Hares: Thunder Tits, Inspector Butt
Where: Riverbend Station Neighborhood Pub
Big Rock: $10.95 jugs (including tax)
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The calendar and clock said it was eight hours into springtime, but the brisk and chilly wind suggested otherwise.
Spring or not, it was a night for toques and tights, headbands and hoodies. There were no signs of robins or blooming flowers anywhere.
On the bright side, the hash took place in Calgary, not Edmonton or Colorado or South Dakota -- places that got buried by record-setting snowfall. On the downside, hashing somewhere such as the Dominican Republic, Cuba or Mexico would have been much more pleasant.
Ah, the dreams.
But reality was hashers gathering outside Riverbend Station Neighbourhood Pub in the southeast for a trek that included the lovely Ogden area, home to trailer parks and pungent chemical smells. Meth labs anyone?
Co-hares Thunder Tits and Inspector Butt made sure the pack got to see sights such as: Glenmore Trail and its apparently out-of-order crosswalk sign, a trailer park where Kawky could purchase his next El Camino for immediate re-sale, and an actual Hell's Angels' bar.
A bitterly disappointed Kawky, unable to find the Olds Delta 88 of his dreams, composed himself in time to serve as guest RA.
"When you see trailer parks from outer space, don't they have a big bull's-eye on them so those Midwestern U.S. tornadoes know where to hit?" Kawky asked, as he gazed longingly toward the cluster of double wides -- or maybe it was single wides -- hoping to find his next car.
Yes, indeed, they do. It's all part of the God doesn't like trailer parks thing.
Fortunately, the pack returned to the bar, safe and sound. No gunshot or stab wounds, no meth buys, no getting run over by souped-up pickup trucks, no nothing. And it was on to business:
"I had to bail or I was gonna die," said Lay 'Em, who took the worst
spill seen since the Chinese woman ice skater did the horrific splits in
the Olympics. Luna, who couldn't figure out what the fuss was about,
declined comment, except for excessive tail wagging.
Whatever the reason, Sticky Lips, who is often a Hash Thingy magnet, was more than happy to surrender the plunger. She worked especially hard not to get it again, even eschewing suggesting songs, even when there wasn't an official choir.
Sticky was unusually quiet during the run too, except to say, "I'm
soooooooooooooooooooo hot" -- as though she was daring anyone to
disagree with her. No one did.
"Old age is hell, what can I say?" said Duke, who may be a bit younger
than the electric guitar. Or maybe not.
"If I can figure out some way to keep the wings hot in the machines, I
can make millions," Hardly said. "And maybe a Red Bull machine
alongside. It'll take Canada and North America by storm."
"If I never see another sequin again, it'll be too soon," said Twisty, who will actually get to see plenty of sequins through Sunday. "Then again, where else do you get to watch Chinese skaters performing to Led Zeppelin?"
Duke of Hurl
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