1/17/2017

Attending: Ant-ny, Cash, Dreadlock Fetus (DF), Out-of-Line Christie, Sticky Rice (Whimmer), Perky Purple Pastor, Scribe, SB, Tom, Whitey

Like every Friday at 4:30 the gang of T-14 fell for the picnic table again, arriving to a relieved and, until moments prior, exasperated Tom who had been sitting at T-14 since Thursday. Whitey editorialized the moment, “Nobody said stupidity was rare.” Poor tom blanched, held his head low, and whimpered, "I'm never eating a chimichanga again."

Shortly after the meeting was brought to session, Scribe moved for Pastor, as almighty leader and nickname coordinator, to formally baptize DF with his nickname. The omnipotent leader of a flock of alcoholics that he is, he immediately retorted, “I ain’t got nuttin’ to coordinate,” but eventually broke down. DF’s nickname was formally approved. He baptized himself with a shower of his own typical self-confidence. Having now formally brought DF into his flock, the Pastor initiated post-initiation hazing rituals, quickly hollering at him, “For a youngster, you got a big mouth!”

Scribe brought forward an agenda item: countering an offer his landlord brought forth for him to purchase of the apartment in which he resides. He was quickly adorned with rapid-fire professional real estate advice and felt like he had shown up at a Hell’s Angels rally on a Big Wheel.

At the evening's close, Scribe suddenly realized that Whitey and he were ostensibly on a double date with Ant-Ny and Christie. Scribe bolted like a scalded Syrian (or Serial) refugee at an immigration sting during this brave new era of Trump’s Namaste. On his way out, he heard a regular at the bar say, “El est gay.”

A random musing is for everyone at the table to be thankful that the men’s room isn’t labeled “gentlemen” because, in Whitey’s estimation, all T-14 members would be relegated to pissing off the dock.

And the Table 14 mantra of the week is: “Nobody ever said stupidity was rare.”