The Restaurant of Many Orders

There is a restaurant at the end of the street,
No, not the end of the universe,
Although that is a great title for a novel,
But it is not.

This restaurant has no menu.
This restaurant has no waiters.
This restaurant has no Facebook page.
This restaurant only has Orders.

The Order of Collected Cooks,
The best cook from every region,
Caught in pokeballs and studied here.
To use their moves for the top Michelin star.

The Order of Waifu Waitresses,
Women who makes men excited,
All ready to serve, whenever, whoever.
Wishes are granted when they smile.

The Order of Ship Suppliers,
Made out of the force of fans,
Supplying the necessary raw materials and emotions,
For a delightful feast of not-so-intended-by-the-creator-coupling.

The Order of Customer Czars,
All of them dictators,
Forced into a group against their will,
To conquer an external Overlord; the Shop Owner.

The restaurant is a beauty at it's height of power,
With the Order of Ship Suppliers providing emotional raw food,
For the Order of Collected Cooks to carve into masterpieces,
And finally served with an award winning smile from the Order of Waifu Waitresses.

The Shop Owner is proud of the many Orders found on this street.
Except the Order of Customer Czars.
Those he is not proud of,
Unless it is constructive criticism with helpful suggestions.



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