Run 752

or 'The Search for the Lost Tribe',
or better still,
'We're the Fuhkawee !!!!!!'

Fuhkawee and She-who-must-be-obeyed arrived at Bob's on the Hill shortly before the hashing hour. Several of the tribe had already arrived, and were practicing milling about. They were good. Fuhkawee's trusty steed predictably bounced over several curbs and some grass before cuming gently to rest in the middle of two parking spots. Some tribe elders mentioned that this was good Hash style, but the steed was told to park nice. It did. Little did it know what lay in store.

Fuhkawee jumped out, primed, pumped, and eager. He had a mission ! A chance to prove his worth ! He was SCRIBE !!!! (She-who-must-be-obeyed and Peekaboo both mentioned that Fuhkawee was taking the job far too seriously. Our loyal tribesman refused to let this deter his enthusiasm.)

Hoping not to miss anyone, he started recording the names of those who came. Heather, the afformentioned Peekaboo, Bag Lady, Bag 0' Poo, (who was, at the time, gently dreaming of future fame and fortune) Twisted Sister, Stupid Question, Kawky Whorer, On-In, Clutch-Bag, Super-Soaker, Skewbic Hare, Dreary, That, Knobslinger, ACD, Lumberjack, Kaptain Von Krappppp, and a stranger ! Upon interrogation the stranger responded that his hash name was Herbert McAully! Fuhkawee became disoriented at this bizarity. Bag Lady noticed, and graciously offered assistance. The count went on : Hiballs, Wants It, Moonshiner, Three point Landing.......

'LINE UP IN A CIRCLE!!!!!' came the cry. Introductions were in order.

On-On went the count...... Mudflap, Mydol, Smirk, Ptooie!, Lakey, Goosebumps, $22.80 a night (CDN), Keg, Goldilocks, Whiteballs, Hardly, Ruby Lips, Blueballs, Baby, Lost It (in a rather strange tyre. no. in rather strange attire...), Pole Vault, King Shit, Shack Shock, Hair of the Dog, Hardly, Wet One, Tiny Bubbles, Rubber Bumper, Nipple Detector, Whale Wanker.

Also noticed was OralB, who had returned after a while.

Some new boots were called in : Jeff, Anne, Candace, Betsy and Larry.

Introductions complete, the replacement Hashmaster (Kawky), announced that it was time for announcements.

He announced 'Erections', then passed out.......some stuff.
He announced 'Seance (or some such thingy) at the Mismanagement meeting'
It was asked who was cuming. Amid shouts of 'I am', 'Me too', Fuhkawee added his 'just breathing hard', but was suitably ignored. Mismanagement sounded good ! Free beer and food !

He(Kawky) announced that run 750 was good.

Dreary announced that FM was this Saturday. Whale Wanker provided hand signal interpretation, but with the yakking, even the deaf would not have heard them.

Also announced was the Bike Hash. 'Five Bucks !!' came the bid.

THEN ! the hares were introduced. Whiteballs, and $16 a night, who declared that she was (for the night) worth $22.80 CDN.

It was described that X was bad, O meant that thinking was required (also possibly really bad), and $ was good.

Finally, amid cries of 'On-On' (and the resounding BLATT BLATT of Dreary's tubular thing), the tribe set off on the hare-hunt.

The trail went down (good), and at 300m, the first O was discovered. Fuhkawee decided Knobby's wierd behavior at this point was to do with the Electromagnetic Radiation being put out be the power distribution site that was nearby. The correct way was discovered, and On-On they went.

'This was going well' thought Fuhkawee 'lots of opportunity to observe and write !' But NO, NOT TO BE !!!! All of a sudden, She-who-must-be-obeyed was face down on the turf. 'This is Monday, why is she doing that ?' wondered Fuhkawee 'Thursday is ant-watching night.'

But Lo, his dearest lay wounded. As the Hash tried to comfort her, Fuhkawee did what he thought best. He got his truck to end the misery (the guns were at home, along with the bow and arrows). 'OFF-ROAD !!!' cried the gas-guzzling rust heap 'Varroooomm!!!'.

Unfortunately, upon arriving at the injured Hasher, there were still witnesses. So She-who-must-be-named was loaded into the truck (yes, the cab) and taken where comfort is best found, the On-In.

Our fearless tribesmen then returned to the trail. He still had his duty to the tribe ! Scribage must be done ! But the trail was cold. Fuhkawee hunted for the tribe. Where could they have gone ? The Hash-challenged natives were of some help, 'They went that way, but that was some time ago'. Fuhkawee couldn't help but notice that several of the natives had with them very small sheep. Cute and fuzzy, but not much use to a REAL tribesman.

On-On he went, over hill and dale (hill was ok, but dale punched him), forever calling 'RU', 'RU' (eliciting strange looks from the natives), through bush and bracken. On and on, occasionally catching glimpses of the trail, but never the tribe.

Finally; desperate, thirsty, and kind of bored, our scribe decided to use math.

What goes up must cum down & Shit goes downhill & Hares must drink

AHA ! Ipso Facto, Eureka! Off to the origin! where there was much rejoicing and drinking, etc.

Once again with the tribe (and having assurred that SWMBO was ok) he returned to scribely duties, and started listening in. What follows is what was heard :

OralB advice to Fuhkawee's mate - 'always look down' (Fuhkawee likes this advice...)

Kawky & King Shit:

KH

'I don't know how to do it'

KS

'I neeeeed it. I won't see you for a whole week!'

KH

'Tell me how, and I will do it for you'

At this point Fuhkawee thought the two needed privacy, so left to check on the injured one.

Later, Kawky was overheard talking to Dreary :

KH

'When do you want to start ?'

D

'We can do it whilst everyone is busy'....

Hmmmmmm

Also noticed on the tribe was an abundance of round yellow markings. Had they been captured and tatooed by an enemy tribe ? No. Someone had purloined some hash trach, and 'stickered' them.

Then, 'TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE' went the RA. ('cool' thought Fuhkawee)

Lakey announced that 4 days with the hash was almost too much, and was glad that 750 was over.

Down-Downs began.

Hares : $22.80/night and Whiteballs.

New Boots + Archived : OralB, Herbie and the Virgins (playing the Saddledome Friday night....)

The Hash Choir (a most excellent chorus).

Kawky, for handling the caterer (methinks this guy gets around some)

Kaptain Von Krapp, for whakking Lakey's love-toy with a frisbee. (was Lakey jealous ?)

4teats, for riding the last 50 paces to the circle in a car......

Shack Shock, for pretending that her hip-hickey was a mirror bump.

And, finally, She-who-must-be-obeyed (formerly known as Heather) was named by Lakey as (not Bitesit) (not goes-down-quickly) but

GopherBroke

'most excellent' though Fuhkawee 'but they must have tiny little saddles....'

So, having failed completely in the position of Scribe, I sign off, calling.......

'We're the Fuhakwee, We're the Fuhkawee !!!!'

ps.
GopherBroke's ankle was badly twisted, but after X-rays, the good Dr. Harrari determined that the bones were not snapped, but the little ligament on the outside of the ankle was dis- combooberated (a technical term). Kudos, accolades, and many really good wet dreams to the emergency staff at the Rockyview. Our visit, on what appeared to be a rather busy night, lasted (including lining up, waiting, triage, xray, etc.) about 45 minutes !

Thankyou's and XXXX-rated dreams also to the Hashers who provided ass-istance. Dreary, soak your shirt in beer for a week, and it should be ok. It could be worse, instead of 30 minutes in a runner, the foot could have been 12 hours in a nursing shoe...


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