My phone lights up, split-screening the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff.  Their four-star chairman barks, “Kent!  Get Chuck Norris!  We need him for a mission!” 

“Goddammit,” I grumble, slipping my dick back into my boxers.  “Was just about to start watching myfriendshotmom dot com.”

“You can bust a load after you’ve saved the world!  Hell, maybe even while you’re in the middle of doing it!  We pay you damn good money to keep on eye on his sanity—now get that karate-ape ready to go!”

“Fine, fine.”  Douchebags.

I walk into my garage gym, where shirtless Chuck Norris is wailing away on the heavy bag, screaming, “Pussy!  Commie!  Pussy!  Commie!” with each skull-crushing hit.  He yanks off his pants and launches into a series of butt-naked curls, staring intently at himself in a full-length mirror. 

“Kent!  What can I do ya for?  Have you come to learn some ancient karate?”  (He pronounces it super American:  kuh-RATTY).  “Yer people taught me—I owe them the skin off my well-shaven balls!”

“Uh…I don’t think they want it.”  I rub the back of my neck.  “And for the hundredth time, I’m Korean-American.  That has nothing to do with your martial arts backgrou—”

“Stop trynna confuse me with yer damn intellectual!”  He does a few more curls, grunts in satisfaction, and drops the weights.  CLUNK CLUNK.  “Whaddaya want?”  He turns around and puts his hands on his hips.

I shield my eyes from his old man scrotum.  “You can put on some pants, for starters.  Pentagon wants you on a short notice mission.”

“Hot diggity!”  He runs over to the fridge, yanks out a beer, and chugs it so hard that the veins in his eyeballs quiver and bulge.  “Aaaaah!”  He yanks out a six-pack and runs into the house, dripping sweaty ass juice all over the floor.  “Lemme rinse off!  Nothing better than a six-pack a’ shower beers!”

“Riiiight.”  I glance down at my phone.  “He’s gonna take a shower.”

“Bird’s on the way,” the chairman says.  “And tell him it’s time to put on his game face—he’s in for the fight of his motherfucking life.”

ONE HOUR LATER…

“I can’t see shit!” Chuck yells, leaning out from the helo skid.  “Where the fuck is this goddamn threat?”

“I don’t know!” I yell back.  “They just said get in the air and—”

“There!”  He points to our right, directing my attention toward a bunch of women raising havoc in the suburb.  Five are rocking a battered police car, a couple are feasting on desecrated bodies, while dozens run amuck through sidewalks and lawns.  Smoke trails rise from burning houses, water jets from broken hydrants. 

“Buncha middle-aged lady folk!  Ain’t no match for my blue-jeaned roundhouse!  Or my beautiful right fucking hook!”  He flexes his no-sleeve bicep (the rest of him is clad in tight eighties denim) and gives it a big ol’ tongue-slopping kiss.

I tell him to wait, we should gather more info, but he jumps off the helo and screams, “EEEEEEHHHHHH-HOOOOOOOOO!!!”  As soon as he hits the pavement below, he tucks, rolls, and surges up into an 80s martial arts stance—body bladed sideways, rear hand high and up by his collar, lead hand out and low for maximum cool points.

A second later, he’s swarmed by women.  He throws his trademark devastating roundhouse, but to my jaw-dropping surprise, it has no effect.  They quickly dogpile him and coat him in bodies. 

“Kent!”  He reaches up from the pile in sheer desperation.  “This ain’t no bunch a’ regular women—they’re Karens, goddammit!  Throw me your dick and pull me outta this shitshow!  I know you’re packing a fuckload of heat—I been sneaking a peek while you’re passed out in bed!”

What the fuck?  My brow wrinkles in consternation.  I shake my head, forcibly restoring my composure and focus.  The priority right now is saving his ass. 

“Here you go!”  I unwind my dick from around my thigh and throw it over the side of the helo.  Just as quickly, it shrivels back up into a frightened little nub.  Fuck, I should’ve known—girth and length have no power.  Not if I’m near a cock-shriveling Karen.

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

I fire my re-expanded wiener from the hip, blasting out smeg, bdick (a mix of butt/dick), and gag-inducing cum at the horde of Karens.  They twist and scream as their faces melt and their skin sloughs off and puddles on the ground.  Our pilot swoops in, Chuck grabs a skid, then clambers aboard as I fire-hose the street.

“Mission accomplished!”  Chuck gasps, clapping me on the shoulder.  “Can I have a turn?”  He glances at my piece and gives me a hopeful look.

“Nope.”  I keep blasting away, gunning down the last of the stragglers.

He clears his throat.  “Right.  Uh…after we get back, you wanna do some naked bicep curls and maintain eye contact in a full-length mirror?”

“Definitely not.”

“Whatever,” he mutters.  “Communist pussy.”

Kent Wayne wins again?  I think?

Has Chuck been overwhelmed by murderous Karens?  Never fear!  Buy my books, summon the foulest secretions your body can muster, and fight off the horde while saving his ass! 

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 

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, 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!     #Kindle #KindleUnlimited #writingcommunity #writer #booktok #writerscommunity #writing

Who would have thought I’d compete in the Great British Baking Show, much less get to motherfucking Bread Week???  The audition was tough as all get out, but I’ve been killing it since the season began.

Unfortunately, my newest bake, an olive and garlic sourdough loaf, has just shit the bed inside the oven.  Black smoke erupts from the door, prompting Paul Hollywood to scream, “WHICH OF YOU MORONS ENDANGERED OUR LIVES?”  After he douses it with a nearby extinguisher, he gives me a blue-eyed dick-shriveling glare.  “Get it together, Wayne.”

I mouth, “Get it together, Wayne,” under my breath in a mocking, pissed-off tone.  What.  A.  DICK.  I’ll reflect on that later; right now, I have to save my bake and—

Noel yells, “Bakers, you have THIRTY SECONDS!” 

FUCK!  What-do-I-do-WHAT-DO-I-DO…

“Step away from your bakes!”

FUCK!!

“Wayne!  You’re up first!”

Fuckety-fuck-fuck FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK!!!!

I look at my competitors, who are all regarding me with amusement, triumph, and dude-you-are-FUCKED.  I swivel back and forth, whimpering like a frightened bee-yotch when Paul barks, “WAYNE!  STOP WASTING MY TIME, YOU DESPICABLE PYROMANIAC!”

I shuffle up to the judge’s table, trying not to wring my hands. 

“Nothing to show, eh?”  Paul snorts.  “From the very beginning, I knew you weren’t a serious competitor.” 

Sweat rolls off my brow.  I’m fucked and everyone knows it. 

UnLESS…

“Behold!”  I whip out my loaf-size dick and slam it onto the table.  Ka-THUNK.  “Tastier than any of your hoity-toity bakes!” 

Paul reddens and levels a finger at my face.  “You’re a disgrace, Wayne!  Take your disgusting genitalia and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

Meanwhile, Prue stares at my piece and plays with her neckline.  “It’s…”  She clears her throat into her fist.  “Oh my.”  She also reddens, but for a completely different reason.

“What???”  Paul swivels toward her.  “Are you seriously giving this an iota of consideration?”

I reach in my pocket for a spray-can of salted garlic-butter.  “Look!”  I give my wiener a couple of spritzes.  “It’s got loads of flavor!”

Prue licks her lips and whispers, “Yes…loads…”

“Oh that is IT!”  Paul grabs her shoulders.  “Snap out of it woman!  He’s ruined the show!  You need to—”

“Hands off!”  I stride between them and shove him back.  “Calm the fuck down!”

Paul snarls and tries to uppercut my nuts.  I see it coming and pivot sideways.  Unfortunately, Prue gets it in right in the crotch.

“OCH!” she hollers.  “YE PUNCHED ME IN ME FLAPS!”

The entire tent breaks out in a fight.  Paul versus Prue, baker versus baker, staff versus staff.  I scramble around, trying to find my way out of the ferocious melee.  A few seconds in, I spot Paul charging at me, hands extended in absolute rage. 

“C’MERE YOU!”  His fingers close around my throat.

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

Prue, lying on her back in a disheveled heap, wipes her lips with the back of her wrist.  Star-core glimmer lights in her eyes, tracing outward from her pupils to her temples and cheeks, engraving her neck, torso, and legs with brilliant shining lines.  In a matter of seconds, she’s enveloped in an array of multicolored circuits.  They form into a series of launchers and ovens, coating her in a mech-suit of Baking Show armor. 

She levels an oven-hand launcher at Paul Hollywood.  “Stand.  Your.  Ass.  DOWN.  Let the Man Whore go.”  Her shoulders sound with whirs and clicks, erecting smaller launchers that ring with upbeat dings.

“Now Prue…”  Paul raises his hands and chuckles nervously.  “You know I always mean the best.  Deactivate the armor and we can—”

Fuh-DOOMP!  A bun flies from her shoulder into his mouth. 

“HGGHLPHH!”  He spits it out and shouts, “Now wait just a minute!  WAIT JUST A—AAAGHHH!!!”  He shields his face, protecting himself from rapid-fire muffins and donuts.  The Baking Show host turns and runs, but Prue isn’t fazed.  She tracks his position with a servo-powered gun-arm. 

Holographic reticles light up in her bubble-helm, shining with tic-marks and rotating symbols.  Right as they condense around her eye, she deadpans, “Gotcha, motherfucker.”  A penis-shaped loaf of crusty French bread shoots from her weaponized, mech-suited launcher-hand. 

It sails through the air, on a bullseye course with Paul’s fleeing anus.  Fifty yards away, he shrieks, “GOD IN HEAVEN!” as it pierces his jeans, slides into his rectum, and tickles the base of his skull with its tip.  He lands face-down, ass up in the field.

Prue turns toward me, mechanized joints clunking and hissing.  “Call me, he-slut.”  She jerks her head and throws me a smile.  “Now get the hell out of here before he comes to his senses.”

Don’t have to tell me twice!  I sprint away from the tent, cackling like the cat that got the motha’fuckin’ cream.  Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

Has Paul Hollywood turned into a complete fucking asshole?  Never fear!  Buy my books, summon a baking-themed mech-suit for sweet old Prue, and devastate his rectum with a phallus-shaped loaf!

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 

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, 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!     #Kindle #KindleUnlimited #writingcommunity #writer #booktok #writerscommunity #writing