Run #1448 - The Turkey Trail

March 30, 2009

Hare: Shutter Slut, King Shit
Where: Pints & Half Pints, 719 Edmonton Trail NE
Big Rock: $10.50 Jugs of Trad and 'Hopper
Attendance: 32

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So Shutter Slut's moving where?

Oh, Islamabad or Israel or Isle of Wight or Ishtar (Wait, that was an all-time movie bomb, not an actual place) or Istantinople, the capital of Turkistan. Or somewhere like that.

Finally.

The Shutter Slut Farewell Tour, which seemingly lasted longer than Lakey's never-ending departure to Victoria and the war in Afghanistan combined, reached its merciful and overdue beer-fueled conclusion.

After completing his co-hare duties on a lovely late March evening at Pints and Half Pints on Edmonton Trail, Mr. Slut's cramming his entire existence into three suitcases and a carry-on and heading to a life of Turkish bathhouses, Turkish prisons and 11 bajillion fun-loving Muslims.

After all, you can spell F-U-N without Turkish extremists. No, wait, yes you can.

Shutter Slut's jetting across lotsa land and a whole bunch of water to start a new life of sorts with ex-Calgary hasher Happy Ending, who's already told him about their new web domain name — ThomasandAndrea.com, which sounds suspiciously like a bridal registry — and her ring size.

Cue the funereal, scary movie music.

Mr. Slut doesn't have a job yet, but he plans to start a Turks for Dubya chapter in downtown Istanbul, which should be a huge success — and do wonders for shoe sales.

He'a also getting permanent maple leaf tattoos all over his body so no militant Turks will think that he's actually American.

Ah, yes, it's a wonderful life, and good luck with all that.

Meanwhile, back at the bar, hashers gathered to follow a trail set by the aforementioned Shutter Slut and King Shit, who knows the area like the back of his hand. It's so close to home, why, he could even walk rather than scam his weekly ride.

The trail meandered around Crescent Heights and down the steep stairway to the curling club and under the Centre Street bridge, where a homeless guy huffing glue from a paper bag still was able to make way more sense than Dastardly often does. It eventually made its way to Mr. Slut's soon-to-be-former home for a beer regroup, then back to the bar.

RA Bobbin' and his rapier-like wit handed out down-downs like they were going out of style. For instance:

Shutter Slut got 47 of them for all sorts of crimes, real and imagined. He'll also have fun explaining the Hash Thingy to Turkish customs. Um, maybe that's not such a good idea. Never mind.
Auntie Frank was awarded a sexy, see-through, lingerie-like running jacket for his 200th run, which came from the porn shop in the same strip shopping centre as the bar. Flashing police car lights, which were a staple of the night, were extra.
Limp Dick managed to snag a down-down for being dressed like a Trekkie. He tried to deny it, but the weekend getaway to Vulcan was a dead giveaway.
Believe it or not, Snevil was even happier than Shutter Slut. Why? She discovered, no joke, that she was a year younger than she always thought she was.
Huh?
She knew her birthdate and even the year, and that she shares a birthday and year with US President Barack Obama. So far, so good.
But since arithmetic was never her strong suit, she thought she was, um, *32 instead of her actual age, *31.
*Numbers may vary, and could be on the metric scale.

When Duke of Hurl and Mucky Dip told her that she was really a year younger than she thought, at first she reacted with disbelief, then total Disneyesque joy — then ordered three more beers for herself to celebrate.
On the bright side, she figured it gave her financial portfolio an extra year to recover from the meltdown. The only downside was telling Husband Mark about the night they had sex when she thought she was 17 ... Oh, well.
BC ex-pat Whale Wanker continued his pathetic attempts to get a free beer without paying hash cash — for the third week in a row — by not running and just showing up afterward without his ratty shorts. Bobbin decided that Mr. Wanker should get a Hash Thingy and be forced to keep it till the alleged Lund hash gets off the ground in 2010.
Maybe by then, Whale Wanker will have sold his Calgary condo and will have to find something else to whine about.
Let us hope, and maybe even pray.
Another late arrival was Erudite, who entertained herself by giving herself a massage while grinding against a video slot machine. Hey, whatever gets you through the night.
Shack Shock was more than a little pumped about an upcoming meditation retreat to that centre of Eastern mysticism and thought, Waterloo-Kitchener, Ontario. It ain't exactly eastern India, but what the hey.
In a stunning development, Skewbic actually gave a little beer away — maybe for the first time ever. Then again, he gave it to Mucky, so he was probably just getting his hopes up.
Bobbin' decided not to appoint a choir, because after all the brilliant performances at the previous night's Juno Awards, anything else would simply pale in comparison.
He tried to convince Nickelback, aka Loverboy Light, that they should perform A Very Special Evening with Nickelback at the hash, but they wanted too many jugs of beer to perform. And Bobbin's personal fave, Celine Dion, had a previous engagement at the Saskatoon Holiday Inn Express, so she was unavailable.
So, bottom line, no choir.
After all his down-downs, Shutter Slut hoped he could sober up by Wednesday, so he could stagger to the airport and not end up on a flight to, say, American Samoa.
Bon voyage and all that. Turkey is that way.

On-On!

Duke of Hurl

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