BFM #13
Posted on May 20, 2004
20 May 04: Winky’s harey streak came to an end last night as Bastard Child drew the short straw from the hands of Sarah Cunter. It didn’t look like a short straw, but it was deemed the short straw nonetheless. The reason became clear later.
Bastard Child cried ‘give me ten minutes’ as he hustled out the door. Perhaps he wanted extra time because he’s especially slow right now as he recovers from his Overachieving Ass Clown act of last weekend.
The mob stowed its bags with the bartender, and about ten minutes later exeunted the bar, McKenna’s, located at 24th & Brown. The mob was temporarily halted by a cell call from Lunar Digit who was running late. The Mob did it’s best to restrain itself from leaving, but it just couldn’t wait long enough for the Digit to arrive.
Your correspondent, being a saintly bastid, remained behind waiting for our lunatic co-hasher. Fortunately the wait was not lonely because up the street came walking Tastes Like Chicken, sporting scrubs and a chicken-eating grin. She was in a good mood because she just closed on a condo. Congrats, ye bastid. She ran inside to change into sneaks and finally the Digit arrived.
The three of us did our best to catch up to the mob. At one corner a crowd of Bermuda-shorts-and-black-socks-wearing geezers tried to point us in the wrong direction, but we knew better. Sarah Cunter, also a saintly bastid, had been kind enough to chalk arrows for us, and they faithfully showed the way. At another corner someone else asked if we were with ‘those runners’ who had passed earlier, and if we were all part of a ‘republican conspiracy.’ Say what? That neighborhood is filled with corner-dwelling freaks.
The trail continued through the Fairmount/Art Museum section. Bastard laid a shitty trail, and it was especially fast with the help of Sarah’s arrows. He found as much shiggy as you’ll find in that area, and he forced us to jay walk Kelly Drive and the exit ramp from the Schuylkill expressway. At one point Sarah’s arrow was replaced by Winky’s winky mark, which, curving oddly, led us in the wrong direction for a short time.
As we approached the art museum from the east, we saw written in flour with giant letters "GO ROCKY," which was a good clue which way the trail headed. The three of us ran up the Rocky steps, unfortunately being beaten by what looked like a twelve year old girl who happened to be running there as well.
Where Rocky jumped up and down Bastard Child laid a check which led back down through the paths adjacent to the stairs. As we reached the bottom we heard faint ‘on ons’ and saw a mob of derelicts sitting together on one of the grassy islands that line the Benjamin Franklin Parkway near the art museum.
As we approached we realized it was the mob, enjoying the BFM’s first-ever beer check. There were foldout chairs, a cooler with beer and water, and a chocolate cake on a table. The cake was to commemorate the three Ass Clowns’ adventure race last Sunday. Their team name had been "Chocolate Cake."
At the check were many of the usual suspects - Where’s Dildo, who was running for the first time since his death defying car accident, Wolfman Jackoff (who along with Bastard and Cunter was part of Chocolate Cake), Sly Fox, who was trying to remember what happened at her mini-Stinko weekend barbeque, Winky, who was adjusting to his new role as non-hare, Cause for Blindness, who was being Cause for Blindness, just Jocelyn, and a dude from Hockessin who’s name I can’t recall - just Bill, I think. Others may have been there, but their faces are hidden by the beer fog.
Ever the imbecile, I was impressed by how Bastard Child managed to put together a beer check on a live trail, especially with all the chairs, the cooler, etc. A charitable soul, he was good enough to share a secret with me - the short straw pull had been rigged. The Overachieving Ass Clowns from Team Chocolate Cake had planned this all along. The bastids.
Once the beer was gone the live trail resumed with Wolfman Jackoff laying trail as we walked along with him back to the bar. At the bar it dawned on us that Skin Fiddle hadn’t run even though he had been at the bar earlier. We also discovered that he left hash cash before going home feeling unwell. He’s a good fiddle. Get well, ye bastid. The obliging bartender gave us the cash, and brought us our bags, beer mugs, and pitchers.
The mob was feeling good and rowdy. The auto hashing Purrier appeared after a time, and the mob cheered. As it turned out, Purrier was the first in a series of auto hashers that entered the bar, each at an interval that seemed timed, as if they all wanted to make ‘an entrance’. Next came Cunting Season with some red headed dude, then came that other red headed dude, then came Scooby Snatch, dressed way too nicely, accompanied by two other people. Others may have been come, too, but their faces are hidden by the beer fog.
As people kept coming, they kept buying pitchers for the circle, and the circle went on for a long time. The Flyers fans in the house asked the circle to ’shaddap’ as the final minutes of regulation wound down. Between regulation and OT the circle completed its mission, led doggedly by RA Wolfman Jackoff and Song Meister Scooby Snatch, who clearly spends all his free time learning hash songs (much to the BFM’s benefit). Down downs were done for many reasons, all bad.
This was the BFM’s 13th hash, so we are now teenagers. Shitty trail, shitty bar, Little Fucking On On.
Filed Under Trash |
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