BFM #27
Posted on August 26, 2004
26 August 2004: Thursday the Mob mobbed The Green Room, 20th and Green, Philadelphia. In first were Just Amy and then Master Baster, both who the bartender offered a drink. For some reason they said no, but they weren’t the last ones to refuse. In time others followed, filling up the place with sneakers and bags, and the number grew to over thirty, but the number of pitchers grew hardly at all. Lots of hellos and chatter, though.
Sensing the number grew to critical mass, religious advisor Wolfman Jackoff announced we had five minutes before starting trail. Mysteriously, no straws were drawn and Little Fucking Winkie was holding the flour bag. Winkie then announced there was a beer check, portending this trail might not be so live, and left. The mob looked to where to stow the dry bags. Behind the bar seemed the best place.
So mobbers asked the bartender to stow their bags behind her bar. Closing her eyebrows together, the bartender replied, “What are you all doing here?”
As far as the bartender knew, a bunch of people who seemed to know each other walked into her bar wearing shorts and sneakers, sat down, started chatting, and hardly ordered anything, beer or otherwise. After about twenty minutes, someone yelled something about “five minutes” and someone else yelled something about a “beer check” before running from the bar. These words seemed important because the rest of the people stopped chatting and listened. And now these people were looking at the bartender, speaking to her for the very first time, and asking to stow their bags behind her bar.
A quick explanation satisfied her and she accepted the bags. A real sport. In no time she had a pile of bags behind the bar and the place was empty, quiet. The mob was on the street, speeding on on. Bastard Child drove by, shouting something about us being fucking fucks, which we couldn’t deny, and then Beer Sucks appeared on trail, running with the mob.
Trail was pure processed white flour, and it almost glew in the dark (‘glew’ being the past tense of ‘glow’). Trail zigzagged down toward the art museum, but trail was erratic and then all but disappeared, leaving everyone who was there, including the hashing Sherlock, Bitchard, thinking, “blimey.”
Meanwhile notorious FRBs including Strap On and Mr. Strap On (a.k.a. E=My Cock Squared) were on the hare’s trail, in eyeshot. Tenaciously the hare dropped flour while looking back, trying to evade the FRB onslaught, but sure enough he was caught by the patriot missile of hashing, E=MC2. E nailed Winkie next to where they both belong - Eastern State Penitentiary. Now the trail belonged to E, and the de-floured hare walked in ignominy to the beer check, which, it turns out, was at Skin Fiddle’s place. No doubt Winkie had a good cry while Skin Fiddle held him gently.
Far away from this freak show the rest of the mob was working its way back from the art museum area, following the sporadic marks the hare had made while trying to evade the inevitable E. It wasn’t easy, but Cousin It and others soon enough arrived at Eastern State Pen, the scene of the crime. No hare, no marks, no nothin’, until in time trail was spotted north of the Pen.
From there trail continued north and around Girard College. On trail there was a man standing on a corner making loud blowing sounds through one nostril. What he wanted to unload wasn’t in his nose. On another corner there was a check near two kids on a doorstep. One kid said to the other, “See, I told you that guy was laying a trail for others to follow.” When asked which way that guy who was laying trail went, the kid pointed right, and the on on went right.
Right back to The Green Room, where the mob ordered pitchers and food. The bartender’s patience paid off. But no circle in this bar – the mob was removed to Skin Fiddle’s place, and the circle was held.
This night’s circle saw a naming. In preparation, E=MC2 did his research: He learned that Dolph Lundgren was not only an MIT Chemist, but he was also the captain of the Olympic Swedish Massage Team. In a classic Hollywood turn, Lundgren was spotted in a bar in L.A. and asked to play the role of Ivan Drago in the critically acclaimed, “Rocky IV.” Then his acting career achieved loftier heights when he portrayed "He-Man" in the cinematic masterwork, “Masters of the Universe.”
The keen eye of this hash has noticed that a recent addition, Just Dan, resembles Lundgren much in the way that some claim that John Kerry resembles Herman Munster, or in the way that some claim that George Bush resembles a chimp. But "He-Man" wouldn’t do, though "She-Man" would. Other names were suggested, but after a careful poll with hanging chads counted, the result was "She-Man". And so Winkie did the honors and named his ass.
And in that way, the BFM closed out another night. On on.
Filed Under Trash |
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