BFM #18
Posted on June 24, 2004
24 June 2004: Okay, okay, here it is: Le Trash de Hash BFM #18
‘Twas a warm, though not quite sultry eve last Thursday for the finally legal Mob of Franklin, Ben. Since it was 7:30, there was no actual Mob at T. A. Flannery’s, in Can You Hear Me (snoring)Now?’s back yard. In fact, it seemed as if there were no r*nners, as E=MC^2, (Anybody here know a)Scooby Snatch, and the always lovely Cunting Season were assembled in their Work Clothes. Only Wolfman Jackass, What Were You Thinking and I were properly attired for a hash, and the conversation was of the likely low turnout and whether or not we would bother with a trail or just hunker down to the drinking.
Speaking of hunks, the newly-returned-from-a-long-hash-hiatus Drag Queen soon arrived, ready to r*n, followed shortly by a sweaty Sly Fox, and the die was cast. E, SS, and CS went in search of a changing lounge. Tastes Like Antiseptic Chicken scrubbed in, and finally, Where’s Dildo? wandered in. Chicken tried to reach Metro Bachelor Lunar Digit, who was AWOL at that point. Bastard Child and CYHMNow? were absent, but accounted for.
But, alas, nary a grain of flour to be found. Someone (WJ?) offered up some easy to see gray chalk and E scoured for a suitable Biohazard For Markings (“How about some cornstarch?” I offered). He returned with a small, yea, I say, SMALL bag of beige oat bran.
Wolfman did the honors and, in true BFM tradition, the BFM virgin du jour, Drag Queen plucked the Short Straw. “I don’t need 5 minutes” he bragged. “Good,” I said, “I’ll leave in 30 seconds” and WJ quipped that I could co-hare with him and still be DFL. DQ was off and in 4:25 so was the pack, straight out the door onto the first X. With the addition of three more, virgin and semi-virgin womyn, friends of TLC and CS, we were a small F*cking Mess ‘til bran was spotted down a side street and we were on trail.
Strategic use of checks and few marks kept the pack together sprinting from check to check each time a mark was found. We toured the alleyways of whatever-that-part-of-town is called into Center City. On Walnut, around 19th, we all found a BIG ASS brown bran arrow into Rittenhouse Square. We were back on Walnut and I feared a bridge crossing, but no, the few, tiny spots led back to and along 21st Street, straight back to the bar.
A 20-25 minute trail, ‘cause he’d run out of chalk and grain, having used it up on the Rittenhouse Arrow. And I was able to finish with the main pack! The three latecummers were also early withdrawals. I wondered “Where’s Dildo??” for a few minutes. He’d lost sight and sound (thanks for the whistle Whomever) of the pack after the Square and started his own tour of town before Heading back to da bar. I called Dr. Digit again, telling him to get his buns to the bar before he missed his down-down.
Soon after we’d all gotten our first beers in Wolfman ran the circle, with Songmeister Supreme, Scooby leading the tunes. Lunar Digit drank for having a longer commute from Collegeville to Philly now that he lives in Philly (autohashing). (In the way a woman needs a new dress to go with her great new shoes, Lunar needs a new job to go with his great new Old City Bachelor pad.)
Drag Queen was congratulated/denigrated/circled for haring. Sly and Dildo were First In and DFL chuggers. DQ was accused of being a BFM virgin and drank again. Chicken and Ms. Season drank for making the visitors come (and go?). Cause for Blindness drank as Cums Lately (aka Hashus Interruptus) for having the temerity to road trip to the San Diego Red Dress instead of the Commando Hash. Long Distance Accusation was given to Sarah Cunter, who was made to drink while WJ held his phone over his head and we all “sang” to her.
The noise was interrupted by Wolfman noting that Strap On was hiding behind the door. Eventually the hash was bid a piece and we resumed proper drinking. Long minutes elapsed until Strap On appeared for real, baring her … new Philly Full Moon tee shirts and Whistles.
The Cause showed off her … acquisitions from San Diego – the tank top earned by merely putting it on, and a set of large … red beads. “There are two ways to earn beads …” “Oh, honey, we’ve all seen them” Cunting Season interrupted. “The other way is to admire his big balls” I finished, fondling said beads. Strap On was belatedly told to chug her beer for autohashing. Much later, the Grand F*cking Master, Little Fuc*ing Winkie appeared. More eating and drinking and talking and … continued into the late evening. A grand shitty time was had by all.
Submitted Underdressed
Cause for Blindness, Scribus Proxius
Filed Under Trash |
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