me tighter than a homophobe’s asshole after he’s just spotted a bin full of cucumbers.  JEEzus she is strong!

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

A thin line of my own smegma appears on my right index finger.  WHOOF.  I instinctively recoil, eyes watering, trying not to break into a violent coughing fit.  Shit—that’s my own brand and it damn near killed me.  Can’t imagine what it would do to…

What it would do to…

I reach down to Horfendorff, whose face turns from triumph to puzzlement as she sees my finger coming toward her.

“Wait—what are you doing?  What is that?  Kent, don’t do anyth—”

And then I smear it across her upper lip, like an unspeakably evil version of Vick’s vapor rub.  Her eyes widen in sudden understanding.

“AH CHRIST—IT’S LIKE GAREY BUSEY’S UNWASHED TAINT!”  She lets me go and flies into a chaotic tailspin, clutching her belly and vomiting wildly.  I slingshot forward into the starry night, released from her evil-as-fuck, schoolmarm fingers.  OH yeah!  Kent Wayne’s smegma wins again!  (Or is it a loss?  When smegma comes into play, you can’t really label it a win because it’s so damn vile…)

Whatevs!  I’m playing hooky today and that’s all that matters!  Ha HA!

😀

 

Has your boring-as-hell magic teacher tried to keep you from drawing penises and learning all the COOL spells?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜

Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

“Yargopolips NogBog.”

Roo?  I cock my furry Labrador head, staring at Irma Horfendorff in cute-dog befuddlement.

She leans in and wags her finger at me.  “BliggoPiggo LugWeebleNeebs.”

Arf?  My head stays cocked.

Then she puts on a witch’s hat, brandishes a magic wand, and exclaims, “MAN-O-MY-LIFE…APPEAR!!!”

My spine begins lengthening; my back paws widen and flatten, and the fur on my limbs creeps inward.  My forepaws do the same—my nubby little claws lengthen into long, tendril-like fingers.  My body keeps expanding until I’m 5 feet, 7 inches high (dammit—why couldn’t it have kept going for five more inches???  Oh well—my thick, upcurved cock, handsome mug, and ripped body make up for my seeming lack of height…I guess.)

Irma crosses her arms.  “Ribblongko ArgleBargleNangkle.”

I give her a puzzled look.  “What?”

With more irritation this time:  “Ribblongko ArgleBargleNangkle!”

I shrug my shoulders and hold my hands out.  “Sorry—I can’t understand you.”

She takes out a bullwhip and cracks it several times by my ear, making me jump and squeal.

“YOU MINE!  MY PROPERTY!  YOU MINE!!!”  (Interesting that those are the only phrases she can fully articulate.)

She’s crowded me into a corner.  I’m crouched against it, quivering in fear, head bowed into my knees, hugging my legs.  “Please…” I extend my hands in a don’t-hurt-me gesture.  “I can barely understand you…your buck nuts crazy is distorting your speech into an unintelligible—”

“YOG-THOTHEN BAHTHEN EN-COOLI-PUS!  YARGLE-BARGLE!”  She points at a rebar-crafted cage on the far side of the room, a gray bowl of gruel in the center of its floor.  She wants me to get in and be her man-slave.

Fuck that!  Kent Wayne ain’t meant for no jacked-up codependency where he loses his individuality a piece at a time, until he can’t pop boners and spends all his free time shopping at the Container Store!

FUCK.  THAT.

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

My body transforms back into the freewheeling, goofus-roofus Labrador that I’ll always be, deep down in my silly heart.  She screams in outrage and lunges forward, trying to grab me, but I squirt sideways and run past her.  As she bangs against the wall, I churn my legs with delirious abandon, accelerating into a balls-out sprint.  I crash through the window, and due to my adrenaline-flooded brain, everything goes slo-mo; shards of glass revolve and twinkle, catching the brilliant sunlight along their flats and edges.  The green grass ripples lazily, set aflutter by a warm gust of soothing summer wind.

Then I hit the lawn and I’m running like mad, my slobbery tongue flying out from the side of my mouth.  I’m all teeth and brightened eyes—when Labrador Wayne is running from the possibility of a whip-cracking ex, my shit-eating grin kicks into 11th gear.

“RIGTHOGGO BLINGCOCK!  YARG YO!  YARG YO, BLEGH NOOOOOOOOOOoooooogggggg…..”

I can’t understand her, but I can hazard a guess.  It goes something like:

“GET BACK HERE!  DAMN YOU!  DAMN YOU, KENT WAAAAAaaayyyynnnnee….”

Music to my ears.

😀

 

Is your crazy-as-fuck ex trying to transform you from a freewheeling Happy Face into a cowering wretch of a man who has to eat gruel from the bottom of a rebar-crafted cage?  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, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

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!  😲💪 😜