BFMH3-03 (Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw?)
11 March 04: The sad absence of its religious advisor did not stop the Ben Franklin Mob Hash from losing its way while tracking the flour droppings of Little F*****ing Winky, who this week celebrates his birthday. Happy birthday, you bastid. Winky was lucky enough to draw the short straw from the hand of Urban Terrorist and thus lay a trail live. (For those of you keeping score: that’s Urban Terrorist aka Yeast Affection aka Snow Blows aka Yeast Infection). The BFM gave Winky five minutes to get his ass down the street and make a trail, so he left.
Smack in front of the door of Bonner’s, 23rd near Chestnut, Winky left his first heaping spoonful. Since it was out of that door that the BFM emerged five minutes later, that heaping spoonful was as helpful as a heaping pile of you know what. But soon enough the BFM found true trail, heading west.
And head west the BFM did, never once spotting the live hare, who laid a clever marathon trail, and a trio of stray sheep. So tricky was this trail that most of the time whistleblowing Chick Repellant and straw-woman Urban Terrorist were FRBs, but Sly Fox spotted Cause for Blindness also committing the same offence. It was a tricky trail. How about a false trail down subway stairs? The bastid did that. Also, as Cause caustically noted, there were `almost enough checks’ (about as many as there were beers inhaled later). The bastid.
Complicating matters was FRB Chick Repellant’s whistle, which he blew to sound off the on on. But other people in Philadelphia also blow whistles, like cops. Mixing whistles, FRBs, and Philly’s finest leads only to confusion, but the mob persevered. Through Drexel and Penn the mob ran, across bridges, around corners, through civilian crowds, and eventually back to Bonner’s.
Back at Bonner’s the mob threw down hash cash and picked up pitchers and got busy. The circle heaped humiliation on the hare, his Minnesota buddy – Just Brian, BFM virgin Chick Repellant, Bastard Child’s friend (name unknown right now – too much beer), as well as on Phillip (sp?) McKracken (sp?), who showed up after the run but drank like he ran the trail three times.
It got ugly when the bar began Keraoke. Your’s truly was forced to sing “I Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore” – a moment from which I am counting on Alzheimer’s to some day rescue me – followed by a triumphant Mob-wide rendition of “Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw?” While watching this sorry spectacle, the bar regulars’ gnarled faces registered the kind of horror you see only on train wreck survivors. Bastard Child’s friend’s rendition of “Add It Up” and Winky’s crooning of “Paint It Black” did nothing to lessen the bartenders’ desperate hope that we would all peaceably vacate the premises. Incriminating photos are available in the photo section of this BF Yahoo group.
Shitty trail, shitty bar, really shitty singing. God help us all.
[...] hash? Our beloved Little F*cking Winkie was coming back for a visit. He’s the self-proclaimed founder of the BFMH3. If it wasn’t for him, we’d be home watching Must See TV on our Thursday [...]
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