H – Hotelier

If you have a house, a great way to make money is to charge people to enter your house.  Such houses are often called hotels, or as the British call them, B&Bs.  Since I am a person who lives in a house and would like some money, I went online and advertised my house as a B&B:

“Lovely B&B situated on a hill.  By the time you get to the top you’ll be tired, so why not stay the night?”

I didn’t realise how many ramblers were in need of lodgings.  Before long, my house was full of weary walkers who completely ignored my “leave your shoes at the door” sign and began spreading pig shit all over the place.  At least it made the carpet look a bit cleaner.

All went well during daylight hours.  All the walkers left the house to go rambling, since they apparently prefer walking outdoors rather than in my utility room, which was quite relief as the house was beginning to feel a little crowded.  While they were out, I locked the door and reclined in my chair, dreaming of all that sweet money that would be rolling in in due course.

A few hours later, I was disturbed from my sleep by sounds of knocking at my door.  It turns out that the walkers were returning to their rooms, and apparently require keys to enter and exit the building.  As I let them in, I realised that their knocking had aroused my two amorous, poorly-treated German Shepherds, who both snarled and snapped at my guests, chasing them up to their rooms.  I figured that was probably okay because ramblers are outdoorsy people and they’d be used to feral creatures that want to tear them limb from limb.

Once the dogs were asleep (using the usual serum of tranquilisers dissolved into vodka), the guests dared to venture downstairs again.  Almost immediately, they began bitching about the state of their rooms.  I was shocked by their feedback as I always believed I kept a tidy house, but apparently a mollusc breeding pile isn’t a suitable feature for a wardrobe.  They were also upset by the lack of curtains, toilets, and beds.  Apparently, guest houses usually provide beds rather than just rooms, which was something of a surprise.  I don’t get away that often, but I figured that if you booked a room at a hotel, you’d need to also book a bed if you wanted one.  LateRooms.com isn’t called LateRoomsWithBedsInThem.com.  Begrudgingly, I used all my sofa cushions to build them a makeshift fort to sleep in.

After a peaceful slumber in which my night terrors only once forced me to run around the house naked, screaming like a jackdaw, I awoke early at 11:23AM to find all of my guests in the kitchen.  Apparently, they wanted to start the day with “breakfast”, which is something that B&Bs are generally supposed to provide.  I informed them that I wasn’t much of a breakfast person since I usually wake up after noon in a bleary-eyed stupor and eat last night’s pizza out of my pizza box/bathmat.  The guests didn’t seem keen on this option, especially since I’d just eaten the last slice.  I advised them that there were berries in the garden which probably aren’t poisonous, and some frog spawn in the pond should anyone want a fish course (fish, amphibian, what’s the difference?)

It was at this point my guests began to pack their belongings and leave.  They refused to pay even though I had provided them the rooms as required, and had even gone that extra mile by not hacking them to pieces in a murderous rage as they slept.  I was going to sue them, but I am currently embroiled in too many legal cases to be bothered with another right now.  I decided that the hotel game probably wasn’t for me, and decided to try my hand at something different instead.