The Salt Monger - and other short stories

The Steak Monger

My mouth salivated with anticipation as my meal was brought towards me. This was my first dining experience within the establishment whose reputation is renowned for their expertly made steaks.

I had read all that I could, I had spoken to all that I could and I had researched all that I could, and now it was my turn to finally taste, all that I could.
The plate the was placed in front of me, it's golden finish sparkled from the crystal chandelier that hung above the table. The tables deep red cloth complemented the burgundy juice that seeped from that deliciously delicate divided piece of pure artistic butchery. I could feel the rush of excitement, I could wait no longer, I carved a slice, placed it to my lips and bit into its soft tender flesh.

I chewed.

I chewed again.

My gazed locked into the waiter's.

I chewed a third and final time.

I swallowed, my gaze never leaving that of the waiter's for I knew that he knew what this was. I also knew that he now knew that I instantly discovered the secret to this steaks deliciousness.

The slice of meat slipped effortlessly down my throat, all the while my eyes still locked in that all knowingly stare.

I arose from my chair and demanded to see the person responsible for this, this monstrosity. I was lead away to the separate drinking lounge. There I waited within the confines of the soft leather armchairs that dressed the dimly lit lounge.

A few minutes went passed until I was greeted and joined by the man of the hour, the creator of an apparent culinary marvel, the owner of the establishment and my old colleague, John Worster.
"So you have awoken him" I said softly before he could utter a single syllable.

"I did" he replied, his faced void and vacant of any emotion.

"You awoke him, breed him like some animal and now serve the flesh of his offspring to make a quick buck?" My tone had gotten firmer.

"That, my old friend, I did not" he replied, in a more lighter tone. He continued, "this establishment, that piece of meat, all are his ideas. You see he came to me one night in a vision. He told me that he was ready once more to come out from the ocean, to come out from hiding and once again rule over the human creatures who had cast him away all those years ago. He told me that to consume his flesh would mean to begin the great work of turning us all into our purpose."
"Our... purpose?" I questioned.

"Our purpose," he replied, "the purpose of being obedient and loving subjects of the great Cthulhu!" He exclaimed with some form of euphoric joy I had never witnessed within the expressions of any mortal.
"You can't, you mustn't!" I protested.

He smiled, "you are now just as integral to his plan as I".
With that comment my face sunk, dread befell upon me and sunk into my stomach just as that piece of meat had. I realised it was now within my digestive system, it's cursed purpose now excreting into my body as it absorbed its abominable aspiration. I ran to the toilet, my only hope was to regurgitate the meat and hope I would only partially be infected.

As I ran I could hear my old friend laughing wildly in the background, "it's too late for you, it's too late for us all!" He shouted, "ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!" That chant rang through my ears, pierced my brain and burned its way to the back of my eyes. 'I still have time' I thought to myself, 'I still have time'....