BFM #8
Posted on April 16, 2004
15 April 2004: Never mind that tonight the BFM saw it’s first repeat hare, Little Fucking Winky, who dragged the mob through a check-free trail from center city through university city, a run that Cause for Blindness, who actually ran tonight, called a Little Fucking Marathon. Tonight Winky gave the drinking club a real running problem. And tonight the BFM drank as much as it ran, which no one could say is a good thing.
The run began and ended at Roosevelt’s, 23rd and Walnut, a place, by the way, which does not serve pitchers. Hashers beware. But the no- pitcher policy did not quell the delight in the surprise cameo by Sticky Fingers and her man toy. (Name unknown, but seems real nice.)
At Roosevelt’s, secret intelligence disclosed that two certain hashers were on a date at D’Angelo’s Ristorante. Both were in need of a surprise circle, so the mob left Roosevelt’s on a mission. When the mob arrived at D’Angelo’s, a nice place, someone decided a discrete reconnaissance was in order, so Sly Fox and Sticky Fingers went in. But only after they gathered hash cash in case they had to order drinks.
In they went, and the mob waited for them, in fifty-degree weather, in clothes wet from sweat, in shorts, and without beer. But the mob, a sturdy crew, waited, and it waited. Eventually Cunting Season went in after them and discovered that the daters had long left, and that Fox and Fingers decided to have a drink at the bar. The bastids.
So Cunting Season moved them out, and as they exited, a man called Derf happened to be exiting too. Derf realized instantly he was among hashers. He himself was a hasher many moons ago, in a land called Berwyn. Though he wore a tie and jacket, and though he was out with his wife and another couple, Derf quickly degenerated and hung with the mob. He was so happy to see the whole damn thang continuing (though he couldn’t know what a big fucking mess this particular hash has made of it). `Derf,’ he explained, was `Fred’ spelled backwards. After a time his wife and the other couple came back, and whisked their Fred away. Derf we hardly knew ye . . .
And the mob moved on, searching for a bar that served pitchers. On its way, the mob came across a SUV shaped like a giant pink pig, which was hauling two smaller pink pigs on wheels, all sitting in a gas station, presumably loading up on gas. Why a pig caravan? There’s no telling for sure, but, based on the screed scrawled on the pigs’ sides, it looked like a mobile political statement against greed and the powers that be. In the spirit of somber political discourse, therefore, the mob piled on top of the pigs and posed for the camera. Yet another magical moment that can be seen in the photo section.
And the mob moved on, arriving finally at Bonner’s, the sight of a BFM hash weeks ago. This is the place that has karaoke and, more importantly, cheap pitchers of beer. And there yet another hasher emerged from the mist – Donkey Puncher, a hasher who started in Korea, and an American military man soon to be deployed elsewhere. Though he probably doesn’t know Derf, and may never meet him, the mob knew that the two of them were joined forever in the disgrace of this night.
The circle welcomed Donkey Puncher and the assorted virgins, miscreants, and hares that were forced to drink beer against their will. This circle was especially memorable as it was the final stateside circle for Cuntanamo Bay before he leaves for foreign shores. Though named only a week ago, his name has already been abbreviated to Cunt’mo. In honor of his departure, Cunt’mo was assigned the duty of doing a down down for each time anyone else did a down down. Of course as many people as possible did down downs, but Cunt’mo’s liver, a sturdy organ, lived to work (overtime) another day.
By this time, enough beer was gone and the mob just had to get into the karaoke. No amount of alcohol, however, can distort hearing, and the mob suffered at the sounds of its own. The mob bellowed such classics as Charlie Daniels’, "The Devil Went Down To Georgia," and Right Said Fred’s, "I’m Too Sexy." There were many others, but, thankfully, memory fails.
Once again, many not named here were there, and they cannot deny it, as photos are available. Go to the photos section and see the horror of it all.
On on.
Filed Under Trash |
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