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As I sped down I-79 following the vague erections to the meeting place, I had a feeling that this was gonna be a great hash day. Because I used to date a blonde that frequented a local bar I was intimately familiar with the area and easily found the right location. As I pulled into the driveway, our haress Chemical Whorefare, came jogging down the driveway in a tight sweater. Yes it was gonna be a great hash day. While her intention was to lay out a flour marker to show the way, her effect on passing traffic was immediate. Cars slowed to a crawl and I actually saw some poor guy get crowned with his wife’s purse for rubber necking in Chemmie’s direction. While Chemmie cuntinued to put a smile on passing motorist faces, I walked over to find Dick Traci unloading a keg from his SUV. I commented that it seemed unusual to be outside of Edinboro for homecumming. Dick confessed that we were lucky to be having a hash at all. It seems that this was the first time all weekend that he wasn’t drunk and that Chemmie and our hosts, George and Jenna, had laid the entire trail. Our hosts owned a large horse farm complete with barn, tractors, trucks and horse trailers. Inside the barn was a complete collection of power tools including a Stihl chainsaw with a 36” bar. Hashers and power tools and beer…. hmmm. I had visions of drunken naked chainsaw juggling around the fire. Fortunately for us our host had secured all the really dangerous stuff high above on a shelf. By now hashers were pouring in. Sir and Ho, Chocolate Starfish and Miss Libertitties, Gayhab and Fuck Swallow Hurl, Shitface Shuttle, YTBN Scott, Just Matt (Who didn’t bring his large breasted girl friend with him this year), Special Agent Cockblock and Just Karle, Izzy Gay, Baby Gravy Socks and Just Julie, Abused Halter Boy and Wooden Eye all pulled in and paid up. Some of the crew even dressed in Scottish wear. Sir and Ho, Just Scott and Wooden Eye all arrived wearing kilts.
While we waited for Tampon of the Opera, we heard the whine of a Buccardi motorcycle down shifting. Yep it was Scab Ass Rising, complete in black leather and spandex. Yes it was gonna be a great hash day! As Scabby, riding Shitcloggers bike, turned into the driveway the front wheel kicked out in the loose gravel. Scabby laid the bike down but was caught underneath the bike. Being a trained first responder and seeing a “damsel in distress”, I immediately sprinted to her aid. I prepared to initiate mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and breast massage, err I mean chest compressions. Looking into the victim’s full-face helmet I could see her mouthing something. Things were happening in slow motion now. After a second it became clear to me that she was saying “lift the fucking bike off my leg and get off me asshole!” After righting the bike and dusting her self off, Scabby thanked me for my valour and rode the bike the rest of the way into the parking lot. Oh well, I tried!
By now it was time to load up, literally! George hooked up a horse trailer to his big ol four-wheel drive and wheeled it around front. With typical hasher gusto for doing things that “seemed like a good idea at the time”, we piled in. Right then Tampon drove in and announced that she was auto hashing. Seeing as Jenna and Chemmie had already saddled up onto a four-wheeler and bounced across the back pasture, she jumped into the cab of the pick up. Little did we know, that might have been the smartest move of the day. You see driving down a black top road in the back of horse trailer is real hasher fun, flying down a dirt road at 75 mph was not so much fun. All hasher chatter ceased as thick clouds of dust rooster tailed behind the trailer. The choking dust back drafted into the back of the trailer and coated the hapless hashers with fine coating of dust. White shirts turned grey, eyes burned and coughs erupted. Desperate, Sir tried to use one of Ho’s bra cups for an impromptu dusk mask. After an eternity in hasher time, we were deposited onto a dirt road and sent on our way.
Seeing as Dick didn’t lay a yard of trail, he decided to do trail. And we knew that he probably had inside information, so we followed Dick. We ran about a mile with out seeing a mark. Oh yeah it was gonna be a good hash day! Presently we found a check and split up. Finding trail we jumped off road and soon were at the first beer check. As we munched cookies and drank beer, someone asked where Tampon was. Seems George had taken her back to the farm and she was visiting with the horses and abusing Wooden Eye. Hmm! With the roadwork of the trail over, we headed (who said head?) into the deep woods and even deeper brush. Briars towered overhead (who said head?) and saw grass ripped our legs. Oh yeah, I forgot that Sir was still decked out in his kilt. At least the blood from his legs matched the red in his kilt. Sir bled so bad that those hashers behind him stopped following flour and started following his blood trail. We had to chase some archery hunter away. Seems he mistook Sir’s blood trail for that of a wounded deer, and started tracking Sir. Don’t worry about it Sir, we were just protecting our next GM!
Suddenly we burst out of the brush into an open field. There were our hares and BEER. As we sat in the warm sun drinking cool beer the stories started to flow. As we talked the conversation turned to last Homcumming Hash at Dick’s parent’s cottage in Edinboro. We all laughed at how drunk we had become on “rum and dummers”. It seems that there were a few pieces of business that had be neglected. Foremost was the fact that Jeff, an Edinboro grad and pal of Dick and Chemmie had been named “Baby Gravy Socks”, but had never done a down down to commemorated the occasion. That would be corrected! Miss Tits volunteered that she had been having sexually explicated dreams about certain hashers. Guess you should have been there for THAT conversation.
Now we were off to the on in. through the back pasture we ran. Quickly we were back to George and Jenna’s place. Tampon had an odd smile and Wooden Eye looked very dishevel ed. There were down down’s to all the usual subjects. There were ox roast sandwiches and beer for all. Oh yeah and we had a naming. It has come to be that YTBN Scott now has an official hash name. The choices were many and varied. They dealt with his line of work, his obsessions with details and his love for his proctologist. Use your imagination…
Anyway's for now and for all time Scott Huber will be know as Dick’s In My Ass.
Yes it was a great hash day!
That’s the way I remember it,
I am Swings both Ways.
While we waited for Tampon of the Opera, we heard the whine of a Buccardi motorcycle down shifting. Yep it was Scab Ass Rising, complete in black leather and spandex. Yes it was gonna be a great hash day! As Scabby, riding Shitcloggers bike, turned into the driveway the front wheel kicked out in the loose gravel. Scabby laid the bike down but was caught underneath the bike. Being a trained first responder and seeing a “damsel in distress”, I immediately sprinted to her aid. I prepared to initiate mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and breast massage, err I mean chest compressions. Looking into the victim’s full-face helmet I could see her mouthing something. Things were happening in slow motion now. After a second it became clear to me that she was saying “lift the fucking bike off my leg and get off me asshole!” After righting the bike and dusting her self off, Scabby thanked me for my valour and rode the bike the rest of the way into the parking lot. Oh well, I tried!
By now it was time to load up, literally! George hooked up a horse trailer to his big ol four-wheel drive and wheeled it around front. With typical hasher gusto for doing things that “seemed like a good idea at the time”, we piled in. Right then Tampon drove in and announced that she was auto hashing. Seeing as Jenna and Chemmie had already saddled up onto a four-wheeler and bounced across the back pasture, she jumped into the cab of the pick up. Little did we know, that might have been the smartest move of the day. You see driving down a black top road in the back of horse trailer is real hasher fun, flying down a dirt road at 75 mph was not so much fun. All hasher chatter ceased as thick clouds of dust rooster tailed behind the trailer. The choking dust back drafted into the back of the trailer and coated the hapless hashers with fine coating of dust. White shirts turned grey, eyes burned and coughs erupted. Desperate, Sir tried to use one of Ho’s bra cups for an impromptu dusk mask. After an eternity in hasher time, we were deposited onto a dirt road and sent on our way.
Seeing as Dick didn’t lay a yard of trail, he decided to do trail. And we knew that he probably had inside information, so we followed Dick. We ran about a mile with out seeing a mark. Oh yeah it was gonna be a good hash day! Presently we found a check and split up. Finding trail we jumped off road and soon were at the first beer check. As we munched cookies and drank beer, someone asked where Tampon was. Seems George had taken her back to the farm and she was visiting with the horses and abusing Wooden Eye. Hmm! With the roadwork of the trail over, we headed (who said head?) into the deep woods and even deeper brush. Briars towered overhead (who said head?) and saw grass ripped our legs. Oh yeah, I forgot that Sir was still decked out in his kilt. At least the blood from his legs matched the red in his kilt. Sir bled so bad that those hashers behind him stopped following flour and started following his blood trail. We had to chase some archery hunter away. Seems he mistook Sir’s blood trail for that of a wounded deer, and started tracking Sir. Don’t worry about it Sir, we were just protecting our next GM!
Suddenly we burst out of the brush into an open field. There were our hares and BEER. As we sat in the warm sun drinking cool beer the stories started to flow. As we talked the conversation turned to last Homcumming Hash at Dick’s parent’s cottage in Edinboro. We all laughed at how drunk we had become on “rum and dummers”. It seems that there were a few pieces of business that had be neglected. Foremost was the fact that Jeff, an Edinboro grad and pal of Dick and Chemmie had been named “Baby Gravy Socks”, but had never done a down down to commemorated the occasion. That would be corrected! Miss Tits volunteered that she had been having sexually explicated dreams about certain hashers. Guess you should have been there for THAT conversation.
Now we were off to the on in. through the back pasture we ran. Quickly we were back to George and Jenna’s place. Tampon had an odd smile and Wooden Eye looked very dishevel ed. There were down down’s to all the usual subjects. There were ox roast sandwiches and beer for all. Oh yeah and we had a naming. It has come to be that YTBN Scott now has an official hash name. The choices were many and varied. They dealt with his line of work, his obsessions with details and his love for his proctologist. Use your imagination…
Anyway's for now and for all time Scott Huber will be know as Dick’s In My Ass.
Yes it was a great hash day!
That’s the way I remember it,
I am Swings both Ways.
Octobeer 9th 2004 - 12th Anal Edinboro Homecumming Hash
