sunday night scrabble club

The Sunday Night Scrabble Club met only once in the fall of 2003 for an evening of cut-throat scrabble, cold beer, big laughs and a some "stand on that bucket and read" spoken-word, performance art. Too perfect an event to ever recreate.

The Teams

The Iron Chefs: 234
Matt (of mattLandia fame), Elizabeth, Eva, Jill (alternate)

The Red-Headed Sluts: 304
Sadie, Alexis, Brian, Paulie (stunt Scrabbler)

The Words

ART, FART, QUEEN, GAY, FA, ZIT, MINKS, REVERT, SMITE, SPAY, GOD, BUS, JUNGLE, GAG, EQUINE, DATE, MILT, OX, POX, ES, SAW, PAY, HIT, FIT, BOLT, PEAK, GLOW, CONDORS, PINE, MAW, DIVER, DRY, VOID, SHE, THRIVE, *MOONWINK, *LUCKY U, *YOU RED-HEADED SLUT

*denotes words used by request, not by use in game


The Poem

THE RED-HEADED SLUT KNOWS BEST
by jill

in the VOID SHE THRIVES,
DRY dock DIVER,
staring into the dark MAW.
she knows the CODE of the CONDORS
that soar the PEAK tops,
FIT to fight and PAY the price,
if need be, suffer the POX.
a knowing not known by
simple fish that meet
DATE-precise, to MILT
and make and GAG and die
by the BUSload
or even so many MINKS
sacrificing skin, life and limb
for QUEEN high-fashion
and ART-y, FART-y, ZIT-free, GAY FA la la.
"REVERT," she cries,
"SPAY your GOD of worry!
SMITE your fear and follow-the-leader-lethargy!
PINE not!
the JUNGLE is what you make it,
not what the slavish EQUINE
and yoked OX-ES
claim they SAW as truth."
she knows life will HIT fast as a BOLT,
GLOW hot as hell
and sooth smooth
as a MOONWINK on a cool fall night,
so temporal darkness be damned.
but the masses can only moan in pitiful defeat,
"LUCKY U, YOU RED-HEADED SLUT!"