Silver Shorts 2012, Week 26

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Welcome to the Silver Shorts! Every week, we will be giving the Silver Publishing authors a prompt or four to play with and one week to submit flash fiction and short stories to be offered as free reads to our customers. This week's themes are:

"If I can only get my hands on . . . "
"Did I really do...?"
"I've got things to see and people to do . . . ."
"A sign that says 'Do not enter'...makes me want to..."

This week's anthology includes:

Cthulhu on the Rocks, Part 1 by S.A. Garcia

Check back every week for new anthology releases, and happy reading!

Excerpt
"Cthulhu on the Rocks, Part 1"
By S.A. Garcia

Claude glanced across the crowded bar. He swore the same foul smoke drifted in the air, the wisps suspended in place since 1999. The law might ban smoking, but not at this sweaty Georgia leather festival.

He tugged at his too-tight leather trousers. Claude had been coming here for years, wondering if his heart’s desire might arrive fluttering on feathery soft wings. Not that he wanted to fuck an angel, well, still, an angel sounded sweet, but romantic Claude knew his heart wanted something special, aside from a heart attack from eating too many cheese steaks, pizza fries and greasy onion rings.

More beer should dull his romantic ache. He slurped down a mouthful.

Across the dim space, a tall gentleman clad in a long black robe entered and sat at a back table. How weird. Judging from the shiny silver scythe clasped in his hands, the dude must be a member of the bizarre religious cult that had purchased Joe Miller’s farm. Poor whisky drinking, gambling Joe probably spun in his grave.

Lissome Pete, he clad in his usual tight denim short-shorts and strategically-ripped red silk tank top, strutted toward the gentleman’s table. Claude watched Pete’s every sexy move. After a minute, Pete turned and shivered. His perfect, except for a broken nose and a raspberry rash, face appeared troubled. No matter, Claude’s heart and cock fluttered in pork-rolled desire. A few sweet angel feathers tickled his throat. When would delightful Pete notice Claude’s true love?

He waited until Pete reached the filthy bar. “Hey, why the long face, Pete?”

Pete shrugged sexy shoulders crafted from sugar, spice and long sweaty hours at the gym. “I don’t know, the dude at the back table is super weird. He makes me feel odd inside.”

Claude’s heart clawed against the fatty deposits encasing the wilting muscle and tried to beat faster. The creepy son of a bitch had upset sweet Pete! “Odd how?”

Pete’s misty gray eyes, they the color of a week-old kitten’s first soft fur, blinked in befuddlement. “Like my poor soul is destined to come to a fiery end via a lethal explosion.” Ten more blinks added serious punctuation.

Wow, Claude never suspected that Pete knew how to string together such a dramatic sentence. “Did he threaten you?”

“No, but he did order the strangest drink. A Cthulhu on the Rocks."