Yet, as we have recently learned, the fried pickles are not, in fact, lethal…
I am writing these poems From inside a lion pickle, And it's rather dark in here. So please excuse the handwriting Which may not be too clear. But this afternoon by the lion's cage pickle jar I'm afraid I got too near. And I'm writing these lines From inside a lion pickle, And it's rather dark in here.
You do not automatically work here if you join the region. You have to apply. We prefer that you have role-played in the region for an extended period before being hired as an employee.
If you're looking to hide from nerds here of all places, I'm afraid I have some bad news.
Depends. Did you fill out your species requirement survey and obligatory waver slash release from responsibility?
Is that so?
Ooh, little early but I like the energy you're bringing to this poetry contest.
A fizzy glass of flat soda is sat beside the customer.
Here you are! Freshly squeezed straight from the donkey!
Hm...might want to work on that cheery accommodating customer service we at the bar are so well known for. Unless you've got personal beef with them, in which case, might I suggest taking this to the Butcher on the corner of every region?
These are both very valid points.
Nah, you don't even have to live at the bar actually for that to happen. Be careful what you sign around here, never know what you might sign off on: your life, your fortune, a ten year locked in contract for a set pay adjusted each year for inflation. Literally, no idea.
And so for three days and long nights three Vordo had laid in the lowly pickle So raised he his harrowed howl “Cthulhu curse my fortune fickle! Deliver me from brined perdition For my soul I submit to judgement by thee: Wicked was I in disposition So sorrowfully I sit in this acrid sea. ‘Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn’ May his menacing majesty have mercy upon me Cthulhu, praise be, render me free And boundless worship ye shall receive!”
And so like Jonah from the fabled whale Vordo was vomited by vinegared gale And veneration was vested unto the vexed god In that caustic temple in the restroom stall, For to thine eminence Patrons pay deference: Thou Lord of the Bar, thou Lord of All.