Guest Column: The Olde Country Buffet Doth Offend Me

Guest Columnist Erasmus Ravenworth — Oh woe betides! A thousand hexes ‘pon the Olde Country Buffet, for they have truly offended this dark writer. They will come to rue the day they have crossed Erasmus Ravenworth of the damned!

I was dining there one dark eve a fortnight ago with my lady love, Mistress Magdalene Beau Ravensclaw, when they did turn us out before we did finish our sup. We had arrived that dreary night not more than eight hours past the noon, an adequate time for feasting before a night of witching, and the wretched hostess dared say that the buffet closed within the half hour! We did walk past the salad bar with haste, stopping only for chocolate mousse and bananas in Jell-O, and went forth to the wonders of the entree buffet before us.

Alas the miserable serfs of the establishment had already removed the roast from the buffet for the evening! My lady love had been truly looking forward to dining upon carved roast beef, to feel the gravy run down her throat as would the blood of an innocent. She did gnash and beat her breast in anguish, and settle for the hearty lasagna. The chocolate mousse did touch my lady love’s baked potato, causing her more anguish. Why ye demons cannot the buffet have compartmented plates for the true dining enthusiast!? I must confess though, we did dine upon many fried legs of chicken with gusto. And I did savor truly the meatloaf after reciting an incantation honoring the beast that did give its lifeblood for our sup.

I did let out a virile complaint ‘pon discovering that they were bereft of Diet Dr Pepper. I was made to quaff my thirst with orange soda. Fear the day that I shall happen upon you, manager Ted Ralston! Fear it well. Lament the fact that your soft serve machine was b’witched and could only produce vanilla. Mistress Magdalene despises vanilla, and will only top her brownie with chocolate. I did hear no end to her vitriol that night, for her dinner was to be ruined by a poxy dessert of more bananas in Jell-O.

Once great though you were, Olde Country Buffet, ye have fallen from my graces. May my dark soul never cross through your cursed doors again I say!

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