There was a seasonal chill in the air as the pack began swarming the parking lot outside the Pig and Whistle. Polevault, our inflated..., no, illconceived..., no, illustrious, ya, that's it, Hash Master, exerted his lack of authority and relocated the circle to an area of the parking lot that put the Hash in constant danger of being run down by all manner of vehicle. After a team photo of the latest in inmate uniforms modelled by every hasher who has a St. Patrick's Day Run shirt, Polevault began the evenings rituals.
A call for new boots went unanswered as it did later during down-downs inspite of there being a shady character thought to be called "Ralph" seen on trail and briefly at the On-In.
Archived Hashers Beaver Flats and Floats'em were introduced to the pack and I don't remember the pack being asked to introduce themselves to the archives. I won't dwell on this point, however, as my notes from the first half of the evening are a little vague. I can recite my AMA membership number though.
Various nefarious announcements were forced upon a captive audience:
The next riding of COGS Bike Hash will be Saturday, October 18, at 2:00 pm from the Crowchild Inn, 53rd St. NW. Contact P'tooie for more info.
The next Mismanagement meeting will be sometime soon, at Polevault and HOT Dog's house, somewhere in Bowness. Contact someone.
Lakey suggested we could probably buy pizzas after something.
Some sexy little waif in purple with a new 'do, claiming to be Wannabe announced a 2:00 pm run on Thanksgiving Monday followed by a Pot Luck, turkey dinner at her place.
Without further adieu the Hares for the evenings adventure were introduced. Twisted Sister and Hardly went through a very thorough graphic presentation of a lovely selection of traditional Hash markings only to claim these would have nothing to do with the trail they set. We would have to go fishing for marks. On would be a fish. Check would be a fish in a fish bowl. Check backs / false trails would be marked by dead fish. A Hash-Hold would be included in tonight's run at no additional charge.
Being directed east through the parking lot the pack was off. But then, they've always been a little bit off.
It's at this point that my notes about the run cloud up a bit. I was fortunate enough, though, to witness for the first and hopefully last time, the Hash ILSIBGMSAM Olympics. (I'm Late So I Better Get My Sorry Ass Moving). Hard Ass did a few warm up lengths of the parking lot, back and forth to her car as the pack disappeared in the distance. Clutch Bag had Super Soaker moving so fast that the poor little guy needed a flight suit. Krusty would have been out on trail sooner but he was having a little too much fun undressing himself and forgot he put his truck keys on the roof of his truck, and then handed them to someone who was locked out of his car. How smart is that? Tick, tick, tick. Furry Thing showed up in street clothes promising to Bash without Hashing. Her claim of being injured from a weekend romp with our new RA Skewbic Hair, led this reporter to delve more deeply in hopes of finding out the sordid details only to get come cock-a-maimy story about suddenly deciding to listen very intently to the tracks at Heritage Park to hear if there were any trains cumming. Shack Shock diligently attempted to find the trail only to chase down all the early falsies solo, lose the trail and return to the parking lot just as I found my keys. Right in the ignition where I locked them in for safe keeping.
Finally leaving the parking lot half an hour after the run started, there was still hope of making the Hash-Hold. Running south, we caught the pack only a few blocks before On-In was called and tried to blend in as best we could, but without cracker crumbs all over our faces it wasn't an easy task.
Back at the P & W the stories started to fly:
Skewbic Hair, in his first official capacity as our new RA, missed the run entirely, but showed his dedication by travelling half the distance to the moon, from his place to Beddington, just to honour us with his Religious Advisorship.
Sister Maria had new glasses he couldn't drink from that helped him see the run in an entirely new and anally retentive, far too serious light. He was playing with his whistle so much he rubbed his name off it. The XL sticker Sister had on it made 007 jealous that his whistle wasn't XL. $16 A Night U.S. didn't seem to worried. What exactly does that mean?
Knobslinger apparently followed the fish marks to the line at Billingsgate and by the time his number was called he had to run like a mad man to catch up.
$16 A Night U.S. was so turned on by Sister Maria's XL whistle that she tore off her clothes when her zipper stuck.
At the On-In, many more flying stories:
Judging by the amount of RA poured in preparation for down-downs everyone on the run must have committed some kind of an offense. Typical.
Hardly and Twisted Sister were downed as the Hares to the tune of "Here's to the Hares".
Skewbic Hair downed the Archives, Floats'em and Beaver flats to the sounds of "Why Were They Born so Beautiful?".
Bobbin' Robin was generously offered a free beer for so diligently securing his car keys in the safety of the ignition, which he enjoyed to the melodic accompaniment of "For He's A Syphalic Bastard". He can still hear his dear old Mom serenading him to sleep with that one when he was a child.
Sister Maria was downed for being too serious. Why Was He Born So Beautiful? No, seriously!
$16 A Night U.S. was downed to "The Sexual Life of a Camel" for the sexual offence of getting hot, jamming her zipper and tearing her own clothes off. The rest of the Harriers must have been to busy fumbling with their own zippers to help her.
Whale Wanker was downed to "Why Was He Born..." for whining. Something about there being too many fishes and the fences were too salty. Or something like that.
Beaver Flats was redowned for spending so much money on lingerie while Lap Dog was away. Just what he needs . . . something to make him cum even faster.
Pussy Killer missed being presented with the award for the Most Possessions of the Hash Shit and was duly reassigned the Hash Shit. There are constants in the Universe.
007 and Kaptain Von Krapp received down-downs for the sexual offence of burying a Harriet in leaves without joining her.
Furry Thing was downed for Bashing . . . her head into the ground.
Benwa noticed some patrons of the Pig & Whistle wearing the masking tape put on tables marked "Reserved for 8:00" and wanted to know how to apply to be 8:00. After hearing her being downed to the Woodpecker song, I'm sure those guys must have their reservations about her.
Other stuff from the evening:
Wannabe was in the rare position of BOPing during the run believed to be as a result of trying not to mess up her new hairdo.
Knobslinger was seen trying to construct a glass of beer out of the backwash from almost empty glasses within his reach. Emotionally shattered by no longer having the limelight of being RA, Knobby was later seen pilfering cigarette butts and tin cans in the parking lot.
Lynette, a dental assistant out for her second run, would only give a terse "No Comment" when asked about her thoughts of the festivities. Jeez! It's like pulling teeth to get an observation from some people.
The cause for the abrupt end of Kaptain Von Krapp's dreams of becoming an NHL goaltender became immediately evident when, after knocking a glass off a table, his cat like reflexes only managed to save the glass but not a drop of beer.
Yummy Kippers to All
On-On
Bobbin' Robin
Return to Calgary Hash HouseHarriers' home page
A big thank you to the Calgary Unix Users' Group for providing this space!