Pre-Hash Trash

In deference to the voting methods employed in Ohio, the Hash trash for run 84 has been meticulously prepared in advance of the run to ensure a “free and fair” win for the “correct people”. While John Kerry’s lawyers failed to find where the Ohio vote totals were secreted prior to election day, the crack Halve Mein team of McCavity and his trusty hound Laurel and Hardly Running have liberated this document for all to see:

The Halve Mein hash gathered once more for their tri-weekly breath of fresh air (we suspect it may be the only time some of them leave a bar), on a cold damp day suggesting the delights of winter hashing to come. With Spermbank in MN, doubtless secretly involved in the filming of “Fargo II”, it was left for Dr Queer and McCavity to compete for latest arrival. In the end, with his prodigious consumption of male enhancement chemicals it was DQ who came last. A crowd of 14 hashers champed at the bit awaiting the virgin lay of Nice Snatch, ably assisted by experienced hare Peace O’Chum. While the hares disappeared swiftly in an effort to pretend that no pre-laying had gone on, the pack were warmed by beer and the usual rendition of Father Birmingham. They it was time to gird loins, suck in guts and head out on trail.

The route proved to be only mildly shiggy, at least on the Astro Homo scale, but this did not stop THFKAD from miraculously sprouting hashing’s answer to stigmata: the cut up shins. Meanwhile the pack were unable to prevent Astro Homo from checking out trail across the Normanskill. Even when no trail led across the Normanskill, Our concern was not for Mr Homo himself, much though his trails may be revered, but for the cow he insisted on carrying. While usually hashers are only concerned with finding trail and finding beer, this run added the extra variable of bow-hunters in the area, thereby requiring anyone not wanting to be skewered by two feet of arrow to look as little like a deer’s ass as possible.

Eventually the hallowed words “Beer Near” were spotted, and hashers trailed in suffering advanced states of exhaustion, learning the true meaning of “Thanksgiving” for the cooler of beer before them. Who allowed a man who takes part in cross-country, multi terrain events to hare? And who doesn’t marvel at the fact that he has survived said events, given his spectacular ability to damage himself just by running an urban hash trail?

Back on trail the pack were relieved to hear that they were 2/3 of the way. Until they remembered that they’d already done 6 miles pre-beer. Next time Nice Snatch hares it will be with a co-hare and a 56lb lead weight. At any moment the FRB’s were expecting to enter Tawasentha Park and pick up trail from the Halloween hash, but eventually they spotted the end: and in a typical display of un-hashlike behavior it was once again Pontius who finished ahead, with THFKAD beaten to the finish. As he trailed in much later, regular FRB McCavity claimed that he had been unavoidably detained when Bodsa decided that the SB’s did not have the monopoly on “action on trail” moments. Meanwhile they denied that Laurel and Hardly Running had been involved at all. Yet we were still missing a hasher. Who would be this week’s DAL? Or would there be another corpse on trail? Was one of our number going to grace a hunter’s wall? Finally, staggering from the bush came Stinky Queef. His excuse? He had been forced to go to ground when he saw a hunter as his unique bowel physiology had made him smell too much like a deer’s ass!

With everyone home circle could commence. Our hares were recognized, our virgins tormented and welcomed, our FRB and DAL saluted. Then Bodsa and McCavity were rewarded for murky moments, followed by Pontius and Touchdown Jesus for having the worlds largest collection of whipped cream cans. Voting for Hashit was complicated by Spermbank’s absence (can we nominate him for whining on the basis he must be whining somewhere?) but nominations included Astro Homo for bovine molestation, the hares for confusing hashing with sport, THFKAD for playing in a band with a banjo player while still sporting his own teeth and Dirtbag for spending a little too long checking out the quieter parts of trail for another corpse. Purely to assist the law enforcement community he claimed despite the evidence that he just wanted a girl who would not run away. Our winner (after 14 hashers had voted using a typical Florida voting machine) was George Bush with 653 votes, then Dirtbag with 9 and John Kerry with 4.

Karl Rove (obtained by McCavity, Woodward and Bernstein)

Post hash Trash

Hounds: THFKAD, Dirtbag, Laurel and Hardly R*nning, Bodsa, Touchdown Jesus, Pontius Penis, Stickley Bunz, Dr Queer, Pigvomit, Papa Roach, No Name Amanda, No Name Chris, No Name Kim, No Name Willy, Poptop, Steamy Crevice, Stinky Queef, Astro Homo, McCavity.

Damn. What a pain in the ass it is to actually cover what went on at a real r*n, rather than just making it up. After covering what should have happened it was quite disappointing to turn up for a real r*n. Though true to form your late comers were Dr Queer, McCavity and Bodsa.

What a crowd they found at the start too. A mix of virgins (Amanda, Chris and Kim), backsliders (Steamy Crevice, Papa Roach) and prodigal hashers. Who was that vaguely familar figure? Surely not Pigvomit, former RA of this very hash, last seen after inducing a mass poisoning Jim Jones would have been proud of with Korean rocket fuel called Soju, and most recently r*nning with the Space City HHH in Houston. Plus a fine turnout of the usual rabble. In typical style the r*n began with a chalk talk including a warning by the hares that it would be the shittiest trail ever. As in shit.... dog shit, deer shit, more dog shit. We just hope Pigvomit and his legendary bowel habits will not be adding to the perils underfoot.

After a round of “Jesus Saves” and the now traditional pre-r*n ritual of “Father Birmingham” the pack set off along the Normanskill River with a mighty pack of walkers and a few unusual r*nners (who has ever seen Steamy Crevice, Bodsa and Astro Homo FRBing at the same time?). A song check was swiftly dealt with before the route started to get tougher with some checks and eventually a hash halt reachable only by scaling a mighty cliff with convenient rope. Or by walking on the nearby path for those without a sense of adventure. Trail continued through the woods before reaching a strange heiroglyphic which was not in the chalk talk. It was finally interpreted as a walking trail, only the r*nners had to head that way too, and everyone eventually discovered a Check-back 13. B*stards. The FRB’s were soon back on though, and many of the pack burst out onto a golf course. With no trail. Our intrepid GM Dirtbag soon sniffed out the next hash though and the immortal initials were spotted: BN!

BEERs were found cleverly hidden in a golf course water stand, while the hares were cleverly hidden in a nearby shed. Yeah, we are sure you were just spying on the r*nners. Meanwhile the walkers had apparently avoided the FRB’s shortcut and were lost somewhere in a shiggy circle jerk in the woods. Finally they emerged and after finishing the BEER the pack headed up the hole.... err, so to speak. Except Laurel and Hardly Running, who headed the other way. So the fact that McCavity and Bodsa ended up DAL had nothing to do with any murky moments! Honest.

After cutting through the woods the pack found a check and charged down trail, burst out onto the golf course again and..... nothing. They searched high and low and still nothing. Till a far sighted hound looked up and spied a couple of hares trying to look both conspicuous enough not to be shot by any hunters, while inconspicuous enough to be missed by the pack. Three FRB’s rushed swiftly to the chase and both hares were soon snared on a long uphill by McCavity. Whining ensued that the FRB’s had found the walking trail and the r*nners were dispatched back to try and find the true path. After much fruitless wandering trail was rediscovered and took a long route through the woods before returning to join up with the walkers.

An attempt to confuse the pack’s half minds worked as trail crossed the old trail before f*cking us about in a field until No Name Chris showed fine instincts for a virgin and got us back on track. From here trail led back to point A, though the FRB’s were given a short circle jerk, including an evil uphill check-back. The hare was finally spotted returning to A by fording the river, at which point the FRB’s decided the bridge they were standing on seemed like a better option.

After a few BEERs the pack retired to castle Snatch for a circle in increasingly steady drizzle. But there was BEER. Lots of BEER. Kegs full of the stuff. If not for the rain we might still be out there circling:

At this point the circle was suitably moistened and dispensed swiftly with the required singing before piling into Chez Snatch for a spectacular traditional Thanksgiving feast. Minus Brussel Sprouts thanks to the non appearance of Francis (Don’t Touch My Sprouts or I’ll Kill Ya!). And more BEER. Lots of BEER!

Well done to our neophyte hare and his hare-raiser for a great day. Snatch would also like to note that he still has turkey soup left if anyone needs some.

On-On!

If you have anything to add, send a note to thfkad@hmhhh.com.