All seven sailors glared at the cup with hungry eyes. The youngest deckhand snatched the second to last straw out of the salt stained cup. It grew like a watered down seed in spring, inching away from the bottom. The captain drew last with a muted breath. He reached for the straw like it was a sheathed sword. He drew a dagger. All seven sailors shifted readily settling themselves into the beach. The captain watched the deckhand grab the remaining rum, pepper, and salt. The captains head fell back on the matted sand. Stars fluttered across the sky, while the sailors ate chunks from the captains thighs.
February 8, 2018