New Years is all about traditions. And so it was with the Eerie Hash. In my latest attempt to kill off the Eerie Hash, I opted to throw flour and live hare once again for the first trail of the year. I issued the challenge to cum catch my hairy ass fully expecting to gather 3 or 4 hounds. The site for this folly wood be one of our favourite swill holes: The Chestnut Street Pub. A side note; for years this establishment was know by the endearing nickname of “The Chub”. It wood seem they have little regard for tradition and have adopted the somewhat lame moniker of “The Nut” What The Fuck?

Anyway's, I scouted a trail and bought some cheap beer. I set the meet n greet time for 1:37 with chalk talk for 2:03. Imagine my shock when I swung around the corner and found 7 hashers at the Chub, err Nut at little past 1 PM! Two of them were HO and Sir Licks A Lot (who are always working off a different time zone). Also swilling beer were Sgt Stumble (who hasn’t hashed in freak’n forever), Tender Vittles, Shitface Shuttle, Cumz Alone and Rhino Balls. Damn they were a half hour early. And they weren’t wearing jeans and clodhoppers, they were wearing wind pants and r*nning shoes.

You see, with a live hare trail, one of the pack’s objectives is to catch my ass and make me sit on ice. In the last 3 years they have done it twice. Both times they got me sooooo freak’n drunk that a (different) bimbo has had to take me home each time. And I don’t have to tell you how that worked out….

Now I was staring to sweat and it wasn’t due to the warmth of friendship in the bar. Next came in Schlabotnik The Russian Sausage Mullet and the vivacious Beer Tool. He had sweats and r*nning shoes on too. Snail On A Rail and Tampon of the Opera both brought the girls out to play followed by Loves A Lube Job. Not only was Lubey dressed to pursue but she was sporting a single Yak Trax on her shoe (normally these DO come in pairs but that is another story) Anyways I have always considered these to be my secret weapons in escaping the pack as they provide a ton of traction in the ice and snow….
Now enter Pinch A Loaf and Soggy Box. Both in wind pants and r*nning shoes.

I am in trouble.

I fully feared that Big Gulp and Breed A Bull wood join the pack in it’s attempt to r*n me into the ground. But they didn’t show…whew. (Where were they? The Steelers weren’t playing today.)

I bought one last picture of brew to stall the hounds long enough to make my get away and off I went.  Chugging west then north I looped around the Sigsbee Reservoir and then back north to The Erie Cemetery. Now this is cemetery is 75 acres big and is completely surrounded by an iron fence. With one gate, there was only one way in and one way out. My objective was to gather the entire pack inside the confines of the cemetery before making my escape. I discreetly laid my trail around the northern half of the cemetery and then worked my way to the high ground to the south. From this vantage point I could overlook the pack as they wormed their way around the Sigsbee Reservoir. After that I snuck back to the entrance and hid within the alcove of a mausoleum. I counted heads (head – who said head!) as they passed within 25 feet of me. HO, TV and Snail were the DFL’s and I could hear the hounds working their way around the high ground on on the south side. All of the sudden a huge flock of crows flew out of the large oak trees on on the hillside. Apparently they didn’t much appreciate the hounds calling “ON ON” below them. There musta have been four dozen of the black birds flapping around. Isn’t that some kinda bad sign? Crows in a graveyard. Kinda like something outa Alfred Hitchcock movie. An omen…maybe I will indeed kill this freak’n hash.
Amidst all this cummotion I realize that I hadn’t seen Sir enter the cemetery. Crap. Was he lurking outside the gate awaiting me? He grew up in this area and wood know that there was only one entrance. I peeked around the corner, up and down Chestnut Street but no Sir in sight. I scooted out and turned south planning on on returning to the Chub umm “The Nut” for my first beer stop. My timing was off though. Pinchy spotted me and turned as if he was going to jump the high wrought iron fence. Crap.

I made a quick dash around St Vincent Hospital in an attempt to break off contact but Pinch was in pursuit. Even though I had a couple of block lead I took no chances and beat feet back to the Chub…the Nut.  I dropped a chalk “B” and awaited the pack. I was soaked with sweat. In came Pinch followed by Schlabotnik. One by one all the pack showed up except Sir. Sir had gone rouge. Later I found out Sir had tried to anticipate my trail and was at several watering holes. He did find true trail later on on after hydrating at each establishment.

Inside the Chub…. The Nut, I found Beer Tool holding down the fort. The poor bimbo had some chest… I mean she had some chest congestion that prevents her from sucking in the cold air. So she volunteered to drive my beer wagon on on the later stages of trail. Sitting with Beer Tool was Virgin Cockstalker and her Virgin daughter Elis. Seems they were traveling from Cleveland and stopped in to play. I ordered a couple of pictures of brew as the hounds compared notes on on the trail so far.

Once again it was hare away and I was headed (head – who said head?) east this time. Zigging back and forth I even found a little city shiggy to work through. Getting confident I was poking my way to the next beer stop when I spotted a black clad figure r*nning my back trail. Shit – its Loves A Lube Job only 150 yards back. Once again I churn feet and make it to the secluded parking lot that would serve as our beer stop. The pack arrives from several directions. Schlabotnik came in from the wrong erection. I thought he auto hashed and disregarded him. He could have tagged me but declined. I guess he had seen my hairy ass one to many times before. Sgt Stumble had auto hashed over and picked up several more way laid hounds. Some beer and chips. Activity behind the dumpster. A neighbor peeked over the fence to see what the cummotion was. Lube’s teeth start to chatter and so I am off again. This is a short leg, a half of a mile or so. I get no mercy and the pack gives me a 200-yard head (head – who said head?) start. It’s a quick sprint to Uptown Browns and Soggy is FRB.

Pinch starts down downs with some help from Schlabotnik. Sir and Rhino look fetching in their black thongs. So do HO and Lubey. We do a body search on Tampon looking for any black appeal at all. We entertained the local with our songs. Several hounds debated whether the bar wench was sporting factory original or after market boobies. We drank and ate pizza.

All in all it was a good day for a hash. A good turn out. I didn’t get caught. Didn’t have to sit on ice. Didn’t get crushed and have to have a bimbo take me home….
Wait – maybe I screwed up there. Oh well. Shit hash.

Swings Both Ways