BFM #47
Posted on January 13, 2005
13 January 2005: Forty Thursdays ago, at the BFM Commando Run, Deep Flute first turned up. That night the BFM said goodbye to BFM co-founder, Sarah Cunter. Since then, Deep Flute and her far worse half, the pheramonic She Man, have passed and pissed away many hours with the BFM circus, on and off trail. And how the wheel turns. Last Thursday the BFM said goodbye, too, to this duo.
By request, the Mob returned to Bonner’s, home of cheap beer and karaoke. The occasion and warm weather brought out all sorts of mobbers, much to the delight of the bartenders and much to the disappointment of the karaoke groupies.
Present were Bitchard and Thunder Thighs, back safely from the South Seas. The cold-averse Sloppy Seconds was there, as were Just Bob (aka [sort of] Cha-Chi), the one and only Virgin Pimp, and the hostess of the New Year’s Day hash, I’m Cumming, who hasn’t been kicked out of her neighborhood – yet – for the ill repute we brought to her house that day.
Rash’s absence left it to Winkie to present straws, which he did, and your correspondent drew the short one. I left and, I can only suppose, that the Mob waited five minutes before coming after.
Trail led the Mob through center city alleys, and then to a fenced-in train track bed, where trail went straight on for as long as the fence. Finally the fence broke and trail returned to the streets toward Fitler Square, where the flour ran out. Inside a corner bakery called Taste Buds, I tried to get more flour but the Mob was upon me, Sloppy Seconds arriving first. Tastes Buds gave me flour and I gave Sloppy the bag, and off he went.
Three blocks later I saw Sloppy with the bag. While chasing him I told him he still had to lay flour in case I didn’t catch him. But my mouth said, “you s’ill have to flay lour.” He slowed down in order to try and understand me, and I caught him. It wasn’t pretty or intended, but there it was. Hare lost, hare regained.
Two hares in one night were apparently enough for the Mob, because everyone packed it in and went back to the bar. Unaware of this fact, I laid the rest of the trail, constantly looking back for the FRBs who would never come. I was last in.
At Bonner’s Wolfman convened the circle in the back room, and Scooby Snatch led the Mob through a series of especially crude songs, as warranted by the occasion. In high dudgeon, the Mob slung accusations with wild abandon and wholesome disregard for truth.
To commemorate the big goodbye, Dancing Fool made a cameo appearance and presented Deep Flute and She Man with goodbye gifts, which were official H3 whistles, and Cunting Season told everyone about how Deep Flute and She Man saved a camping trip by bringing something everyone else forgot: food. Speaking of which, courtesy of Sly Fox, the Mob enjoyed a goodbye cake.
After that came Karaoke. The bar heard the best from the Ben Franklin Mob talent pool, which is in dire need of filtration. The two biggest crowd pleasers were Dances with Bums’ Urine, who sang a credible “Big Balls” by AC/DC, and the virgin that Sly Fox brought, who sang “Psycho Killer” by the Talking Heads. The bar sang along with both.
And so, so long, farewell, and On On to Deep Flute and She Man.
Filed Under Trash |
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