God Is In The House

The place was called Olympus.

It looked like it had been there forever.

Posters from the 70’s with pictures of Gyros hung in the grimy windows; Jackie Wilson belted one out from the old Wurlitzer in the corner. As Alec and Simone entered, a booth of inebriated twenty-somethings were placing their order to a halfway pretty, but tired looking, waitress.

“Don’t tell me we came all this way for souvlaki.” Simone complained.

“Patience is a virtue, babe,” Alec said, directing her attention to the man who stood behind the counter, counting receipts.

The guy looked to be in his sixties, but he had the body of a Titan. He stood about 6’ 5”, with a massive chest and huge corded arms, barely contained by the T-shirt he wore. He kept his long, silver mane tied back in a ponytail, and had a thick, neat beard. He also had a huge beer-belly, but rather than implying weakness, it made him seem more powerful, larger than life.

“Oh… god…,” Simone swore, clutching Alec’s arm.

“You got that right,” Alec replied.

View this story's 9 comments.