Fellow hashers, through the good grace of our lord of the hash (not to be confused with the lord of the dance), four hares where reborn on Saturday. Brother Stained Sheets heard the calling to minister to his fellow hares and with this seasoned professional's help French Toasted, Late Comer, Puts it Out and Latin Anal-ist were forgiven of past sins against the hash. With the ten mile hash death march still fresh in the hash psyche, we prayed for a well-marked, 4-6 mile trail. Brothers and Sisters, we were not disappointed. The hash was treated to a shiggy-laden, flour-dotted, mile-marked run which ended with warm lasagna and cold beer. A far cry from the cheese-sandwich fare with greeted hashers at the end of the first fiasco of a trail these hares hared.
The usual group of deviants gathered in a middle school parking lot off of 495. Harddrive was wiping down his car windows with Windex (can you say anal), as Poopdeck bragged about his upcoming trip to Spain and Cunning Runt was explaining how she had been nominated as the Girl Scout Cookie Poster child after she bought three cases of Girl Scout cookies this year. The hares showed up with that glazed-over, hare-stare we all know too well. It is true that hash memory is long and if you recall, the last time these hares hared they lost a hare. This time they had taken measures to assure that this would not happen again. They each were wearing t-shirts with maps cleverly place so that the hares could simply look down at their chests and locate the direction in which to throw flour. Soon the hares were off. As we watched them leave each us of felt a twinge of apprehension. Will the trail really be less than a marathon? Will the weather hold or will we be running for miles in a cold rain? Will the hares make it to the end of their trail? These and other questions would be answered in turn. Father Abraham was led by Byte and soon the pack was off and running but not before Little Guinea's bitch took a big dump in front the "No dogs allowed" sign placed in front of the soccer field.
Missing Link led the pack astray across the field to the left but Byte found true trail directly across the field. We ran through a small playground and through some townhomes. I had been instructed earlier to stick close to Big Bird Turd as we were supposed to run through his house. I could see BBT and Lucy a bit ahead of me and as we approached his abode he let out a wild, "Those Bastards are going run through my house." The look of horror was telling. As we ran by he gently closed the gate to his backyard. Fortunately most of the hash went straight through the courtyard area of BBT's house and never made it inside. A big relief for BBT, I'm sure.
The FRBs led the pack through a wooded area and then across a muddy field. Like lemmings we followed. Unfortunately this was not true trail. Harddrive, our hash hero, finally found true trail which led up through another wooded area and behind a housing subdivision. With Blue Balls and Pinkie Penis leading the way we crossed onto a bikepath and then into another wooded area. Soon we were running in a new housing subdivision when Wilburr was stopped by a local housewife. She came running out of her garage scantily clad on bathrobe and fuzzy high-heeled slippers. Wilburr disappeared into the garage and wasn't seen again until the on-in. He claims he was just giving her the pudjamo number, but we know better. Soon the pack came upon a water stop that the hares had so kindly left for us. The front of the pack ran a big loop and ended up back at the water stop later on trail. Keyhole and Nurse Crotchet scored a huge shortcut by being at the water stop just as the front of the pack ran back by. Timing is everything.
Trail led across Our Lady of Good Counsel's baseball field as we followed Eat Me for Breakfast and Continental Drip through the last subdivision. Just as Beer Near was spotted, and much to my surprise, Dr. Jekyll came running by claiming to have been lost on trail with Missing Link. I think they had sex.
The Circle was run by Byte and with a little help from his "ho-bags" Cunning Runt, Dual Air Bags and yours truly. And who can forget our own Jack Kerouac impersonator - Drinks on Me Bud - with his "Hi my name's Bill and I work in a button factory," song and dance. That was cerebral, I think. Anniversarians were Drinks on Me Bud - 15, Pinkie Penis - 25, Latin Analyst - 25, 3 x a lady-45, Hairy Buddha - 65, No Class - 125, French Toasted - 135, and Mud Buns - 150. We had but one visitor - Jenny - Generator and one returnee - Drinks on Me Bud. There were many violations. Little Guinea had to drink for Trina's indiscretionary dump. Late sign-ins were Full Metal Balls, Stephanie Fraser, Lynn Rother, Slip Knot, 14kt. Hot Legs got a new job. Charlie drank because he didn't slide into home when he had the chance. Drive Thru had a temporary renaming to Good 'n Plenty because she ran with a box of them in her pocket. Black Box led the walkers through the mud. Dr. Jekyll sprinted to the end just to get ahead of Buddha. Missing link led the pack astray at the beginning of the run. Cunning Runt and Harddrive had a cat fight. Big Bird Turd had to drink because he wouldn't let the hash run through his house. Steel Trap and Perk-a-Set had fashion statements. Poopdeck and Screws Everybody had to drink because they are haring a run in Maine next week and Screws Everybody had to drink again for getting a new job.
On-On,
Scoop
On-On,
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