The keyboard beckons, and I obey.
Every morning, muses and concepts come streaming through my window and crowd closely around my sleeping head. “Wake up, motherfucker,” they whisper. “It’s time to get going.” Sometimes a quick jerk-session grants me a few extra minutes of snoozery, but more often than not, it fills my brain with a short story about making love to my fist.
(I’m sure this doesn’t surprise any of you)
So despite having triple-starched my sheets with my mountain dew-infused DNA, I’m unable to go back to sleep. The muses are knocking too loudly; it feels like little kids are screaming “nanananaNAnah!” into my ears for hours on end.
“All right, all right,” I grumble. “I’ll write something down.” I fire up the Keurig, sit down with a mug of joe, and let my fingers do their magic. Most times I’m going off a bare wisp of an idea, which I let unfold in my mind as I plink away on the keyboard. Sometimes I write a single sentence without knowing the rest, then iterate off that. This is one of those days.
I try to write: “And then my cock flopped out, donned a lab-coat, and began assembling a retro-fitted warp-drive,”
But what comes out instead is: “The morning blaze of Euclid’s clarity, wrapped in twain with ephemeral nightmare…come hell come horror come biomechanical Faust, my stalwart eye will ever ring true—”
Da FUQ?? I pull my hands away, staring at the bunk-ass draft that’s flowed from my fingertips. I select it all, click delete, then try again.
“O relentless scrimshaw, coat our minds with thy fatuous substance, so that e’en though our thoughts be stifled and smothered, they will shine like undying—”
AAAHHH!!! Why in the FUCK am I writing all emo??? I swear to Odin that I’m gonna—
“Hello Kent.” A sinister chuckle sounds from behind me.
I turn around and glimpse a Hot Topic-clad silhouette lurking in the corner. “You.” My eyes narrow.
Emo-poet emerges from the shadows, inspecting his nails like some cut-rate Bond villain. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re writing like you are. There’s a simple reason for it.” He holds up a bound and gagged hamster. Its eyes are wide and panicked, and it’s breathing in muffled, panicked gasps. “Your brain-hamster, Kent—the one that runs on the infernal wheel within your head and gifts you with ideas beyond compare. While you were sleeping, I replaced it with my Emo-hamster.”
My mouth drops open in dawning horror. “You…you FUCKING MONSTER!”
He chuckles again. “Flattery will get you nowhere. For now, get back to writing about pale vampire sex and atrociously dyed hair.”
“EAT SMEGMA!” I scream, and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
At the same time my skull opens up and force-ejects the emo-hamster out from my noggin, True Hamster kicks free of emo-poet’s pale, lifeless hands and squirms like Houdini, divesting himself of his tiny restraints. As he falls toward the floor, he reaches over his back to a giant harness (giant for him), and draws a nine-barrel minigun that spins up into a clockwise whir. He hits the floor and ninja-rolls. As emo-hamster sails through the air, True Hamster starts firing from the hip, riddling emo-hamster’s body and ejection seat with a kajillion little rounds. BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA! Emo-poet screams in despair as emo-hamster jerks and writhes, then detonates into a spectacular little fireball as the compressed gas tank in his ejection seat ignites and explodes.
True Hamster levels his gatling at emo-poet, who’s now clutching the smoking remains of emo-hamster. True Hamster’s eyes narrow like Eastwood’s, and I imagine if he could speak, he would say something like, “Get the fuck out of here, you filthy goddamn phrase-fucker.”
As emo-poet scrambles out of my studio, I exchange a furry high five with my loyal little friend: True Hamster. OH yeah!
Has some whiny douche replaced the precious hamster within your brain and inserted their own twisted rodent? 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 Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here: Combined Edition I’ve started a podcast: Logical Idiots! If you want to check it out on YouTube, see it here: Logical Idiots on YouTube and help two complete morons out by subscribing, liking, and commenting! Here’s the iTunes page: Logical Idiots on iTunes. Also, 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! 😲💪 😜
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Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 