| HISTORY |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| Here is the story, in all of it's glory, of this thing called the N.S.C.C. It begins in the last, of the century past, and here's how it was all told to me. A group of young punks, all professional drunks, that often were up to no good, would hang out in the park, 'til long after dark, in their North side neighborhood. "So what should we do? We've got time and brew, and a nice bag of the kind." "Well I could go get, that old croquet set" Said a fellow bombed out of his mind. They now had the tools, but could not find the rules, but a few of them had played before. Took the rules that they knew, and added a few, and to this day they keep adding more. Now every Tuesday, they go out and play, regardless of rain or of shine. They smoke what they've got, and drink beer a lot, except at the games they drink wine. |