Venue: Blue Moon Saloon, Gages Lake
Hares: Gasseous Clay, Rear Guard,
Buffalo Nuts, Bloody Thighs
Broth spoiled by Supernumerary Chefs
An eagerly anticipated cooperative effort on the part of four local chefs, Gaseous Clay
, Rear Guard, Buffalo Nuts and Bloody Thighs, met with disaster Sunday, as the product of their joint efforts was deemed less-than-appealing by most patrons. It is generally surmised that
the culinary quartet's failure to produce a savory and pleasing broth may have resulted simply from the presence of so great a quantity of chefs: fully twice as many as have ever previously been documented to
conspire on a single broth in the history of the 2nd City.
Among the diners' most common complaints were an underseasoning of the broth and its overall thinness. It was widely held that heaping tablespoons
rather than conservative pinches of shiggy would have helped achieve the proper level of seasoning, while the addition of greater quantities of thickening agents such as flour or chalk would have greatly enhanced the
consistency of this concoction.
One diner, a Mr. Cosmo, was so overcome by the plaintive wails of a Ms. Polly Ringbald, that he essayed to assuage her by the addition of some of his own chalk
to her broth. Another customer, Mr. Horn-E, displayed his displeasure by disrobing, tearing his shirt from his very body. After tasting the Pabst Light that was set out to accompany this ersatz feast,
many of the victims of this broth-gone-wrong flouted the efforts of the fearful foursome, adding copious amounts of unauthorized chalk, flour and shiggy in an attempt to render the vile brew digestible. The
aforementioned Mr. Cosmo, along with his two comrades, Mr. E.Z. Sunday and Mr. S. Balls, went so far as to throw in large quantities of sewage, reeds, saffron, and a Ladder of Babble, to great
Other patrons had the following responses:
Mr. Y Anus: Offered to cook up his recipe of this broth with Mr. Cosmo. Last seen cleansing palate with a Slim Jim or some
other cylindrical piece of meat.
Mr. Specklebird: Last seen running out the door like he'd seen a ghost. Presumed crapping.
Ms. Head First:
Left before offering opinion. Presumed vomiting.
Mr. C. Strapper: Babbling incoherently to himself.
Mr. Ben Dover: Seen gagging and writhing on the
floor. Unable to comment.
Last rites were given to all who had partaken of the broth by local clergyman Mr. F. Term, including first-time customers Ian and Elaine. Although
this critic prefers al fresco dining to smoky, dingy bars, particularly on beatiful June days such as this one, the interior did offer the diversion of a dart board which was put to good use, with the right reverend
Full Term using his connection with the almighty to secure victory after victory.
- Soar Balls
rating: One ball. I hope we all learned what Full Term, Rhotan and I already know. Four hares are way too many.