The Father A was led by the tag team of Poop Deck and Steamer-- I heard many compliments for our graceful rendition, including several comparisons to the US Olympic synchronized swimming team. Before the pack took off, Poop Deck announced that Byte Lightning would need some assistance with the hashit. Basically, since co-hashit Hard Drive was not present to share the glory with Byte (see last week's trash for further details of how we arrived at this sage decision), it was decided that there would be no better stand-in for Hard Drive than his original accuser, Blank Check! Blank was to take the hashit at about the halfway point in the trail: at the water check.
Off we went, in search of white flour, across Beulah Road and down a suburban street. Blank Check called out to Byte: "Don't forget to wait for me at the water check!"
Soon the pack turned from a parking lot up into a trail along power lines. I was pondering to myself what the heck I'd find to write about on such an uneventful (so far) run, when I was almost run down by a doe! She just jumped up out of the surrounding brush, panic-stricken at the sight of MVH3 hashers, and she made a dash cover in the nearby woods, missing me by scant feet. So much for an uneventful hash!
Snow Fairy approached a bit later with a floral arrangement improvised from wildflowers along the trail: 'Who wants the Olympic torch?'
One quarter mile later the pack was scrunched up at one of three available drainage tunnel entrances. It was fairly slick in the wet part, but as long as you kept to the dry parts everything was copasetic (as several butt-wet hashers found out from direct experience). On the far side of this Tunnel Of Love lay large rocks that had to be negotiated before the far bank of the culvert, and then a check provided the pack diversion for several minutes.
Down through more neighborhoods, and we soon found ourselves in leafy green woods on unpaved trail! Keeping an eye out for additional wildlife, eventually we came upon another drainage tunnel. It was here that Red Snapper was heard to remark, "I can't spread my legs wide enough!" This only involved a spread of about a foot, so I can only speculate what Red Snapper's sex life must be like. Coming out of the Second Tunnel-O-Love, we encountered more of those big drainage rocks, and then through some neighborhoods displaying meticulously manicured lawns.
On through townhouses and apartments, Poop Deck and I were confronted by a peeved resident: "Why are you blowing those whistles?"
"Because we are On The Trail! On On!" Maybe she was upset because the only cartoons on this late in the summer are reruns...around a corner, and true trail was to be found in the gap under a fence, up a hill, and the On In was in sight.
The Circle
The first thing I checked out at the end was the status of Byte Lightning: did he, or did he not possess the hashit? Byte was smiling broadly, and the hashit was nowhere to be seen. Blank Check held on as the custodian for a while longer, which wouldn't be long, as it turned out.
Probably close to half an hour after the previous hashers, Dual Air Bags, Hot & Sticky, and Captain Titanic came in (bringing up the rear, so to speak). Dual Air Bags, quite pleased with herself, stated that Hot & Sticky would 'never go back to that boring old way' of doing things...
Our hares drank for their trail, followed by the Anniversaries: Capt Titanic (105), Tore Ass (65), Yes Dear (35), Sticky Buns (15), Mary Marineau (5), and Kimo Bacon (5).
Virgins were next, including in their number Marshall Harper, Claud Jones, Jennifer Schmiel, Scott Scherbenske, Rich Harrison, Mike Fez, Bill Moore, and Greg Gardner. Returning MVH3 hashers were Hands Solo, Staff Infection, and Robin Everett.
Before we proceeded to the violators (and there were many violators this day), we had a naming. Paul Kelly, who for some reason known only to him (and maybe Tore Ass), wanted a name involving 'ass'. Finally, the naming committee settled on one: Ass Licker. Political Correctness being what it is today (and believe me, it has infiltrated the hash), the Scribe was later lobbied to help Ass Licker come to terms with his new nomenclature, without totally sacrificing his self-esteem [allow me to digress for a moment: here we see the essential difference between the Army and the USMC. Ask a Marine about self esteem, and he'll tell you he didn't learn about it in boot camp, and therefore he doesn't need it].
The Rap Sheet
The violators included Red Snapper, still suffering the effects of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (I never realized that not being able to spread was a symptom);-
Byte Lightning, for stopping at the water stop (even if it was to get rid of the hashit);-
Stained Sheets, for washing his car, thus causing the rain;-
Steamer, for getting promoted by the Navy;-
Dan Terwilliger, for signing in as a visitor;-
Tore Ass, Fire & Ice, Dual Air Bags, and Hot & Sticky, for sex on trail (even if it wasn't necessarily with each other);-
Topless Skateboarding Nun, late sign-in;-
Snow Fairy, for working on trail; and-
Hot Legs and Wankers Aweigh, for holding hands on trail.
When it came time to award the hashit, Wide Open was nominated for having a broken greeting card in lieu of a whistle on trail. The only problem was, it constantly blared out the Marine Corps hymn! Well done, Wide Open, may you carry the hashit with pride!