On local pranks .... with a bow to Tandem Friends School for reviving a fine tradition.

Some years ago while eating a sandwich in Lee Park, I found a manuscript lying under a bench. It told an interesting story, one never before shared, of a local prank that may or may not have happened. Perhaps you'd like to hear it.
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At one time a group of central Virginians used to meet for occasional dinners at their own homes and at finer dining establishments here.

Some of the men in the group were chefs at leading restaurants and hotels, others were lovers of fine food and good judges of it. These soirees were informal contests to see who could prepare the most interesting meal.

One year the Boar's Head Inn chef's night to host the group fell on New Year's Eve. That was convenient, for on New Year's Eve this group wore formalwear to dine, even when they dined at someone's home. At the areas most sumptious and splendid Inn formal dress would be appropriate.

Early in the day as plans for the evening were being made, it occurred to someone that in his freezer was the severed head of a large pig left over from a pig roast. It had been put in the freezer months before to await an auspicious time to enter society.

"Tonight we must bring the pig," someone said, and no one thought otherwise.

While pondering how to get this large porcine head into the Inn undetected, a tall and inventive blond remembered she would be wearing crinoline skirts and could conceal it between her legs. To that end, the head was removed from the freezer and implored to seek room temperature as quickly as possible.

Eight hours later the group arrived at the Inn, all at the same time, dressed to the nines and ready for the cook-off. The men waited in the lobby while the women went off on some female errand, then they took their seats at the banquet table.

"Uh ... where is it?" someone asked. "You'll see," the tall blond replied.

A few minutes later the chef delivered his welcome and the menu, and the group got a glimpse of treasures soon to be served. There was hardly time to savor beyond the oysters Rockefeller when a shriek, a bellow, then a series of screechs were heard coming from the area of the lobby.

The group glanced at each other, the tall blond chuckled, and they went back to their menu.

Eventually an explanation of the disturbance filtered back to the dining room by way of the Inn staff.

It seems a guest had entered the women's powder room and, in search of smaller, more private quarters, had entered a stall. There, according to her, she found a large, hairy animal climbing out of the porcelain facility.

She screamed and fled into the lobby, shreiking and bellowing. Every staffer on the ground floor rushed to the scene to investigate.

The group never learned if the staff tried to explain to her the difference between an aggressive, live animal and a pig head in a toilet, or just said the hell with it. Nor was it ever determined what became of the head. Nor did the Inn staff or owner John Rogan ever learn how this occurred or who caused it, for the chef was not involved or informed.

He did his level best as chef, turned out an absolutely terrific rack of lamb, and the group ate and drank until well past 11. It was superb fare and was voted No. 2 for that year.

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How this manuscript came to be left under a bench in Lee Park, and who wrote it, we will likely never know. It was unsigned. As to whether it relates fact or fiction, who is to say. I'm aware there was a gourmet group here in the 70s and 80s fitting that description but it's been defunct for 15 years.

Rey Barry, 2000 (electronic mail, June 1, 2000).