BFM #11
Posted on May 6, 2004
6 May 04: Tonight it was Winky, not Sarah Cunter, who held the straws for others to draw, perhaps so he could avoid the mystical kung fu that has driven the short straw into his hand two times before. But it was not to be.
As Scooby Snatch drew one of the two final straws from Winky’s hand, the mob oooed as it saw the length of Scooby’s straw, and realized the short straw must be in Winky’s right hand. (I’m talking about straws here, Cause – sometimes a straw is just a straw). And in that way Winky became Thrice Hare for the Ben Franklin Mob.
But tonight Wolfman Jackoff was also there. This is the same Wolfman Jackoff who has appeared twice before (give or take one), and drew the short straw twice, making him this young hash’s only Twice Hare, despite his minimal attendance.
The odds against a low attender being Twice Hare in this newborn hash are as high as the odds against the GM being Thrice Hare. Something is amiss.
So what is it about Little Fucking Winky and Wolfman Jackoff that drives short straws into their hands? Some unseen entity of a very low order is at work here. And it is a mystery only for those who have obtained a higher level of intoxication to understand.
Practice makes perfect, and Winky’s practice let him lay a perfectly shitty trail tonight, beginning at McGillin’s, located on Drury Street, a dreary side street between Broad and Thirteenth and Chestnut and Sansom. The kind of street Jack the Ripper might like.
Winky found many alleys around Center City Philadelphia, laying several checks at the start, but few in the middle and the end, making the whole trail a giant sprint. For once the bastid laid trail down subway stairs that actually was true trail. And so the mob followed flour into the city’s aromatic bowels for a short tour of the public transportation system. Mmm, the smell of urine under caged fluorescent lights.
After emerging from down below, the mob ran on the sidewalks, descending on many frightened civilians, who had no idea why a motley group was running up from behind yelling, `on on,’ and `check’. But perhaps they felt safer when they saw Tastes Like Chicken running like a real runner in full-blown black spandex running garb (for which she later did a down-down). Who did not feel safe was the horde of teens boarding a school bus as such miscreants as Cause for Blindness and Just Chris plowed through the crowd. Just Chris made it out alive, though Cause was not seen again until much later.
Running fast was the order of the night, as Winky had left frequent marks and few checks. The FRBs were the usual suspects: Sarah Cunter, Scooby Snatch, and Wolfman Jackoff. Sarah was the first one in, a dastardly deed for which she later did a down down. Other mobbers hauling ass on this sprint included the Philadelphia-bound Lunar Digit, as well as Cunting Season, who tonight sported sporty, super-curly pigtails.
The server back at McGillin’s was from heaven, as she stored bags upstairs in the private party room, and let the mob into that room for a circle. She was probably apprehensive about what we would do, so she stayed with the circle, as did the bar’s owner. And the circle did its thang, led by RA Wolfman Jackoff and the newly appointed Song-Meister, Scooby Snatch, who really knows his songs (now if only he could sing).
Down downs were done by the FRB Sarah Cunter and the DFL, who, of course, was the Mitsubishi Mama herself, the reformed Racer X of autohashing, Cause for Blindness. No virgins tonight, but there were plenty of other reasons to do down downs. Just Chris and your correspondent did proxy down downs for the owner and the server, both of whom stayed through the proceedings, laughing often at the lyrics they heard and the fleshy sights they saw. Chicken did her down down for her sportswear, and the hare did his for his shitty, shitty trail.
Autohashing Sticky Fingers and her non-hashing man toy somehow found their way into the circle’s secret room, pleasantly surprising the mob. Even though the man toy has not run a hash, the hash decided to name him anyway. After heated debate and numerous rounds of voting, the hash named him, "Limp Man Toy," which sounds like something you might eat in Chinatown. The "limp" has more to do with his lack of running than anything else, Cause.
All of this struck the owner as good, wholesome debauchery, and he invited all of us to come back whenever we want, and to use the secret room so long as it’s available. He is a good man.
The mob then returned to the downstairs and many additional pitchers, and the autohashing, late-cumming contingent continued to show. Next in was She-Of-The-Silent-H, Just Minh, fresh back from Las Vegas, where what she did there will stay there, according to the commercials.
The mob was extremely gratified by the sudden appearance of Dancing Fool, who dishonored the hash by running some of the trail, and whose anti-$$-for-oil t-shirt received much attention from hashers and civilians alike.
STD also showed up, once again the fashionista, this week opting for all black – and what may have been stilettos - instead of last week’s gold lame slacks. Unfortunately she arrived too late to do a down down for her latest fashion statement.
And so the mob stained yet another bar with its sweat and beer. Shitty little fucking trail, shitty bar, and on fucking on.
Filed Under Trash |
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