Scribes set "Awefulsome" Trail
Never again shall they be allowed to hare together!
So sayeth the FRBs, so sayeth the HASH
Run # 520
July 26, 1997
WhiteOak, Md.....also known as the fucking end of the world.
Hares: YesDear, Scoop & CamelJumper
Keeping that good-ole scribe tradition alive, the MVH3 scribes, YesDear and
Scoop with a little help from Camel Jumper, "treated" MVH3 to one
spectacular trail...bordering on a WankersAweigh/HotLegs hash. Early
favorable trail quotes attributed to Joint Master Steamer in last week's
yellow rag (MVH3 TRASH) were obviously taken after that gentle giant was
overcum by the heat, humidity and lack of trail flour. In fact, even
Byte-the-Ho declared his fun meter to have peaked at the second waterstop -
only one hour into this memorable trail. That's what happens when you get
wound a little too tight and you let the Scribes run together! It reminds
me of another hash where white flour was used to mark trail on white
snow....eh BlankCheck?
Hashers began this run in a parking lot by Sears in a place that required
you pack seven mules with provisions for the journey as well as to get your
passport and visa in order. Luckily, DualAirBags had stocked her car with
Twinkies for just such an emergency, having traveled the better part of two
days to get from WhiteTrashVille, Virginia to the start in BumFuck,
Maryland, arriving just in time to be off. Not that she isn't always just a
little off anyway.
Keeping with the new "supervisory" role of the Joint Master, Byte got
WideOpen to lead the pack in 'Ather Abraham and then give the virgin chalk
talk. (Have others of you noticed how WideOpen has to do all the work while
Byte and Steamer just lounge about? Just a keen observation from a
concerned hasher.) Of course there was no chalk so that made the discussion
rather moot. A final warning from the Hare's to "Think Safety First" and
only cross the road at the stoplight was quickly spread among the swelling
throng causing uproars of laughter. Naturally at the first road crossing,
the pack immediately stormed across the road far from any "safe" crosswalks
snarling local traffic. No wonder the hash has such a great reputation.
Trail from here was nothing short of a road race where the hundreds of
hashers in attendance were once again forced to look at Byte's ugly little
butt as he dashed forward. The first check (about 14 million miles from the
start) set the tone for the rest of the day. The FRBs, BushMaster,
Byte-the-Ho and CunningRunt, sucked (note that sucking is not necessarily a
bad thing) the entire pack along one mighty BT. This BT was so long that
the likes of S'not and CheapSlut were spotted by the FRBs. No, Elvis was
working as a gas pump attendant today and so, was not on trail as some
rumors have suggested. True trail was eventually found by BushMaster,
running as fast as ever and mostly on BTs.
As BushMaster headed into the distance, HardDrive arose and carried the
pack to the next check across another busy highway and to a single-track
trail. For those of you not familiar with this technical term, it means a
trail not quite wide enough for you to be able to put both your feet
together side-by-side and where the FRBs get stuck behind the likes of
Wilburr. On this fine day, Wilburr decided to be a little headstrong,
teasing CunningRunt and Byte by sidestepping for a moment and then crashing
back onto the path before they could get by. Nice guy...sounds like he
would make a heck of a Scribe. Hint, hint, Hintz. Of course there are
rewards for some on trails like this. For example, several of us were able
to witness the dunking of HairyBuddah. Buddah was ambling along the path
just fine when all of a sudden he lost his footing and went tumbling down
the embankment and into the scummy water of the local stream - head first.
Seeing a wet HairyBuddah is quite a scary thing and once it was established
that he was not hurt, the pack quickly moved along.
Continuing on through the PI infested woods, the pack stumbled upon the
first water stop/check. Byte immediately headed off onto a BT, came back
and headed off onto another BT. However, this second one was much more
interesting as he "came" upon SwampBitch with her pants around her ankles
doing an environmental. This so shook our fearful leader that he floundered
about unable to find true trail. Luckily, Dr. Jekyll (note the spelling
folks) was around and quickly found true trail off to the left.
Sooner thereafter the trail dumped the pack into a lovely neighborhood of
townhomes and little, itsy, bitsy pieces of flour here and there. Later we
learned that this was the 3 mile section set by Scoop. (Each hare had a
three mile section of their own.) It was obvious from the lack of flour
that Scoop has been taking haring lessons from the GreatFallsHash! After
milling about several major highway intersections and a brief stint back at
the start, an un-named hasher found true trail miles from the last flour.
As we dashed forward praying for the end, all we found were more hills,
little flour and....a second water stop.
Completely emotionally destroyed, thinking that we still had a third of the
trail to go, hasher fun meters were seen and heard exploding all around the
waterstop. All except for BushMaster who thought this was just great. And
to make a bad situation worse, MissingLink and FullMetalBalls were now on
trail and leading the pack!
Twas a quick jaunt through a park and a brief sojourn in the woods to a
down-down under a highway. The hares did well in picking such a lovely
spot: we had the roar of the cars above, cold flowing water in a stream
below, and Maryland-iced beer. Maryland ice is very unique, it doesn't keep
anything cold! So, after downing some warm beers and doing lots of weird
ritualistic stuff (No-one kept any notes, so there are no anniversaries,
visitors, returners or violators. In fact, the OnSec tells me that
basically the run doesn't count and that all the female hashers (YesDear
and Pennis claim there are no lady hashers) have to stay late after this
week's run to make out make-it-up.).
The only thing I can remember from the down-downs is a naming. Henceforth
and forevermore throughout the world of hashing, she (?) will be known as
"Brown Poupon". With the ending of Swing Low, the hares were carried out of
the woods, in their respective coffins, on the wanker's shoulders.
And with that....we're outta here!
PostScript. While we were waiting for the coolers and such, Scoop told us
all about how the messed-up section of trail was her responsibility. In
fact, she was bold enough to say that anything that went wrong that day was
her fault. The natural extension of this tenet is that Scoop is responsible
for anything that goes wrong in the hash, ever. Yes, Scoop is now our own
HashWhippingPost! So use her and use her well anytime something is not
right. It's always Scoop's fault.
In keeping with the Hash policy of providing equal time for other points of
view, no matter how useless they are......
FROM THE BACK OF THE PACK
SlickSlitLicketySplit
I felt like an abandoned lover. Yes Dear and I had hared countless of
times. I showed him the ways of LAYING a good trails and showed him the
tricks of good false trails. What gratitude do I get; he leaves me for
another harriette, Scoop. And on top of that, she has baggage, Camel Jumper.
Well, I'll show them.
I'll get to the hash hours ahead and visit all our old haunts. I'll
"discover" their trail before the pack even gets there. Hell hath no fury,
like a hare partner scorned.
As the pack set out Dr. Jekyll and Byte were discussing the possible areas
the hares could have went, they talked about the parks they passed as they
drove in. Were their guesses right? All I know is that Cunning Runt and Dr.
Jekyll begged to write from the front of the pack. (I think they guessed
wrong.) Some of this may be repetitive since I did stay with the pack for
the first uh, 1/2 mile. I got to see how the pack heeded to Byte's plea to
cross New Hamshire Rd. at the crosswalk. We all jayhashed. If only
Montgomery County's finest was out, they could have made a pretty penny. I
knew Yes Dear loved the woods but gheez we were on black top for the
longest time. And the checks, where were they. Where was all the water he
promised the hash dogs. There was another major thoroughfare crossing. All
major street look the same to me, so don't asked which thoroughfare. The
pack waited at the traffic light this time. It was enjoyable watching all
the FRB's check right and left, come back to the check, and leave again to
check right and left again before finding true trail behind the buildings.
Soon after this, we were upon the cool shade of the woods.
It was a narrow dirt trail up and down along a creek. I wonder how great
this would be for a mountain bike hash. We could witness Cunning Runt do an
endo over her handle bars as she did at Quantico a month or so ago. Boy, I
was told I made quite a bit of noise when I go down. You should have heard
her. You should have seen her clipped in her pedals and her legs pretzeled
under the crossbar. But I digress. Nick and Beazer enjoyed the stream. I
enjoyed relieiving myself with no one in sight. Footing was a bit dangerous
as a couple of harriettes went down the slippery slopes.
I know Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Harriettes say "excuse
me", "watch out for the tree roots", "careful". Male hashers don't say a
word. You only hear the thunderous elephant steps. As they pass, the
experienced hariettes learn to duck and to hold their breaths as the
hasher's odor lingers a little bit longer.
As we approached the first water check, Hairball was ahead telling us to go
to the water check and turn left. Never listen to Hairball. Like salmon
going upstream to spawn... Poison ivy and prickers were encountered, and NO
FLOUR. I know Yes Dear doesn't do this unless absolutely necessary. True to
form, after a 1/2 mile of nasty shiggy, a clean trail came upon us. So we
saved 1/10 of a mile. Thanx Hairball, you Short Cutting Bastard.
Somewhere we came out from some townhouses. Laxatone had a map (and
Hairball) in hand. The map was a little lacking, well Laxatone said alot
lacking. Then we came to either a well designed check or a ... We'll let
Cunning Runt describe it. The whole pack regrouped at this point. Since I
was pretty much in the rear, I only milled for a minute a two. But I thinks
the FRB's milled quite a bit longer. The advantages of being in the rear.
While Beazer and I were enjoying our 11 minute pace, Missing Link came
hashing by. That ended the slow amble. I was forced to run faster and
faster as Beazer tried to catch Missing Link. Luckily, a second water check
appeared. With the cooler uncapped, many dipped their cups. Beazer refused
to drink but I held her back until Link was way out of sight. I had enough
of this neck breaking pace.
*69 and I noticed a garage sale with a red dress for sale but no takers.
Our hashers must shop at the Answer Store or August Max.
An "Almost There" was spied. The pack just figured that hares wanted to
show off their command of the English language or they just wanted to drink
for a lack of a near beer. One final entry into the creek and to the ON IN.
Wilburr ought to see an optometrist. His depth perception is lacking. He
leapt into the creek from a concrete tunnel. The creek was only two feet
deep. Knees and elbows don't make good shock absorbers. We ended at
underpass where one could sit on rocks in the creek and cool their puppies.
It took a while to figure out the reason for true trail arrows down the
enbankment. This trail was used for a Wide Spot in the Dirt Road hash. Is
Yes Dear saying Mount Vernon only deserves reused trails? Is that something
like left overs or sloppy seconds?
Byte showed his lack of skill at a new tongue twister, say Cunning Runt
real fast ten times. As his tongue got tireder and more tireder, the words
slurred. And you can all guess at the result. An appropriate down down was
performed and Byte was doused in beer, and deservedly so by the Runt.