Welcome S.A. Garcia and meet
Zoolander's and Tolkien's glittery love child, Elven super model Prince Fabion.
S.A. Garcia: “Okay, Fabion, you complained about Amando from
“Temptation of the Incubus” receiving too much publicity. Now it’s your turn.”
Fabion: “Hey, wait a sec, you’re throwing me out here on my
own?”
SAG: “Yep. The stage is yours.”
Fabion: “Well hell, yeah, why not? My savvy biographer knows
I can handle any promotional heat. Snap, hello, a sexy supermodel elf prince
never lacks for a good story.
“Back in New Yorkshire, the happening center of Pinar’s
marketing realm, I spun wild tales for countless interviewers. I left out names
to protect the not-so-innocent, hey, I wasn’t a complete asshole, but I loved
telling stories about scandalous parties and hinting about who was bonking who
in high fashion. Face it, hmm, 95% of the supermodels were elves because our
skin didn’t react to the lethal pollution like human skin. Suffering from boils
or nasty acne never plagued elves. We were lovelier in every way: better hair,
skin, posture and grace. A few super boffo humans clawed their way into our
ranks, but they never lasted long. The pixie dust always did them in. Some
companies used dwarves for the shock value. Yuck.
“Humans read my exploits on readers in libraries or cafes.
The lack of paper led to fashion magazines being too expensive to produce. Posters,
well, unless someone had expendable bucks, the masses had to satisfy their lust
with projections of my elven perfection.
“Did I embellish the truth about my life? Not really. I
lived quite a high life. I was a supermodel, ha, a royal elven supermodel. It
didn’t get much better than that. Let me tell you, often I cleaned up the
stories for the masses. Too many humans hated to believe that elves drank or
pixie dusted their senses into numbness. Come on, we were elves, not frail,
clutching to life humans. Elves were special. We were on top of the milling
masses. But sometimes I looked around and man, seeing my world destroying
itself depressed me enough to seek oblivion.
“And I hate to say it, but elves were responsible for
screwing Pinar into the dirt. Somewhere along the line, a certain clan decided
to rape Pinar’s environmental resources. Yeah, hence the no paper because not
many trees remained. The notion drove some of us, like your lovely narrator,
into deep depression, ya know, the type of depression that bites an elf in the
ass when the mind races beyond sleep. The type that makes an elf drink too
much.
“Well fuck-a-duck, at least my royal clan didn’t screw over
Pinar. But we did sell out to the clan who screwed the pooch in a major manner.
That act still pisses me right the fuck off.
“But that is all in the past now. My story “An Elf for All
Centuries” describes what happened to me after New Yorkshire.
“Now I feel much better. Really. At first I doubted if I
would, but even I can adapt to life sans expensive conditioners and
electricity.
“Let’s see, yeah, hell, here’s a little slice of my previous
life.”
EXCERPT:
The
decorative trio strutted across the tree-choked park. Fabion slowed down to
examine the trees. Too many dead branches allowed the weak sun to leak past
their skeletal shapes. The park looked worse than last month. How disturbing.
A
few yards away, a large cluster of grubby humans stopped eating their picnic
lunch and stared in open awe. Today's relatively mild pollution allowed the
frail humans to remove their breathers. How rare. Fabion performed his number
two wave and smile combo. They waved back. Smart of them to acknowledge his
legendary beauty.
Lanaro
sniffed in disgust. "Talk about slumming! Why do you want to acknowledge those
scruffy breeders? It's bad enough they keep popping out their ugly brats. At
least elves understand control."
More
like male elves were close to sterile and the female elves had almost vanished.
"Lanaro, your nasty attitude is why the humans hate us. I don't care if
they enjoy the park. As long as they don't bother me, I don't bother them. Let
them enjoy the trees." Or what was left of the blighted growths. Fabion
shivered in distress. The dying foliage worried him.
He
needed to set that problem aside for later. A more important issue harassed
Fabion's nerves. The supermodel needed to urge Hestran to not hang around
Lanaro anymore. The bigoted elf emitted toxic vibes worse than the poisoned
sea. Even now his ill temper probably contributed to each tree's sad demise.
Fabion
turned away from Lanaro's downer attitude and resumed walking. A small human
girl, her pale, freckled face showing more dirt than flesh, raced up to him.
Her filthy fingers tugged at his trouser leg. Hey! Her grip almost made Fabion yank free. Watch the dirt, child, these wheat-hued, hand-spun silk trousers cost
plenty!
Fabion
calmed down and recovered from his near recoil. He needed to stop fretting and
act benevolent. Good promotional work helped maintain his smokin' hot image.
Never let a scandal-mag asshole using a long-range-laser digital camera capture
nonsense. Snap, click, boom, reputation as a sweet, generous elf shot to
smithereens. Scandal rags loved ripping down pure elves. To date, Fabion had
conquered the silly mess, but then again, bribes always solved a few ugly,
drunken problems.
Behind
him Lanaro gagged in fresh disgust. "Gross. I'd kick that foul thing back
into last century."
What
a supreme asshole. Despite his annoyance, a radiant smile brighter than the dim
sun shone forth on Fabion's face. He pitched his melodic voice into a wise,
sincere tone. He imagined the ancients had sounded fuckin' similar. "Yes,
my little one?"
The
walking dirtball smiled and clapped in glee. "Pretty elf, please touch my
head!"
How
quaint. Before he bent over, his fingers discovered a few hundred credits
hidden in his vest pocket. Whoops, he must have skimped on Matt's tip. No, his
fingers had unearthed his emergency cash stash. Good.
Why
did some human children regard an elf's touch as a spiritual blessing? Aside
from his incredible beauty and superior strength, Fabion owned no magical
powers. Still, making a human happy appealed to him.
His
blinding smile shone down on the unclean waif. Fabion leaned over and gingerly
patted her snarled hair. What felt sticky? Did something squirm against his
fingers? Fuck-a-yuck! His free hand slipped the child the credits.
"There,
my dear girl, is this what you want from me?"
An
excited squeal rang free. The dirty child curtsied and adoringly kissed Fabion's
clean fingers before she scampered off to where her less bold, yet equally
soiled, friends huddled under a struggling magnolia tree. Delighted squeals and
adoring exclamations drifted toward him along with curtseys. How cute.
Those
wise children understood the kicky score. Fabion blew the happy tykes many
sweet kisses. His act caused a tremendous giggling fit. He smiled and bowed.
Whispering
occurred until the girls stood in a line and curtseyed in solemn unison.
Fine
style. Fabion snickered in delight and waved goodbye. Okay, ego boy needed to
move along.
"You
touched that walking germ factory! She looked like she hadn't bathed in
months." The shuddering Hestran almost hyperventilated in distress.
"Fabion, why? Why do you do such rash things? Aren't you going to de-germ
yourself?"
Could
his boyfriend sound a little more snotty? Fabion didn't appreciate how Hestran
slathered de-germer over his thin fingers.
"No,
because we can't catch human diseases! I ain’t fucking worried about it."
Fabion exhaled and forced himself to smile. "Please, Hestran, today I
enjoy my glittering king of the advertising world status even if our world is a
filthy, polluted armpit. Think, my killer new contract with Celebrant Sparkling
Herbal Drink tucks another primo feather in my crowded cap. I feel fucking
wonderful. Don't you feel happy for me?"
Hestran
pouted again. "I can't believe you agreed to work with a Walmontech-owned
company."
“There’s the teaser!
“Oh right, the boss wants me to add in the blurb. Duh.”
BLURB:
Elf Prince Fabion enjoys the perfect supermodel lifestyle
until wizard Matradorian chucks him back in time to save Henda, the sexy,
powerful elf king. Since the death of his lover, Henda has lingered in a
half-alive, half-dead state. Surprisingly, Fabion is a spiritual match for
Henda's dead lover, so only he can save the dying king.
Fabion uses his sexy bod and sweet lovin' to revive the elf
king. All seems well until he realizes that by saving Henda, his own timeline
was destroyed and he must stay in this ancient land forever. Fabion pitches the
biggest temper tantrum of any century.
Soon a new threat emerges which puts his life in fresh
danger. Now who wants to kill him?
****
“And cut! Now here’s the important stuff, like where to buy
the book and other details about S.A Garcia, or, as I plan to call her, da
boss.”
Facebook: Sandra Ann Garcia
Twitter: @SAGarcia_Writer
“Hey, look for S.A. Garcia’s shorts in the Silver Shorts
section at Silver Publishing. Da boss has a few silly stories about wizards and
fairies.
“It’s been cool! See ya!”
