Hares: Dreary and Mum
Where: Lighthouse Pub
Big Rock: no Romans were harmed during the consumption of this beer
All across Italy, hundreds of Julius Caesar impersonators stopped for a moment of pained silence, shaking their heads sadly. Some wept. In Southern California, a tear also trickled down the mummified remains of John Belushi.
What was causing all the angst and sadness? Had the Flames choked away another chance at an NHL playoff spot? Did Sucks Everything discover that he really wasn't Bill Gates' illegitimate son? Had Lay 'Em been banned from skiing for five years because of Unspeakable Acts on Castle Mountain?
Actually, it was for the tawdry, tacky, tasteless togas that Calgary hashers wore at the Ides of March run, co-hared by two of the main fashion offenders, Dreary and Mum.
Even by their lax sartorial standards, the venerable hash couple's attire was rather, um, ghastly, which raised the following questions:
Were they wearing a really tacky bedsheet? Or was it a ghastly shower curtain? Or possibly material left over from their latest disastrous tights collection?
Whatever it was, Mars — the god of fertility, vegetation and protection — was more than a little hacked off, to put it mildly. Belushi also was not terribly pleased, to say the least.
Who knew that Dreary could wear a toga that almost made his hideous tights look, uh, less offensive?
Anyway, hashers gathered on a lovely mid-March evening to attempt to follow a trail set by Dreary and Mum, who just ooze the whole fertility thing. Some found trail around Deer Run in SE Calgary, others didn't. But all managed to return to the Lighthouse Pub and Eatery without being struck dead by Mars or one of his more violent god buddies.
Back at the bar, Guest RA Crotch Rocket, er, Abandoned Pussy handed out down-downs while the Not Mormon Tabernacle Choir — Peeler, Master Beater and Duke of Hurl — sang un-hymns that were obvious to almost everyone, except Rubber Made.
Duke of Hurl
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