Steven Seagal walks into the room. I put my back against the wall, ensuring he can’t see into my open-assed patient-gown. “You’re not a doctor! Get the fuck out of here!”
He taps the stethoscope on his chest. “This says different.” Then he puts on a rubber glove—the latex snaps loudly against his wrist. “Now show me the goods so we can commence with castration.”
“That’s not what I’m here for! This is a preventative checkup!”
He eyes the glove with a critical eye, then gives it a couple extra snappy-snap-snaps. “First we fist.”
“What?” I sputter. “ ‘FISTING?’ What are you even TALKING ABOUT???”
He taps the stethoscope again. “In case you haven’t noticed—”
“YOU’RE NOT A DOCTOR!” I scream. “YOU’RE THE GROSSEST MAN ALIVE—YOU THREW ON A LABCOAT AND A GODDAMN STETHOSCOPE!”
He shrugs out of his labcoat and pulls off his shirt. The odor from his chest hair emanates visible stink lines—as if the rapey skunk from Looney Tunes burrowed into its center, shat up a storm, then ate its own shit and re-shat it out. That’s how bad it smells.
“Oh GOD.” I pinch my nose shut. My eyes start watering. “What in the FUCK.”
“It’s my diet,” he explains. “Week-old sewer pizza, along with daily helpings of urban-foraged greens.”
“Urban foraging?” I clutch my belly and gag. “You eat shit on the medians that grows off pollution???”
“Don’t be a prude.” He starts moving toward me.
FUCK. There’s no way I can fight him off, not in my current stink-crippled state. So I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
“Hey Kent!” Gary Busey shouts from one room over. “Figured you could use a hand from the second grossest man alive! I just shoved a fuckton of metal into my prison wallet and stuck myself in a warmed-up MRI machine! Hit the deck, if you wanna keep your head attached to your body!”
“Prison wallet?” My brow crinkles in puzzlement. Why would sticking a bunch of metal objects up your ass, then laying down in a magnetic resonance imagi—
Oh.
Oh SHIT.
He turned his butt into a goddamn railgun.
In the other room, Gary cuts loose with a preparatory scream—rrrrRRRRHHHH—as the MRI clunks through its chunka-chunk sequence. I drop to the deck and cover my ears. Just in time—the wall implodes and a buttload (literally) of metal objects fly through the air and tear Steven into blood-soaked, flesh-speckled bits. The deluge lasts for several minutes (how much shit can one ass hold???) before tapering off and finally stopping.
“Whew!” Gary Busey tromps in, clad in yellow-stained filthy whitey-tighteys. “Glad I could get that outta my butt!” He nods at Steven’s gory remains. All that’s left is a pair of cut-off feet—the rest is spattered across the walls, floor and ceiling. “Heh!” Gary puts his hands on his hips. “Guy really needs to pull it together!” He raises an eyebrow. “Get it? ‘Pull it together?’ Can’t really do that when you don’t have hands!”
“Or anything else, for that matter.” I cast a disbelieving look around at the red-drenched room.
“HA!” Gary laugh-wheeze-hisses like the old fuck he is.
Kent Wayne wins again…I think?
Has Steven Seagal threatened you with a snappy-gloved fisting? Never fear! Buy my books, summon Gary Busey (complete with a weaponized rectum and MRI machine), and blast Steven apart with a nasty-ass railgun!
Get A Door into Evermoor on kindle here: A Door into Evermoor. Paperback here: A Door into Evermoor, paperback. 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
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Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 