Royal Taster Thinks He So Cool Just Because He Hasn't Been Poisoned to Death Yet
"I haven't even been poisoned a little bit," he sayeth.
By Serf Correspondent Matt Dooman
Royal Taster Ivar Bartholomew Scrumptiousson doth thinketh he is so hip just because he nay hath been felled by an attempted culinary attack on The King yet.
The braggart ist e’en so bold as to go to the middle of town to make speeches on the matter.
“Heed me!” he proclaimeth. “God doth recognize me as worthy of lyfe despite the many possibilities for a foode-borne attack.”
The King’s Chief Tasteonomer Berfrid Tenderthroate agreeth that Scrumptiousson ist a skilled Royal Taster, but he also lacks tact and prudence in his tasting habits.
“Verily, he be a goode Royal Taster, but an arrogant one,” sayeth Tenderthroate. “I have half a mind to poison The King’s foode just to teach him a lesson. Not bountifully, just a little stomach irritant so he can be lowered a few pegs.”
Scrumptiousson hath e’en grown so bold as to take his ingesting talents on the road.
“I shall eat foode on stage and people will watch me!” he sayeth. “Gasps and laughter shall be aplenty!”
His friends and family, howe’er, thinketh his tasting habit hath gotten out of hand.
“Ivar be a goode friend o' mine,” sayeth friend Beatrice. “We actually were betrothed once, but I couldn't stand how snobbishly he would eat my fried potatoes.
“He would speaketh, ‘I be doing this for us, babe. Thou wants not thine fair face to turn blue, dost thou?’ What a fool he was!”
At ye presse tyme, Scrumptiousson died on stage from choking on a large piece of bread.
Matt Dooman ist just a humble serf who learned to write but not read recently. He needs everything he wrote to be read to him.