all about the benjamin

gavin cardigan walked into the Pub, hung his fedora on the wall, and greeted his old friend behind the bar.

"danny, my old friend behind the bar!  what's for supper?"

danny blake looked up from behind the bar and replied, "a greasy, cheesy plate of enchiladas.  how's that grab ya?"

"like a long lost lover, my old friend," cardigan reached for the ale that his old friend danny just poured.  "what's going on tonight?"

danny nodded to the table in the back.  "go on back.  they'll fill you in."

cardigan hmph'd at the lack of an answer and made his way back to join the Pub regulars.  "what's going on here tonight?"

"gavin, the Pub is premiering a brand-new show before it goes to broadway!" marian elfman exlaimed, exclamation mark and all.  "it's very exciting!!!"

cardigan raised a quizzical eyebrow.  "oh, yeah?  what kind of show?"

"you know about that show, 'hamilton,' that's captured broadway, right?"  sierra quizzed him.

"mmhmm."

"well, it seems that one of your friends here took some exception to the story, so he has apparently written his own show," a long-legged fellow next to sierra informed him.

cardigan's other eyebrow raised even more quizzically then the first.  "why would tucker take exception to that story?  and, pardon me, but who are you, exactly?"

"oh, of course.  we haven't met.  sierra has told me so much about you that i feel like i've known you forever, mate.  the name's ffoote.  jasper ffoote."  the newby extended a hand and shook cardigan's.  "and it's not tucker, it's--"

"i'm not late, am i?"  a nearly breathless foxy charles came rushing in, giving gavin a quick peck on the cheek and jasper a quick hug.  '

"late for what?  and hey, foxy lady."

"for that," danny pointed at the stage as a familiar potbellied, silver-haired founding father took the stage as he delivered cardigan's enchiladas.

cardigan rolled his eyes as benjamin franklin started to rap:

     in west philadelphia born and raised
     on the playground is where i spent most of my days

"wasn't he born in boston?" sierra asked, rhetorically, since the notoriously detail-oriented cage dancer knew details of that sort.

"so charles, how do you and jasper--"

"shhh, gavin!"

     ham tried to be respectable
     but i invented spectacles
   
"this show isn't going to be 3-hours long, is it?  even benjamin franklin isn't that interesting."

"gavin, hush!  you're starting to sound like burkie." the Mysterious Lurker admonished him before drawing sierra's attention to the now shirtless patriot.  "girl, look at that body!"

     i work out

"tucker, as the only professional musician among us, what do you think of all this?"

"ah, well," tucker looked slightly abashed.  "it's not really my genre, so i can't judge."

his girlfriend, linda nulo, leaned over and bashed him again, with slightly more bash this time.

     i am the very model of
     a mod postmaster general

cardigan groaned.  "he went there."

marian stared daggers at him to the point where he thought he was going to bleed.

     whenever folks be feelin' whack
     they look into my almanack

"say," gavin looked around as if it were the first time he'd been in the Pub for years.  "does anybody else feel like rip van winkle here?"

     two schuyler girls go
     'round the outside
     'round the outside
     'round the outside


 cardigan looked down at his surprisingly empty plate of enchiladas just in time to see sierra drop a cheese-coated fork onto it.

"you dropped your fork, cardigan."

     ham claimed i made his stomach turn
     and i said, "yo homes, feel the burrn!"

"you sure this is going to broadway?  which broadway?"

"shush, gavin.  this is history!"

     you think ham made history?
     then kiss my electricity!

cardigan chuckled.  "that was actually pretty good.  he should end with that."

     a twenty ain't but ten 'n ten
     i'm all about the benjamins!

cardigan signaled danny and pointed at his empty pint glass, holding up 3 fingers.

"it's gonna be a long night."

"shush!"