BFM #51
Posted on February 10, 2005
10 FeBruary 2005: Thursday the Mob went to Drinker’s Tavern, 2nd and Market Streets, site of a recent and especially debauched Full Moon hash. After that night with the Full Moon, the tavern sent the pool table to the cleaners. If anyone regrets what they did that night, just pretend it was a nightmare.
But every day is a new day. And on Thursday Drinker’s got Mobbed. Inside were Pound It In, Hold the Sausage, Cheap Show, PornBrokeHer, Tastes Like Chicken, Strap On, Sticky Fingers, Bastard Child, Dances with Bums’ Urine, Tinkerbell, Bitchard, E=My Cock Squared, Rash, Cause for Blindness, Skin Fiddle, Dyke Queen (a visiting Briton), and two virgins, Just Nate and Just Steve, the last two not necessarily in that order.
The bartender was happy to take your dry bag, though he asked you whether your bag contained drugs or firearms. If you said “yes” it was unclear whether he would refuse your bag or take it for pilfering. Nobody found out.
Rash gnawed a straw, indicating the time for straws was soon. Pound It In tapped her shoulder and gestured toward the bar, where lined up were several straws, all the same height save one. Her time and teeth saved, Rash took the straws and presented them to the sorry lot milling about. The short one went to the rarely seen Sticky Fingers.
She left, and Bastard Child did a chalk talk for the newbies, though a few hyperactive and/or extremely cold mobbers took off right away, including Tinkerbell, Skin Fiddle, and myself. We went back and waited for Bastard Child to finish. He did, and the mob was off.
Since Sticky Fingers hashes with the BFM only on occasion, people speculated she’d be caught in no time, especially with the likes of Bitchard, Tinkerbell, and E=My Cock Squared on her tail.
Any bastid who thunk these low down and scurrilous thoughts was wrong. (I was one.) Sticky is tricky. She is not to be misunderestimated. Her trail, which was very follow-able, never led the mob astray, but always kept us guessing. Her checks weren’t easy, but they weren’t impossible. She took us down to Penn’s Landing, through Lunar’s apartment complex, and down various streets, playgrounds and courtyards in Society Hill; and then back to the bar. She heard the Mob’s hoots and hollers only on her last few blocks on in.
Back at the bar, the returning Mob yakked it up and stretched out outside. Down the street came striding Wolfman Jackoff, an autohasher, a distinction nobody threw on him later on in the circle. The bastid. The Mob went inside where the pitchers were pricey but the Champagne of Beers was not (that’s Miller, in case you didn’t read the label). One dollar a bottle. Rash wrangled about 100 bottles, which the bartender kindly iced throughout the evening.
The bottles went faster than steroids in a major league locker room. Little Fucking Winkie showed up sporting a faux-hawk or pillow hair, it wasn’t clear which. There’s a photo so you can judge for yourself.
Wolfman Jackoff formed the circle and the Mob gave the hare hell for her especially shitty trail. Last in was Cause for Blindness, who someone accused of doing it on purpose for the beer. This is a crime? First In was Tinkerbell, who is a Briton, and when one Brit drinks, they all drink – so Bitchard and Dyke Queen (the visiting Briton) were dragged into the circle as well.
Then came virgins and visitors. The virgins, Just Nate and Just Steve, were called in. Nate was upstairs meeting a friend, whom he then brought downstairs to the Mob. The friend was forthwith dragged along with Nate and Steve into the circle.
The visitor, Dyke Queen, also was dragged into the circle, his second time. He said he was here as part of a Britannic plot to take the colonies back. And when one Briton drinks, they all drink – so Bitchard and Tinkerbell were also dragged back into the circle, their second time, too.
Nate’s friend, who Nate brought down from upstairs, had only just entered the bar – he still emitted cold from the winter air outside. Likely he knew little, if anything at all, about hashing. But there he was, lined up with friends and strangers in the circle, and getting sung at for reasons and by people unknown.
Then came autohashers and accusations. E immediately violated Skin Fiddle for his pants. Winkie was accused of being the GM he has been, and the hare was accused for doing something nefarious.
Next came announcements – Rash said there are shirts next week for those who ordered; but it ain’t too late (I think) if you still want to order – email the Rash: jaandrel@hotmail.com – make sure you mention your size!
Then came the nominees – each one stepped forward so everyone could see. It was the shortest election campaign ever. After 2004, thank goodness. Ballot boxes were on the pool table and everyone present got a ballot for each position: GM, RA, and Trash.
There were many irregularities. I’m not talking about the voting process; I’m talking about the voters themselves. And so the Mob voted, and so we shall see. Next week the trash will belong to whomever is elected Trash by the Mob this week.
So this is it for me, trash-wise. Thanks for reading. I have very, very much appreciated your comments these last twelve months. You’re all a bunch of FFs, especially Bastard Child, y’bastid.
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