Master of the House --!

Les Shaman Miserables

The inn filled in. A group of rowdy drinkers began to pester Horodier first thing.

"Come on, you old pest," the drinker called Silva yelled.

"Fetch a bottle of your best!" the drinker named Kalim cried.

"What's the nectar of the day?" another drinker, this one named Goldva, asked.

Horodier ran to the table with a bottle of wine. Inside his head, he was muttering all sorts of off-color phrases. But out loud, he said, "Here, try this lot – guaranteed to hit the spot, or my name isn't Horodier!"

The drinkers became raucous once again, yelling their requests. "Gissa glass of rum, landlord over here!"

"Right away, you scum," Horodier muttered under his breath.

"Right away, M'sieur!" Horodier called in mock cheerfulness.

"God, Pilika, this place has gone to hell," a diner named Mikihisa complained to a younger woman.

"So you tell me every year," Pilika sighed.

"Mine host Horodier," another drinker (who was clearly a bit tipsy) named Tokagero began, "he was there, so they say, at the field of Waterloo."

"Got there, it's true," his friend, Bason, noted. "When the fight was all through."

"But he knew just what to do," Amidamaru (another guest) continued, "Crawling through the mud, so I've heard it said, picking through the pockets of the English dead."

"He made a tidy score from the spoils of war," Amidamaru's acquaintance, Kororo, moaned as she drained another shot glass, which was about as tall as her.

Horodier smiled. "My band of soaks, my den of dissolutes, my dirty jokes, my always pissed at newts. My sons of whores – spent their lives at my inn. Homing pigeons homing in – they fly through my doors, and their money's as good as yours."

"Ain't got a clue," Mikihisa muttered to Pilika, "what he put in this stew. Must have scraped it off the street!"

"God, what a wine," Pilika scowled. "Chateau Neuf de Turpentine – must have pressed it with his feet!"

"Landlord over here!" a large group of drinkers chanted. "Where's the bloody man? One more for the road! Horodier, one more slug of gin!"

"Just one more," Kororo smiled, clutching her glass. "Or my old man is gonna do me in."

However, Horodier was paying little to no attention. A new customer, this one a pretty girl named Morphine. Horodier led her to a seat.

"Welcome, Madam," Horodier cooed. "Set yourself down, and meet the best innkeeper in town. As for the rest, all of them crooks – rooking their guests and cooking the books! Seldom do you see honest men like me, a gent of good intent who's content to be…"

Horodier smiled as Morphine took a look at a menu. "Master of the house, doling out the charm, ready with a handshake – and an open palm! Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir – customers appreciate a bon-viveur! Glad to do a friend a favor, doesn't cost me to be nice. But nothing gets you nothing – everything has got a little price!"

"Master of the house," Horodier continued in a slightly less audible tone, "Keeper of the zoo, ready to relieve them of a sou or two! Watering the wine, making up the weight, picking up their knickknacks when they can't see straight! Everyone loves a landlord, everybody's bosom friend! I'll do whatever pleases – Jesus! Won't I bleed 'em in the end!"

Now everyone joined in with Horodier, the general consensus being jubilant. "Master of the house, quick to catch your eye, never wants a passerby to pass him by! Servant to the poor, butler to the great, comforter, philosopher and lifelong mate! Everybody's boon companion – everybody's chaperone!"

"But lock up your valises," Horodier breathed with a smile as the door opened with a creak. "Jesus! Won't I skin you to the bone!"

Horodier greeted the newest customer, a man with much travel gear and the name of Chocolove, immediately.

"Enter M'sieur, lay down your load. Unlace your boots, and rest from the road," Horodier told Chocolove. Horodier tried to pick up Chocolove's bag, but he could barely drag it a few inches off the ground. "This weights a ton, travel's a curse, but here we strive to lighten your purse. Here the goose is cooked, and the fat is fried, and nothing's overlooked till I'm satisfied…"

Horodier retreated to the back room, where food was cooked, with his wife, Eliza Horodier. "Food beyond compare, food beyond belief, mix it in a mincer and pretend it's beef! Kidney of the horse, liver of the cat – filling up the sausages with this and that…"

"Residents are more than welcome!" Horodier cried as he exited the back room with a few plates of… ahem… food. "Bridal suite is occupied! Reasonable charges, plus some little extras on the side!"

"Charge 'em for the lice," Horodier murmured under his breath. "Extra for the mice, two percent for looking in the mirror twice! Here a little slice, there a little cut, three percent for sleeping with the windows shut! When it comes to fixing prices, there are a lot of tricks he knows… How it all increases, all those bits and pieces – Jesus, it's amazing how it grows!"

"Master of the house!" the inn erupted into euphoric song again. "Quick to catch your eye, doesn't want a passerby to pass him by! Servant to the poor, butler to the great, comforter, philosopher and lifelong mate! Everybody's boon companion gives 'em everything he's got!"

Horodier shook his head once he had turned away from the inn's table. "Dirty bunch of geezers, Jesus! What a sorry little lot!"

Now Madame Eliza walked out of the kitchen with all the drunkards, and began to tell a story to the group.

"I used to dream that I would meet a prince," Eliza sighed, thinking of a person she used to know. "But God Almighty, have you seen what's happened since? 'Master of the house' isn't worth my spit! 'Comforter, philosopher' – and lifelong shit! Cunning little brain, regular Voltaire… thinks he's quite a lover, but there's not much there! What a cruel trick of nature… landing me with such a louse! God knows how I've lasted living with this bastard in the house!"

Now, since everyone was drunk, no one really cared. So when Horodier rejoined the chorus, Eliza became a bit irritated.

"Master of the house!" the guests yelled in merriment.

"Master and a half!" Eliza retorted.

"Comforter, philosopher –"

"Ah, don't make me laugh!" Eliza cried.

"Servant to the poor, butler to the great…"

"Hypocrite and toady and inebriate!" Eliza scoffed.

"Everybody bless the landlord!" the chorus cooed in jubilance. "Everybody bless his spouse! Everybody raise a glass!"

"Raise it up the master's ass!" Eliza screamed.

"Everybody raise a glass to the master of the house!" the chorus cried, before going back to their old activities.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Shaman King or Les Miserables.

A/N: I actually finished this one on schedule. I love surges of inspiration. (I had five different drafts of this stupid chapter…) Anyway, I'm back on schedule so expect an update.

Character Notes: Okay, there was a line that made me pick Eliza… at one point… every female – and even a male – was Mme. Thernardier. At first, I thought it would be funny to do a commentary on the Ren and Horohoro couple. But Ren fit so well as Enjolras (yay I love Ren!!). Then it was Meene and Horohoro (actually, Thernardier was always Horohoro, except once, when I thought about Lyserg and Marco), Pilika and Horohoro (I would have made them married instead of related), Jun and Horohoro (but Jun fit so well as Fantine), even Anna and Horohoro! But the line, "that I would meet a prince", made me pick Eliza because we already met her prince… yep, the Foreman! I thought that the foreman was probably a rather nice person, but he had become bitter because Juntine/Fantine had rejected his advances. SO if Madam Eliza and Faust had met in this story… well, for one thing, it'd be COMPLETELY different…

(Wow, that was a long note.)

And I KNOW how pissed everyone is at me for picking Eliza. And about Tamanine's rudeness... when I saw the show, that's what the little girl did. Remember, little girl Tamanine is barely... four? She doesn't know what she's doing!

Ren is sexy!!

Ren: I'm not going to speak...