Time Honored Tradition Here [Grubby's Work Thread]

Here I am again, folks. Broker'n a fuggen dwarf's waistband I tell ya. Don't rightly know where the money goes to if'n I never get any but as soon as I get it there it goes. Figure I shouldn't'a bought that dancin' man out front'a my store there, waste'a fuggen coin if I ever saw one. ....I'm sorry Dancin' Man, I didn't mean nothin' by it, ya say dumb shit when yer frustrated an' eatin' stew made outta oak stock is chappin' my fuggen ass somethin' fierce. So I get to thinkin' what makes money, but not just any ol' job that makes money. Gotta be somethin' timeless, somethin' I can do, an' somethin' respectable. Can't go resortin' to thievin' just cuz shit's hard, that's a respectable profession right there. Minimum wage is fuggen out, can't be servin' no drinks to no fancy pants jagoffs. Then it hits me. What if I can? Tavern owner, that's the fuggen life fer me! Gonna open up a bar right outta the shop here, bring all the shifty-eyed motherfuckers far an' wide that're just achin' fer a drink in a dump like what I got! Can't be too hard. Met a lotta tavern owners in my day, most of'em was shit. I can do that. Ain't no problem.

So it comes down to the big day, open fer fuggen business ya mangy bastards! Got my sign all decorated with some'a them 'lil lanterns I see people got, built me a bar, even got a primo stock what I can give to these assholes. Easy fuggen money, just gotta wait fer that yella to roll in.Even dressed up nice. I'm wearin' a damn shirt. How's that fer fuggen upper crust? So's I'm sittin' behind the bar there, cleanin' a fuggen glass like I see'em do when they's waitin'. Harder'n it fuggen looks there, glass just keeps gettin' dirtier. Maybe I shouldn'a used the oil rag. But it don't matter when I get my first couple'a customers, some hard lookin' motherfuckers I tell ya. Got flower print shirts, tall as fuggen ever with a mean look in- aright I'm gonna be honest with ya, s'an older couple'a jackasses there, think they's tree people. Like dryads but not pretty. So's they come walkin' up to me an' I figure I got mah first customers're I'm about to have a fight on my han- okay, I can't fuggen do this. They're a couple'a yuppies.

Guy comes up to me, looks me square in the fuggen jaw an' says,
"Excuse me, but what sort of establishment is this?" So I says
"What'll it be, pal?"
"Excuse me?"
"S'a fuggen bar, I serve drinks. What'll ya have?" Guy looks a 'lil lost like he don't know where he is, got his woman tuggin' on his sleeve there.
"Let's just go Norloot, there's plenty of other places to eat lunch that don't look like they're falling apart and smell like wood rot."Now I ain't gonna lie she's got a point there. I can't afford no fancy schmancy candles so I just strike a shitpot fulla matches. Makes the whole place smell like a sulfur mine. Fuggen heavenly I tell ya. Reminds me'a my youth. But now I'm a tavern over I gotta do that there smooth talkin' if I wanna keep my new customers. I give'em one'a my big yella grins there, all friendly like. Fer fuggen Azmodeus, ain't like there's spiders in my teeth're nothin'.
"Bettin' ya can go someplace else an' get yer grub, but I tells ya yer missin' a once in a lifetime experience here. Poured my heart'n soul into this place, into everythin' I serve an' ya won't find better drinks fer the price I'll tell ya that." Old man, older'n fuggen I am in fact, looks like he's interested there. Got'im lickin' his lips an' strokin' his chin there.
"Aw heck, just a drink won't hurt," he says. Old lady looks none to happy but I'm happy as a fuggen clam here. I grin even damn wider.
"Well lookee there! Got me a bit. What're ya havin', friend?" He pulls up a seat on one'a the stools I made outta scrap there, rickety piece'a shit. His dame grabs herself a rocky seat too lookin' pleased as a drowned cat. Money's money, pal, I ain't gonna complain about the clients.
"Hmm... what do you have on special?" Now ain't them some words. Means I can offload the shit onto'im, ain't gotta jump through hoops. This just keeps gettin' better'n better.
"Yer lookin' fer eats I got me some'a that mushroom stew slow boiled in'a oaken broth, real good fer watchin' yer figure there," I joke, "Comes with some stone bread fer dunkin'. Now I ain't gonna lie to ya, it's a bit thick but it'll stick to yer ribs til suppertime." Got his eyebrows furrowed there. Prolly shoulda opened with some'a that leftover fish I got jerkyin' out back. But it looks like I did the trick.
"Sounds fine to me. How about to drink? I'm feeling a bit parched. 'Lil sunny today."
"Preachin' to the damn choir, brother. So's I got bottles, I got me the goblin special on tap, an' I got the hard stuff."
"Well I don't think I can say no to that goblin special."
"Comin' right up fer the sir there." I crouch down behind the bar an' get in one'a my barrels. Now I didn't plan on sellin' this, it's an old family stock. Fermented mushrooms with dates an' a bit'a rotten wood, makes a heady beer thick as molasses that'll knock ya on yer ass after a drink're two. Reason I didn't sell it is it tastes like twice brewed dogshit. I turn the knob on the tap there, comes pourin' out like syrup with that musty fuggen smell. Brings me right the fuck back I tell ya. Good times. Can't remember'em but they was good times since I didn't bother repressin'em like I did with the slave camps. I slide the wooden mug cross the table to'im. Mothefucker takes one sniff an' wrinkles his nose, pushes it away. Now that ain't called fer.

"I think I might just have a water."
"Don't serve water, this ain't that kinda establishment. Don't be a fuggen candy ass brother, thought you was comin' here fer a drink." Now see that riles'im somethin' fierce, looks at me with one'a them deep scowls... but he takes the challenge like a damn man an' takes a big gulp'a that there steamin' turd beer. Starts lickin' his chops like he kissed the ass end of a ogre.
"**mlech mlech...* ...worst beer I ever had."
"Don't I know it, I fuggen brew the shit. Strong, idn't it?"
"Boy howdy! That'll put you right on the floor after a mug!"

Boon: