Medieval Times

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j 1000+ pointsk 500+ pointsl 100+ pointsm 1+ points - Newb
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I used to work at Medieval Times. I only lasted three months – the shortest, most humiliating jobs I ever held.

The top tables were the worst slots to wait on. Patrons were seated where we serf wenches had to serve them over our shoulders, which took steady hands and sturdy arm strength. Having to slightly slouch over proved tricky when serving piping hot coffee, soup, tinfoil-wrapped mini-chickens, and pitchers of beer and Coke. We served chickens with thongs. Spilling sucked. My cleaning bill exceeded my hourly wage, because the patron's garment cleaning bill came out of our individual wages.

I would average between 15 and 25 dollars in tips per show. If I got less than ten dollars, I would give it to all kitchen workers (this happened often).

And the jousters were dicks.

Anywho, here’s my poetry!

Medieval Times

Ladies and Lords,

I am your serf.

My leotards are tight

To secure my girth.

I'll serve you quality ribs,

But, here's the scoop:

The soup and beer

Will make you to poop.

The tournament,

It shall begin soon.

With jousting knights in shiny armor,

On horses white as the moon.

With one survivor left,

You will be thrilled;

A grand cheer of praise

For those who were killed.

All bets are off,

But the outcome is clear.

The jouster in blue

Has been winning all year.

But let me go back to another time and place…

It was three hours ago,

And my boss was real pissed.

He's a queer pimpled fella’.

The reprimand went like this:

"Your mine, low life serf!

With every move on my turf!

You'll do as I say for an hour!

Watch your step, my golden flower."

Now Ladies and Lords,

Don't frown at me like that.

This is Buena Park.

And we're all on that crack.

I must confess, the last show had a tragedy.

I leaned in too low,

Spilling hot coffee

Down a loose brown blouse

Of a Swedish hot-tottie.

I apologized profusely,

And she accepted;

But, I will foot the bill

For the dry-cleaning method.

It comes outta’ my wages,

Which aren’t all that much.

So on gratuities I rely

For tomorrow's lunch.

Which brings me to yesterday…

The kitchen was a bustlin',

The floors were slick,

The boss was on watch.

He wanted my dick.

The swinging double doors

Flew open in a flash,

Leaving your young serf

Flat on his ass.

Six pitchers of beverages

Spilled onto the floor,

And, our soaked serf was yelling,

"NO MORE, MAN, NO MORE!"

As I lay on the floor,

The wenches howled in laughter.

"Look at that wreck,” they roared.

”What a disaster!"

Since this show is timed,

I had to be stable.

I sprung up and refilled,

Serving my table.

Ladies and Lords,

I MUST LEAVE YOU FAST!

But, you'll see me on turf

With a flag held half mast.

As I rushed down the stairs,

I could smell the ripe stench

Of horse shit and flies

Whose thirst could not be quenched.

My timing on cue,

I made mid-show procession.

A march of flags due,

We aligned in succession.

As we marched to the crowd,

My sneakers were squeaking

Through the splash of manure.

Had my footsies a’stinking.

A voice from within said,

"This job is so through!"

I agreed so politely.

"Good day to you too."

So, here I stand,

Telling you tales;

I'll be back in a moment,

Serving the last King of Wales.

Last night’s gratuity,

Was less than desired.

So, I gave it all up

To the kitchen’s work hired.

But, oh, my royal Lords and Ladies!

The Queen's been defrocked,

And the King's been dethroned.

And you stiffed me as well,

Like a dog with no bone.

You enjoyed beer and soup,

And that's a delight.

But, I slipped in a potion;

The restrooms are to the right.

I must leave you now,

For tomorrow I'll be fired.

And I jest you the finger,

As your rectums retire.

13 Comments on "Medieval Times"

MSG's picture
Comment Quality Moderatori 2000+ points
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Apparently Medieval Times is a restaurant with a theme. Never heard of it, but then I don't get out much. Had you lived in (say) the 11th century, your experience (had you ever found such a thing as a restaurant) would have been very different, much rougher, with quite public unisex toilets, or a communal chamber pot, should you make it to a sleeping accommodation.

prarie doggin's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Quality Moderatorg 4000+ points
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I am quite familiar with the Medieval Times in NJ, but I never had a wench serve me with a thong. Maybe I should have ordered the chicken. Nice poem there ttbl. The horrors you endured as a server pale in comparison to the horrors of those of us that had to pass that food through the digestive system.

CC also known as Coach Crap's picture
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The Excalibur Hotel in Vegas has a similar show.The Medieval Times I know of is in Lyndhurst.Five minutes fom The Sports Complex.It was down the street from my high school reunion at The Whiskey Cafe.

runninggrrl2's picture
Comment Quality Moderatork 500+ points
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I went there once in high school on a field trip. I wasn't very impressed--I didn't care much for the food and the show was kind of kitschy. My mom came with our class as a chaperone and she apparently loved it. I wasn't a fan of the no-silverware deal and the flat soda. Thanks for cluing us in on what it was like to work there. Sounds like a crazy place to work.

_______
An apple a day keeps the ExLax away!

An apple a day keeps the ExLax away!

neverregular's picture
m 1+ points - Newb
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Like the poem....I've always wanted to go there,but if that's how they treat their servers ill gladly stay away. I've been a server for 13yrs and if I made 10 a night or had to pay for cleaning id be real pissed or never would have worked there in the first place. Thank god you got out. They treated as if you were in real medievil times

When in doubt, POOP it ALL out!

Butt of the Joke's picture
l 100+ points
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The last stanza was my favorite.But I'm confused,are you saying the "potion" you slipped into the beer and soup was horse manure?Wow,you must have REALLY hated those people.
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More people flush than they do wash their hands.

More people flush than they do wash their hands.

Thunderbox's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Quality Moderatorj 1000+ points
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Great poem, thin blue line. You kind of sum up the weirdness that goes on in my village of a Sunday evening.....except we have Frog slaves instead of paid waiters/waitresses.....much more fun!

The voice of sanity

Butt of the Joke's picture
l 100+ points
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BLUE line?Be careful T-box,some may flatline at the sight of blue line and not BROWN line.By the way,the frog costumes sound even more degrading than the poem above.I hope you didn't get stuck in one.
_______
More people flush than they do wash their hands.

More people flush than they do wash their hands.

Anonymous Coward's picture
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I didn't read the poem but I did click on the link to Medieval Times. I had no idea such ass holery existed.

shitwit's picture
k 500+ points
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Somehow, I find myself imagining that if you eat there you will inevitably wind up with the shits. I mean there's horses and horse poop everywhere... and then they serve food too? Sounds an awful lot like those petting zoos that shut down when the kids feed the animals, then play with animal poop, then eat lunch and get food poisoning. I can just imagine the place must smell like Old Country Buffet with a trailer of horses backed up to the kitchen. Thanks for the story, I don't have quite the appetite I had just moments ago.

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Rock-n-roll! Poopy-poo!

Rock-n-roll! Poopy-poo!

prarie doggin's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Quality Moderatorg 4000+ points
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Hey shitwit! The place is set up as an arena with a large open area in the center where sword fighting, jousting etc take place. There are only a few horses, so smell isn't as much an issue as the b.o. coming from the slobs seated around you. Just picture a large sports stadium, you're packed into general seating, and everyone is being served a 4 course overly salted meal and watered down beer. Horse poop is the least of your problems.

princess gigglyfart's picture
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*you're.

Deja Poo's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorj 1000+ points
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Of course the Jousters are dicks, TTBL. They're the stars of the show and the rest of your are, well, serfs. But if it's any consolation, while you may not have made great money, your experiences have been immortalized on PR.

Anyway, TTBL, that was a great epic poem in three parts.
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Yo quiero Taco Bell.

Yo quiero Taco Bell.