Monday again. At the Crowchild Twin Arenas, which has been seen sneaking across Nose Hill Drive at night
lately, according to Dreary, but we all know that it's really on the SOUTH side of 85St.
A moderate sized herd of hashers were masterfully led astray by Pyro, and some woman in a parka ( I think it
was Stupid Question, so I won't ask). The marks were chalk, and pretty blue polka-dot tape, easy to follow, easy
to chew.
The combined intellect of the massed hashers determined that we should all reconvene at Suds&spuds (south side Anderson LRT station, just east of Deerfoot trail).
A magnificent surge of energy sent the pack once again careening into a neighborhood near you, creating havoc, hooting and whimpering into the evening mist. A few (the same few as always) seem determined to make the event a race, while others (this time HOT Dog, No Hare, Christine, Whalewanker) seem to think we are part of some cute little Nature Trail set up by Girl Guides: wandering about, picking flowers, giving them their correct botanical names, and pressing them between the pages of some religious tome is NOT correct Hash etiquette.
Anyway, through street and road, dale and stream strode the 500, cars to the left of them, grassy banks to the right of them, rivers on front, onward to glory they gallantly forded minnow infested streams.
Wet grass was no impediment to these intrepid explorers, huge tracts of waving green grasses threatened their resolve, but on, and down, into the Bow river valley they bravely meandered. Not knowing that behind each blade of grass, more terrible fates awaited their every leaden step.
Once, a rabbit pounced, mere hundreds of yards away. The expedition was forced to re-route around the area, and flags put up to warn future explorers.
Who would be eaten next? Who was missing now? What are those huge blocks of stone and glass? What are those smaller blocks of shiny colored stuff, with wheels which cause them to roll incessantly, looking for prey?
A harrowing experience for all for all ended peacefully after many hours back at the Twin Arenas.
Skewbic Hare bravely drives up and gives some feeble excuse for not hashing, but that he was perfectly willing to BASH anyway.
Little did we know that this was just the beginning: The trend had begun.
Upon arriving at the Hash pub, the brave hashers were dumbstruck, and confounded to find that their numbers were swelling WILDLY.
"What can this be", cried Knobby. "This ain't right" roared LapDog. But, it was true!!
It was soon discovered that so many people crave the brilliance, wit and charm of the Hash ON IN behaviour that they choose simply not to run at all, but to merely make it a nice little social gathering, and chit chat, in a bar.
How cute. Cheers.
Lakey, in semi full regalia leapt into the fray with greeting for returning/leaving/visiting ex/sometimes/never-before hashers and then the beer was flying mercilessly.
Wants It was stripped of her Hash Shit and Pussy Killer was saddled with it for a new Hash Shit record fourth time! [Methinks Knobby still has a stranglehold on that record. -ed.] What a shitholder!! Beer, beer, beeer, beeer, yadayadayadadadada!!
P'tooie, having been running in his sleep, achieved his 50 run milestone mug in record time; PoleVault got the halfyard and was awarded a NICE BAG for his 150th, taking only 5 years to achieve this magnificent award. Claims that he already had a nice bag, and didn't need another were not refuted.
750th, Stampede run, stuff to pay for, beer to drink, sex to have, life to search for.
Thanks for a good run Pyro and SQ, much appreciated!
ON ON
-- Pole Vault
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