Saturday is a hashing day. Sooooo despite the shitty weather forecast, I picked up Unsolicited Sex and headed south to the armpit of hashing, CORRY PA. It would
seem that poor Sex had gotten only 4 hours of sleep the nite before. And yet the
hasher was not to be denied a hashing day.  We kinda felt like the postman, neither
drifting snow nor white out conditions or freezing wind chills were going to deter our
pursuit of beer. As I wheeled the hash mobile into the parking lot of the Chateau,
east of Corry, I caught site of the hares doing donuts in the slippery ice covered
parking lot. It would seem that Crazze Pong Bitch and Mouth Full of Meat figured
spinning their Assteck round and round the parking lot wood clean off the new fallen
snow easier then a snowplow. While the bimbos giggled in glee, I caught sight of
Tits N Giggles holding on for dear life in the back of the Assteck trying to prevent the
canned brews from flying about. Yep that wanker had his priorities straight!

Soon the hashers started to slide into the icy parking lot. Sir & HO, Virgin Cockstalke
& Jalapenis parked their Assteck, Cumminme did his good deed and brought Ménage
Blow, Soggy and Pinchy showed up in yet another Assteck (what’s with all the
Assteck in da hash?) with Pet Her Peter riding in the back. Last but not least
YTBN Peter drove all the way from Allegheny College to do another trail.

So there we stood around in the parking lot (oh wait, I didn’t mention that the
Chateau didn’t open till 5PM) ….so there we stood around freezing in the parking lot.
The temps were somewhat well below “Nippely” and the wind cut right through the
multiple layers of apparel I had donned. There was talk of what could or wood happen
if the beer froze on trail…the snow continued to fall and the wind whipped across the
frozen wastelands of Corry. It was cold. So anyways as I scanned the assembled half
minds, I noticed that YTBN Peter was dressed in r*nning pants and a fleece top. That
was roughly ¼ of what I had on…damn it was cold out too. Butt before anymore
whine’n could be issued forth, the Hares called chalk talk and we were off.

The FRB’s flew away with a rooster tail of snow billowing around them. Due to the
extreme icy’ ness of the frozen tundra, I choose to walk along with the back of the
pack. We had only gone 500 yards and we spotted TAG and Cumminme splitting off
from trail and scooting down a side street. Perhaps they had inside knowledge? Ahead Pinchy, Soggy, YTBN Peter, Sir and Pet Her Peter zigzagged on the icy trail. Making
a right turn we spotted Pet Her Peter laying on her back in the middle of the road.
At first we thought she was waiting for some wanker to hop on top of her to share
body heat. Then we thought she was making impromptu snow angles. But as we
closed, it became apparent that she was indeed in great pain. It would seem that as
PHP sprinted after Pinchy she slipped on the polished surface of the frozen tundra.
The result of the fall caused her to break her leg. SHIT! HASHER DOWN DOWN!!!
Jalapenis flew back to retrieve an Assteck while we attempted to comfort the poor
bimbo. In an attempt to aid her, I offered to do Mouth-to-Mouth or Basic Breast
Massage. HO promised the injured hasher that we wood treat her better than they
do with horses when they break a leg. What the hell is it with Corry Bimbo’s and
breaking legs? If you recall, Cum Chubby Cum broke her leg at Halloweenie a couple
of years ago. Broken legs and missing digits, damn Corry hashers.  By then Jalapenis
slid up and we loaded the bimbo into the Assteck. With Pet Her Peter and Jalapenis
off to the Corry Hospital & Veterinary Clinic, we continued on trail. In due time we
found the first B – and the Columbus Inn.

Inside the warmth of the Columbus Inn the rest of the pack was rehydrating and
rewarming frozen digits…all of us except Ménage Blow who is already missing a couple
digits. Many conversations ensured. We bullshitted about hashes past, trails to do our upcumming events, women we’ve dated, men we’ve hated, dogs we’ve luved (shit-
this is starting to sound like a cuntry western song). Anyways we ran out of beer and
left the warmth of the bar to follow more flour across the frozen wastelands. A left –
a right – across the highway – over the railroad tracks and into the blizzard we went.
The wind blew horizontal and we all lined up behind Sex, using him as a windbreak. At
one point the wind abated briefly and we saw a horse frozen in its stable…wrapped in Christmas lights. No shit. Only in Corry. However after closer inspection we found it to
be a large fiberglass replica of a quarter horse…wrapped in Christmas lights. Only in
Corry. Presently we saw a figure walking towards us out of the blizzard. It was Sir
walking back to find his HO, carry’n half frozen cans of beer for the back of the pack.
This B didn’t last too long as frostbite was now become’n a real possibility. Slogging
our way back home Cumminme and TAG drove up along side picking up frozen
wankers. It then dawned on me that they might have never even left the bar! Smart Bastards!!!! Some of the frigid wankers accepted rides. Some maintained to be true
to trail. At one point I turned around and saw Sex and Virgin Cockstalker desperately
trying to lite a cigarette in the gale force wind. And then they were lost from view in
the white out….

As the pack found it’s way back to the On In, Jalapenis and Pet Her Peter returned
from the Corry Hospital and Veternary clinic. Once we gained entrance into the warmth
of the bar, we took turns write’n good stuff on her temporary cast. It was observed
that due to her injury, Pet Her Peter might have a tough time getting undressed after
the hash. There were several offers from the assembled half minds to assist in
undressing the helpless bimbo, but you’ll have to actually talk with her about that.
Anyways while we waited for the bar to get some beers for us (whacha mean, the
draft system isn’t working????) we played darts on on a dartboard that deducted
points before you threw a dart. Sir tried to teach the hashers a new pool game. HO
and I played a pool game whose object is to see who can sink the least amount of
balls. And then Pinchy started down downs:

Hares – Crazee Pong Bitch and Mouth Full of Meat
FRB – YTBN Peter and Pinchy (and when one Peter drinks all Peters drink)
DFL – Unsolicited Sex and Virgin Cockstalker
Auto hashers – Pet Her Peter, Jalapenis, TAG, Cuminme, HO, Blow
Backsliders – Everyone but Sir, HO, Virgin Cockstalker and Swings
Talking bout R*nning R*ces – YTBN Peter and Swings (and when one Peter drinks…)
Underdressed – YTBN Peter (and when one Peter drinks…)
Broken Bones on trail – Pet Her Peter (and when one Peter drinks…)
Aiding Bimbo’s in Distress – Jalapenis
Some lame assed accusation about knowing too much – Swings
Getting “lost” while doing extra curricular activates – Soggy and Pinchy

And then we ate. If you missed it, You suck.
That’s the way I remember it. You should have been there. We were!

Postscript: After most of the half minds had left, The DJ and his lady friend came into
the bar to set up. Pinchy started to help them bring in their shit. And then I saw
why…and I shit you not! The DJ  was missing digits on his one hand. What the
hell is it about Corry?

I am Swings Both Ways

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