BFM #37

Posted on November 4, 2004

04 November 2004: It was a dark and stormy night . . .

Yet a mini-Mob gathered at Downey’s at the appointed hour. Cause found the bar around 7:15 and began looking for a parking space in the Front & South environs. Hah! Tongue Twister admired the staff. (Then) Just Mitch drew the straw, short with instructions to KISS, (Keep It Short, Sweetie) and lay it on thick. Cause is in the Center City area, still looking for parking.

Mitch followed instructions carefully and the pack chased the Orange Play-Dough markings duly. Rumor has it trail may have been an entire mile. Cause gets lost in South Philly. Then Bastard Child and Tinkerbell go looking for a hash- ppropriate bar. Downey’s doesn’t serve pitchers and the pints are $5.00. (Winkie, call or visit the bar first.) Cause finds a spot at 8:00 at 3rd and Thomas Paine; she should have had the Common Sense to bring a bunch of quarters.

I joined Wolfman, Rash, Scooby, Tinkerbell, Mitch, C*unting Season, Bastard Child, Bum’s Urine, Tongue Twister, LFW, and no-long-a-virgin-Medical Allyson outside the bar. The scouts have reported back to the Grand F’ing Winkman and we head(*)ed to O’Neal’s on 3rd just south of South. Tongue Twisted the cute barmaid’s arm into letting any autohashers know where the pack has gone.

Soon the autohashers arrive- Sly Fox and She Man. Circle is convened. Bastard and Ms. Season drink as first in, Winkie sucks one down for last in (under protest). The hare – Mitch – is awarded a beer for keeping it short., so to speak. Autohashers drink. Overacheiving Bastard (who puked at mile 17 but made it to the end, stopping at the beer check twice at the Marine Corps Marathon.), and Trail R*nning Rash drink for overachieving and trail r*nning. Tongue Twister drank for some reason, then made it a double for forgetting to remove his cap. Lunar Digit and E=MC^2, really latecummers, were punished with beer. Wolfman pointed out that there was someone present who’d been hashing several weeks now … Mitch is gonna be named. There was talk about shrinking when wet, cumming too soon, and flaccidity. After much shouting and voting and assorted falderal, Just Mitch was christened Lake Flaccid. Winkie then nnounced that Hockessin might do a hash in conjunction with our Christmas party. Payment ($22 USD) is needed by December 4th. The circle is dismissed. Rash exhorted us to buy our own damn beer. Soon, Colleen, the barmaid, announced a $3.00 Stoudt pint and Keepsake beer glass special, so lager pitchers were replaced by Stoudt pints until the hash was sloshed.

Respectlessly Submitted,

Cause

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