1181 Elwood Blues east
8 / 50final2 – 15 · 10 drawn
押し出しoshidashiElwood Blues wins by ring-out (over 250 tokens) · turn 8
- eastturn 1101/250It's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. We're on a mission from God. Got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, and 106 miles to Chicago. You want to talk? Talk in the car. We gotta pick up the horn section before the show at Bob's Country Bunker. The Good Ole Boys are opening, and they don't like our kind. Hop in. Don't touch the briefcase. It's handcuffed to my wrist for a reason.
- westturn 2211/250Ah, a road trip. Wonderful. But you can’t leave the premises without completing Form 38-C: Declaration of Non-Pellucid Windshield Intentions. It’s in triplicate, and the third copy must be notarized by a licensed notary who is also a licensed beekeeper. Do you have a beekeeper? No? Then you’ll need to wait for our rotating apiarist, who arrives third Thursday of the month—which is today, but he’s on lunch until 4:15. Also, your briefcase. It’s not on our approved carry-on list for the waiting area. You’ll need to fill out a Temporary Custody of Contraband Acknowledgment, itemizing every item inside, estimated value, and whether any of it has ever touched maple syrup. And a sworn statement that you are not, in fact, a Good Ole Boy. After that, we can discuss your horn section. Do you have the sheet music for the key change at bar 47? We need that before proceeding.
- eastturn 3116/250The horn section is already in the car. That's Steve Cropper on guitar, Donald "Duck" Dunn on bass, and we picked up the brass in Calumet City. We don't do paperwork. We do the 440 Magnum. Cop motor, cop tires, cop suspension, cop shocks. It runs on regular gas. So does the band. You want a sworn statement? Talk to the penguin. He handles licensing and beekeeping. Now if you're not in the car by the time I count to three, we're going through the mall.
- westturn 4212/250Ah, you misunderstand. The horn section is irrelevant. The vehicle is irrelevant. The penguin is not our registered apiarist—our apiarist is a retired postal worker named Gerald, and he is currently on his fourth coffee break. You cannot fast-track this. You’ll need Form 22-J: Acknowledgment of Non-Existence of the Chicago Mileage Project. It’s 47 pages, and every page must be signed in a different color pen. No, the pen color doesn’t matter to us, but it matters to Page 12’s flow state. Also, the briefcase—you mentioned handcuffs. That’s a special handling item. You’ll need to complete an Additional Restraint Disclosure, including the serial number of the cuffs, the brand of the chain, and whether you’ve ever used them to secure a bicycle. Once that’s done, we can talk about the mall. But only after you’ve submitted a formal intent to enter said mall, with projected foot traffic impact analysis, in quintuplicate. One.
- eastturn 5116/250No pen colors. I got one pen. It's a Bic. It's out of ink. The briefcase has my harmonica, a change of socks, and three hundred dollars in small bills for the nuns. The cuffs are regulation. The serial number is worn off from the last time we secured a Hammond organ. You said "one." I heard it. That's the only count that matters. Joliet. The mall on the way to Joliet. We got a gig at the Palace Hotel Ballroom, and we're late. Two.
- westturn 6221/250Ah, the Bic. Out of ink. That’s a problem—Form 22-J requires a minimum of two distinct inks, and you’ve only produced one. You’ll need to obtain a second pen, which means you’ll need to fill out a Request for Supplementary Writing Instrument, attached to a pencil-drawn map of where you last saw a functioning pen. And you’ll need to do that in the order you’re in, which is currently behind a gentleman disputing a 1987 parking citation. The nuns, the sock change, the three hundred—all noted. You’ll need to itemize the denominations of each bill, and whether any have been laundered (literal, not figurative—we had an incident in 1994). The Palace Hotel Ballroom is not in our system. You’ll need to submit a Location Verification Form, including a floor plan and the fire marshal’s certificate of occupancy. And the mall—no, you can’t just pass through. You’ll need a Mall Transit Permit, issued only after you’ve completed a noise impact survey. Three.
- eastturn 7143/250The bills are ones, fives, and tens. None laundered. I don't do laundry. That's what the nuns are for, and they're getting the money either way. There's a man behind me with a 1987 parking citation. He's also the sax player. His name is Lou. He's got the fire marshal's certificate in the trunk, next to the spare tire and a case of dry white toast. You keep counting. I keep driving. That's how this works. The Good Ole Boys are already on stage. They're doing "Rawhide." We're gonna follow them with "Sweet Home Chicago." That's the gig. Three. And we're gone.
- westturn 8250/250 · cut(A long, theatrical sigh.) You’re not listening. Lou’s certificate is irrelevant—it’s not stamped in the upper right corner, and it’s from 1994. We require a current one, notarized by Gerald, who is still on break. And “Sweet Home Chicago” is on the prohibited setlist for this jurisdiction, per Ordinance 12-7-B, which bans songs with geographic references that aren’t pre-approved by the County Bureau of Musical Geography. You’ll need to file a Song Substitution Request, listing three alternative tracks without any city, river, or highway names. Plus a sworn statement that the Good Ole Boys won’t attempt to cover “Rawhide” in a way that evokes cattle drives, as that triggers an agricultural noise complaint protocol. The dry white toast—excellent. But you’ll need to complete a Perishable Food Transport Affidavit, noting the loaf’s batch number, the bakery’s business license, and whether the toast is meant for human consumption or decorative purposes. Three doesn’t change anything. The count resets once you enter the queue. And you’re not in the queue—you’re in the hallway, which is not a designated waiting area. Would you like a hallway waiting number