The life of a Royal Bartender

My typical day begins a little like this:

I sit up and look around and realize the bar is trashed...

There's nothing left to drink

I sigh and drag myself to the closet to change into my cleaning uniform

While the Royals 'hide' to get out of cleaning up their shit

As usual, I get a few things picked up and then Duchess and Princess Vet begin whining like bitches that they are thirsty and hungry.  I have to tell them there's no booze, there's no brownies, there's only ice and water.

"Excuse me?  Do you know who the fuck I am" Duchess asks, Princess Vet says "Ooooh you are so getting it!" and PWT whispers to Duchess 'Go for the boobs, they'll pop and maybe there's Vodka'.

You'd think they'd get the point but no, they is stupid bitches ya know.

Queen comes walking in around this time, as if on cue and totally rehearsed, Big Balls by ACDC playing (I swear it's coming from her skirt) her theme song this week.

"Girls, girls, the Queen has saved you, the limo is packed to the ceiling with all your goodies"

The Royals get in line and saunter outside to get their gifts from Queen.

And I gladly locked the door, ignoring the girls pounding for me to let them in. 

"No way hookers!" I shout, laughing maniacally.  I have a bar to clean, those poor drunk ass circus midgets to release from their binds, and figure out why I have a pool stick shoved up my ass....

How many times do we have to go through this before someone learns their lesson?

Cheers bitches.

I'm being hunted

I was given orders from PWT to put the skanks on lock down as she tried to fool The Judge that it's safe to release The Queen from detox.  Who tells a bartender to stop selling their wares to their best customers? Really?  I gave PWT a finger and a laugh and she happily shoved a red hot poker up my ass.

Too bad for her, I enjoy that kind of thing.

Once she realized this she took him away, and no matter how much I begged and pleaded, she wouldn't give him back...so I relented and agreed but on my terms...I got the poker back.  I have my priorities straight!

Sister Wife came up with a fabulous idea, turn the bar into a 50's diner.  Oh hecka hell yes!  The waiters are now dressed in greaser attire and I am wearing my Halloween costume from last year...

I gathered all the Royals in the back room promising a surprise.  There was giggles of new John's or even a shoe sale.  I had all the tables all decked out in the new decor and their drinks waiting for them.  And then I lied like a whore on her wedding night.  "No girls these aren't Long Island Ice Tea's, it's called Southern Ice Tea.  The kick comes later, don't worry".

Except Princess Vet knew better and the jig was up faster than the box boy got up my skirt.

I ran.

They chased me.

And then I had a brilliant idea.

A crazy and brilliant idea.

I'm being hunted by the Royals while PWT breaks Queenie out of detox.   We don't have to worry about The Judge finding their sorry asses, nope nope.  They won't be able to find their way home since I ate the damn brownie crumbs Dutch dropped!  Stupid whores can't find their way home without me, mwuahahaha.

Of course I packed my bags and brought some entertainment with me.  I also came up with the best decoy....

And the best disguise of all time.

On a hunt for duct tape and brownies...

to shut these bitches up and keep 'em still.

The Queen has been forced into detox is taking a little vacation and the whores are on a rampage.  It's like 'Mama's gone we can go apeshit now' to these twats.

We have holes in the windows, in the walls, chairs are missing the legs, and the stripper pole has some poor John strapped to it with bras.

I called Betty Ford clinic this morning but was told sweetly by the receptionist that Her Majesty is not taking calls, she didn't see the severity in our predicament...I was left on my own.

In the three second phone call, the girls came up with a plan, or so I'm guessing as that was the only time they had been quiet all night and morning.  The next thing I know PWT and Princess Vet are singing at the top of their lungs "Free Balling".  

I don't think Tom Petty would have complained that they changed the lyrics to his song, and the John's sure as hell didn't.

Every time I grabbed one of them, the others would get into mischief, most especially running away with booze

Once they lost their clothes, I was a bit afraid of where they planned on sticking those bottles.  But then I found where they ran off to, and sighed with relief...until I looked closer

No one will fess up and admit whose idea it was to fill the tub with beer and make their own personal cocktail.  More pointed fingers at Duchess though...All I know is, the Johns were snapping at each other and begging for a drink.

Things calmed down a little after that and I left the girls to tend bar.  Hey we need money, these ho's aren't cheap.  I noticed little by little the men and women were leaving to the back where the stripper pole and the pool tables were. I figured it was about time I checked on the Royals to see what they were doing...

You know the kissing booth at the fair?  This was the fucking booth in the bar.  Each of the Royals had their table and the men were lined up with their wads ready.  I have to give it to them, this was a clever money maker and we may have this as a regular entertainment here at Titty Whiskers.

When I got back to the bar, I had my own line starting.  I shrugged, it's all for business after all.  

Some were even hidden behind the bar and scared me to death when I went back there to change into my stilletos.  You know, costume and all.  No one would move so I had to kick and pull some hair to get to my shoe stash, that's really when all hell broke loose

I'm a good hooker, but I have never had that many penis' shoved in my face in my life.  The Royal girls got jealous and jumped us, wanting their attention too.  Turns out, they'd had too much and couldn't keep up... and I was left to take care of the rest...oh the tragedy.

You know come to think of it...I think we may use the duct tape and brownies for other purposes....

Cheers bitches

The aftermath

The bar was trashed after our New Year's Eve party.  There was shirts, jeans and one leg of pantyhose hanging from the lights and panties shoved in the pockets of the pool tables.  I found earrings in our pretzel bowls and a red high heel shoe in the ice machine.  Chairs were all lined up in a row that stretched the length of the bar and random articles of clothing littered the floor around them.  

I've heard there are a few busted lips among the Royals, no one remembers how it happened.

I have a hickeys all over my body, and a nipple ring has suddenly sprouted from right nipple...there's rumers that the brownies were spiked with something extra special....

The Queen walked out of the bar topless and screaming 'Down with bloody Red Queen'.

Something gooey was smeared all over the stripper pole.  Have you ever cleaned one of those mother fuckers?  Whatever was on it was not easy to get off.  Luckily I wore my hazmat suit to prevent me from catching anything from these whores as I slid up and down the pole.  Hey it's the best way to clean it shut your pie hole.

There isn't a drop of alcohol in the bar....these bitches are leaches when it comes to booze!

Someone wrote 'Cunt Blisters and Middle Finger are going down!' on the back wall in blood red finger nail polish.

Oh and the lava lamps are empty, all 20 of them....

As I clean up this fucking mess and order more gods damned booze, I can't help but grin.  The Royal's sure can party.