Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Tavern Drama

On Saturday, November 27, three couch surfers gathered at CafĂ© Racer for another competitive game of scrabble poetry. I was hung-over from the previous night’s drama playing darts with contra dancers at a Wallingford tavern. Somehow I managed to play well enough even though I lost the match.

The final Scores were: Bill – 176, Ahmed – 193, Dan – 205

As you can see, at one point in the game, the scores were really close. But in the end, I fell behind, as usualy. Someday I will be the superior player, but this day it wasn't me. This day that player was Dan...

Words as they were played: Poet (this was my word), tweed, ef / ef / we, drama, bap, gun / ag / mu / an, wet, mut, ultra, aw / won, spiel / won, rob, zoo / so, yips / zoos, rho / yo, as / ox, detour, fed / age / mud, neck, revile, year / fa / ager, rager, tavern, zig, qat, na, joe, qi / hi, he / cage, jostle, send, sin, lax, sine, ee, in, son

My poem: The Hangover was all the Rage

The drama at the tavern was a rager
ef, ef, ee mu an rho
Yo, the sine of o
A spiel of so, said Joe
the lax poet in tweed

It was the year of the gun
Rob said, the son of sin
and bap, that wet ef-ing id
carried a heater into a zig

Joe was reviled at the zoo
he detoured Rob into a qat
he jostled the id in the cage
Yips the yo fed the mutt
and the ox with the thick neck

Ahmed’s Poem: a tweed poet's rage

tweed poet
drama spiel
yips me me yo yo
neck id sends
a qat jostle

ultra poet
sine sin, aw wet
wet rho tavern son
gun hi, lax vile
lax neck--qat-fed--
jostles ids

tweed poet caged
drama year rage
sine of the age ef ee ee
detoured me qi
na, detours reviled
mutt ef zoo
jostles cage

ultra poet,
mud mutt son,
vile spiel.
rage joe. rage.

Dan's Short: Tweed Joe Turned to his Son

     "Here's the spiel, boy. You're still a runt with a scrawny little neck, but today get your gun and we're gonna rob the tavern. There's a real rager going on and security's ultra lax."

     "But daaaaddd, robbery is a sin!!!"
     "No buts.... Son, you're going with me or your name is mud!"

     The cops jostled passerbys as they ran down a wet street that rainy night. "Tonight we catch Tweed Joe, the most reviled mutt in town. Better yet, the bounty will keep us fed for a year. Tonight, the battle against his criminal ways will be won!" They zigged and zagged through streets and ignored detour signs. Finally their flashlight beams shone upon the two masked me.

     Joe stared down the cops as his son cowered like a caged animal in a zoo. Joe yelled at his son, "dammit boy, why did you panic and get the yips!"
     "Aw, ef, dad. I can't take this drama. I want to be a poet!"

So the question is, what can you do with the words played in this game? Can you write something more clever? If so, put a clock on it. Fifteen minutes. See what you can pen, I dare you...

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