BREAD&CIRCUSES: An Encounter with a Plebeian at the Inn of Bombasticus (Chapter 4)
Mediaeus visits an inn owned by Bombasticus (and gets a few surprises from a plebeian employee who thinks her boss can make Rome great again) + reminisces about his first encounter Emperor Obamacus.
Note: Our normal weekly Bread & Circuses weekly humor roundup will publish in a few minutes BUT this might be the last Bread & Circuses (Book) post for a little as upcoming chapters are not finished + we might all be in the gulags after November 5th!
"Slave girl! Slave girl!" Mediaeus called out as he reclined in his litter held up by slaves. "Is this the inn or tavern owned by Bombasticus, and are you open for dinner?"
A tall attractive girl walked over to the front door and looked at him from head to toe.
"Yes, patrician, we are open for dinner," she said politely. "However, I am not a slave girl..."
"Oh, I am so sorry plebeian! I honestly can't tell the difference between all of you plebeians and slaves..."
From the open doorway, Mediaeus surveyed the inn’s tavern which opened onto an elegant courtyard with a fountain surrounded by a small garden and statues of various goddesses. Several plebeians stood or sat around tables having animated conversations…
"I'm a bit confused," said Mediaeus. "All I see are tables and chairs. Where do we recline for dinner?"
"Recline?" said the girl.
"Yes, recline. I assume you have some private rooms with couches for your patrons to recline for dinner?"
"I am sorry, patrician. Our patrons are generally plebeians who don't have the time to recline for hours to eat dinner like you patricians do..."
"Oh my! Well, that's an unusual way to eat dinner and drink - it must be bad for one's digestion! Also, are you sure you don't have a private room for us? I mean, I don't want to sound snobbish. But some of your plebeian customers might disturb us as we eat with their, umm, boisterous plebeian behavior..."
She sighed.
"We have a private room that opens onto the courtyard out back. It’s usually reserved by our plebeian patrons only for special occasions. But given the state of the current economy, no one can afford to reserve it for special occasions now and it is available..."
"Very well! Take us to your private room."
She led them to the room on the other side of the courtyard.
"Now I would like to order dinner. The first courses should consist of your plumpest stuffed dormice, some flamingo tongues and bull testicles served as appetizers. And for the main course, I would like a rack of wild boar - unless boar is not in season around here. In such a case, I would prefer a rack of lamb instead. Either should be prepared using your finest imported saffron on a bed of chickpeas. And then for dessert, I would like some Ricotta cheese balls with bee’s honey as a dipping sauce and your most exotic fruit. I also want to order your finest imported sweet wine - preferably something from far away like the Caucasus or perhaps even further."
The girl stared at him and sighed again.
"I am sorry, patrician. We don't serve that sort of patrician food here."
Mediaeus looked perplexed.
"You have none of those items? I mean, not even a stuffed dormice or a bull's testicle?"
"I am sorry, patrician," she replied calmly. "We plebeians don't eat or drink the items you mentioned since we usually cannot afford to do so - not even for special occasions. And it's plebeians who come here to eat and drink - not patricians like you. Patricians around here usually only eat and drink in their villas."
"Ohhh," replied Mediaeus with a serious look of disappointment. "Then what do you plebeians customers eat and drink here?"
"The plebeians who come here to eat and drink are served bread that can be soaked in olive oil, chicken, and a wide variety of fresh seafood, vegetables, and fruits grown or locally harvested here in Campania. The same goes for the wine which is made from locally grown grapes and is turned into wine using our wine presses."
"Ohhh, how wonderfully provincial!" Mediaeus said excitedly as he clasped his hands together. "In that case, bring us whatever you would typically serve two of your favorite plebeian patrons for dinner on one of their special occasions!"
"As you wish, patrician..."
She turned to go back towards the bar.
"Oh plebeian, one more thing. Where do I go to vomit or do you have something for me to vomit in?"
"Vomit in!" she said with a shocked look on her face.
"Yes, I don't see anything at the table to vomit in. Is there a vomitorium somewhere out back?"
"I assure you patrician that our plebeian food and drink is completely safe in this establishment!"
"Plebeian..." he said in an annoyed voice. "I was not implying that your food and drink will make me ill. We patricians normally vomit between our dinner courses. Don't you plebeians do the same?"