I slow my breath as I carefully cut around the construction-paper outline I’ve traced with glitter-infused magic marker, then raise it up so that its two layers unfold into a bisected pair of hearts.  A few dabs of Elmer’s glue on the back of each one (I glance quickly to either side to make sure no one’s watching, then take a quick suck off the glue bottle’s orange nozzle—YUM!) and press them a few inches up and to the left of Taylor Swift’s face.  Don’t worry, it’s not the real Taylor; it’s a poster of her I’ve taped up next to the side of my bed.  Jeez, I’m not a psycho or anything!

(Don’t you say a word about the pictures I’ve got of her on my fridge, in my bathroom, in my wallet, and in the closeted shrine which I’ve decorated with the bleached skulls of small rodents.)

I put a couple of origami unicorns next to her arms and her legs, then take a step back, nodding in satisfaction like a proud handyman.  Sigh…I hope one day she’ll ask me out.  I’d be the perfect gentleman; first I would woo her by taking to her the latest Avengers movie, then I’d pick out the finest Wetzel’s pretzel that I could get my hands on.  I’d even pay them a little extra to cut the jalapenos and pepperonis into heart-shaped smiley faces.  We’d each snack on one end, slowly bringing our grease-covered lips closer together.  Closer…closer…CLOSER…and then?

Anal.

JUSTKIDDINGHAHAHA!  Cripes, being a Man Whore for years on end has screwed up my idea of a romantic date night!  That’s why I’m trying to get back in touch with my sensitive side by making sweet sixteen style collages.  Yeah, I TOTALLY agree with you:  for now, let’s put a pin in stuff like choking, rimming, felching, slapping, squirting, and ball-gags.  Eeew, gross!  I know, right???  SO extra!

Anyhoo, it’s time for me to practice making hot pockets; when Taylor gets comfortable enough to visit me in my studio, I want to be able to be able woo her with a mind-blowing snack.  Little word of advice:  if you’re trying to make a great hot pocket, don’t follow the directions on the box.  You gotta—

“KENT FUCKING WAYNE!”

Oh NO!

“YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS!  OPEN THE DOOR, YOU PIG-SLUT FUCKBOY!”

A ham-sized fist pounds on my door.  I cup my mouth with a hand and call out, “Go AWAY, Martha!  The judge says you have to keep five hundred yards away from me at all times!”  I try to keep my voice from trembling, but only partially succeed.

BOOM!  I hear the door give way to her massive, prison-hardened shoulder.  She charges into my bedroom and I see that her sleeves have been ripped off her jumpsuit; her tattoos ripple and undulate across her scarily developed arms.  A second later she choke-slams me against the wall, pinning me up against my favorite Taylor Swift poster.  She glances briefly over at it, then back at me.

“What the fuck is this, Whorebag?  Have you been cheating on me?”  Her eyes narrow into dangerous, glinting slits.

“KKKkkkk…please…you’re hurting me, Martha!”  My face turns beet-red as her calloused fingers clamp against my throat.  I try to pry them off but it’s no use; she possesses the strength of ten roided-out Bros.

“They say man have a g-spot.”  She squeezes my cheeks together, forcing my lips open, then jams her other hand’s index and middle fingers into my mouth.  “And I plan on finding yours…as soon as you lick the cupcake batter off my fingers.  How do they taste, Kent?”

Tears stream down my face and I manage to garble, “AHGODTHEY’REDELICIOUS!  OMNOMNOMPFGLOMPF!”

“Enough good cop.”  She withdraws her fingers from my mouth and slaps me hard across the face.  “Time for bad cop.  Get ready to squeal, little piggy!”

“No—NO!”  I buck like a fish out of water and scramble away.  As she hooks her massive hands into my waistband and tears my pants apart using her Hulk-like strength—RIIIIIIIIPPPP!—I grab my eReader and open it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

“THIS PIG-SLUT FUCKBOY IS MINE, INSIDER TRADING SCUM!”

VRRMMMMM!!!!  Jessica Rabbit crashes through the wall in an armored motorcycle, leaping off it as she turns it on its side and sends it rocketing toward Martha.  Under normal circumstances, several hundred pounds of high-velocity metal would crush the average joe into a pasty red smear, but Martha Stewart is anything but ‘the average joe.’  She grabs on to the motorcycle with her giant ape-hands, lifts it high above her head, and—

—“RUAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”—

—suplexes it into the bedroom carpet, smashing it into a sparking mess of steel and chrome.  She rises to her feet, panting heavily and grinning like a maniac.

“Bring it, bitch.”

Jessica charges, cocking her right knee forward and her right fist back, torquing her body into a vicious superman punch and hitting Martha square in the jaw.  Martha grunts and ankle-picks Jessica, sending both of them to the floor.

Oh hey…catfight…

As they grapple for dominance, I start beating my wiener; I can’t help it.  Jessica locks eyes with me as she’s defending a choke, and screams, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, KENT!”

Crapskies, she’s right!  This is no time to perv out—my life is on the line!  I run out of my studio as fast as I can, thanking Odin for the fact that my g-spot remains unhammered by Martha’s sausage-thick fingers, all of which have been roughened by years of kneading, rolling, and flipping.

 

Has a crazy Food Network felon broken into your home, and is now trying to snatch your anal virginity?  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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