Run #1079 - It was a dark and snowy night

December 2, 2002

Hares: Lakey & P'Tooie
Where: Silver Point Pub (ye olde Suds & Spuds by any other name)
Attendance: 52

CHAPTER 1

It was a dark and snowy night. Suddenly a cell phone rang out. Many bodies lay out in the roadway. Something was definitely up and I'm not just talking about the front of Hash Master Skewbie's tights. A veritable plethora (some called it a gaggle) of underdressed (except for Arctic parka man) no life individuals shivered as they waited endlessly for all the upcoming attractions to be announced before they started their evening journey in the direction of King Shit's birthplace.

The somewhat directionally challenged group only made it 3 blocks before deciding to give up on that questionable quest and instead decided to search for beverages of a brown colour instead. It only took them a mere 45 minutes to figure out how to get back to the start. Up and down, in and out, panting and heaving they managed to footprint almost every millimeter of Silver Springs in the process. Commenting later on this episode, Hash Test would say that she had been ridden hard and put away wet while Kebab spent her travel time fruitlessly searching for Makes Him Cum, but, panters and heavy breathers were a dime a dozen.

CHAPTER 2

Back inside the bar, Smirk referred to this latest "best ever" run as a cereal adventure owing to all the fruitless loops he ran, including the same loop twice because he was going so fast he couldn't stop at the start of the loop. Meanwhile, Not To Deep complained that Pool Boy was not nearly fast enough. Is it just me or does anyone else feel a bruin and porridge story coming on?

On a happier note, Sexcellent came for the first time in a long time. What could be stranger?

And then it happened. Someone noticed that our RA, Queen Pull It, had been kidnapped by an agressive splinter group of height challenged Lilliputians. They demanded 17 bottles of "Trad" in return for her freedom. The Hash countered with an offer of a half bag of cheese bacon bits (graciously donated by Bobbin) and 7 Grasshopper. Negotiations were still ongoing as Down Down time arrived so, ex Grand Poobah and exhalted Hash Master Choir Boy lept into the fray and annointed the choir, consisting of Neon, Bum Titty, Nipple D. and ACD. It would later be said that they had the combined musical abilities of a rhinocerous playing the harp.

CHAPTER 2 5/8 (Chapter 1.68 U.S.)

First up for down downs were the run's hares, Crazy Horse and Sal. They indicated that had Lakey and P'tooie not whined and kvetched about setting the run with them, they could have had the whole trail done and marked in 15 minutes instead of 2 and half hours. Worse, while they were checking out the back of P'tooie's auto, the heretofore aforementioned P'tooie and Lakey swallowed their down down beer!

Then came Blow No Evil who accepted her 50 run mug to the painful melodic musings of the optomistically referenced "choir".

Poor Trail Tripper suffered the same harmonic indignity while receiving his 50 run mug as well.

Finally, Choir Boy's tender ears could suffer no more and with a forceful "bugger it!!, he added Whale Wanker, Air Brakes and Dreary to the musical massacre.

Juan Nut Sue (see also Fag Named Sue and One Nut), up for his 100th run silver mug was the first to experience the "enhanced" choir. It soon became apparent to all that this "enhancement" consisted of those who had taken the money given to them by their parents for singing lessons and had squandered it all on fast women and loose cars.

Lamb Chop and Carnegie Hall Wanker were then downed for a sexual offense in that LC was telling all who would listen that only he knew how Wanker likes it. Appropriately, they quaffed to the gay melodic tune of "Hashing Men".

Big Salad was downed for failing to see the trail marks right in front of her nose. While attempting to blame the lack of ambient light at the time, she displayed a better sense of vision by looking down at the errr....ummmm...... upper part of her tights and proclaiming, "Oh geeez! I've got a hole!

Then Limp Dick was downed for moisturating a portion of a dark back lane. Not dark enough it seems, as eagle eyed Hottie caught him in flagranto.

And finally, Always With Wings was downed for "screwing the box, but, tripping over the lip". Apparently this involved a sexually compromising escapade with a pool table. Gives new meaning to the term, "8 ball in the corner pocket".

CHAPTER 3

Oh, the hororrrr, the hororrrrrr of it all!! I am, of course, referring to the recurring secretive practice of some hashers to stuff young fruits and vegetables into their undergarments to gain a size/length advantage over their fellow hashers. A lot of you wrongly think this issue only arises during the summer al fresco season. Au contraire mes amies! And not only is this maneuver obviously lacking in the spirit of fair play, but, far worse, it needlessly traumatizes these poor innocent and defenceless young melons, berries and vegetable protruberances. And really, do you honestly think you're fooling anyone? Well, OK, perhaps after 5 pints of Trad maybe, but, MOST hashers know that only long english cucumbers come completely wrapped, only bananas taste like...well...bananas, and when was the last time you felt a cantalope that could pass for a hooter (and if he couldn't tell the difference, is this really the type of person you'd want to wind up bearing...ummm...errrr...fruit with? Of course not!! These mango mangling hashers need help to stay away from the fruit and produce sections of Safeway and CoOp until they can treat a zuccini or honey dew with the respect and sensitivity they deserve. Dial 1-800-Save a plum to get involved and volunteer as a special undercover fruit police constable during the hectic Xmas season. All righty then! I'm glad I got this far too overlooked issue off my chest. We now continue with your regularly scheduled story.

CHAPTER 4

In this chapter we deal with the extra stuff you may have missed where you not as diligent in keeping your ear to the ground as your intrepid cub scout reporter-in-training was on Monday night.

Mr. B. Balls (and it certainly was cold enough to turn them blue) confides that there were many verrrrrry sneaky checkbacks on the run. Or you could just have taken We Tone's approach and run right through them.

Mydol is searching for a medium to go over his extra large. I'm not aware of the connection between the spiritual world and hallucinatory sizing, but, the good news is that he managed to coax, cajole and conniption fit a few more hashers into signing up for the Hash Xmas party this cumming Friday so early indications are that it will be a go. And in the oh so eloquent words of Smirk, financial fiduciary for Hashing funds, "So, pay up already, you wankers!!"

In case you're not up on these things, Ms. B. Bush and Mr. R. Bastard will be secretly rendezvousing in Turks. Sun, sand....SPF factor 70. And well, not so secretly anymore.

And whilst I'm holding up Ms. Bush to the media glare, please be advised that this Saturday, December 14, Ms. Bush will be celebrating her 19th birthday...for only the 31st time. I'll pause here to allow you time to get your calculators. 8pm at Firewater's, the non-smoking bar at 11 Ave and 9th St. SW. Cum one, cum all!

Monsieur Skin Head advises that things are so exciting in his life that he is now doing daily searches on his own name on Google. And I can happily report that he has, after many hours parked in front of his screen, found himself.

Madame Cheeks was complaining of a leg cramp which she vehemently denied was caused by a fruit stuffing deficiency.

And it is with considerable trepidation that I bring forth the next tidbit and I only do so for the sake of completeness. There was an undeniable, but, other worldly style attraction going on between Pool Boy Ron's lycra clad legs and Heidi, our evening's beverage server. I can't report on the ultimate conclusion to this heated and raw chemical attraction, but, at least no peas or pears were harmed in the process.

Le FINAL CHAPTER
(no peeking! go back and start at the beginning, you wankers!)

And finally, in the event that the Hash is unwilling or unable to meet the sinister demands made for Pull It's safe release from the Lilliputian gang, let me be the first to nominate a replacement (after a suitable period of mourning has expired). Pole Vault for RA and Lumberjack as chief assistant elf!