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Ah yes, Saturday is a hashing day. The sun was bright and the temp’s were around 60 degrees. It defiantly was a hashing day and Sir and Blow were laying trail in Mill Village.
As I read the flyer I saw that the hares challenge us wankers to complete their trail. Now anyone who has done a couple of hashes knows that each hare has his or her own style. Knowing Sir and Blow, I rationalized that this would be more than a challenge hash; it would be a hash of contradictions! Oh how right I was…
And so I drove south to the charming village along French Creek. Pulling in the parking lot I saw Sir standing by his convertible, soaked with mud from the waist down. Not a good sign! I strode over to greet our hare, he was in the process of stripping off the swamp stank, and I was greeted with his bare ass. Defiantly not a good sight! Deciding that I need a drink I headed to the bar only to be intercepted by A.Y.T? and Snail on a Rail pulling in. A.Y.T? was very exited about something and jumped out of his truck. He called Sir and I over telling us that he had something to show us. Sure enough, as soon as we got close enough, he dropped his trousers and mooned us. Defiantly not a good sight!
Ah yes, Saturday is a hashing day and the bright sunshine was bringing out the best in hashers.
I quickly stepped into Jeff’s Mill Village Tavern and ordered a 7 & 7 from the barmaid. I needed something stronger that a beer to wipe the images of Sir and A.Y.T?’s bare asses from my memory. Inside were YTBN John and a red headed virgin that Blow had brought (kidnapped) from Corry. While John and virgin Gale shared a beer, Dinky and Shortze join us. Soon Snail, A.Y.T? HO, Soggy Box, Tender Vittles were all quenching their thirsts. While we swapped stories and beers a group of Harleys pulled in. Their owners joined us at the bar. As I scanned the bar, I couldn’t help but notice a tall leggy blonde wearing a pair of black leather chaps. The skintight chaps perfectly framed her fantastic butt. Ah yes, leather is a wonderful thing. After seeing both Sir and A.Y.T.’s hairy asses, this was a wonderful contradiction! But before I could make a fool of myself and/or get the snot beat out of me, we were out the door…
Both hares lined us up and showed us the marks used for the day, including a new “double X”, for a double false. After brief introductions of Virgin Gale, we were off.
Quickly we ran into the first check on the railroad tracks. Soon the real trail lead us down the tracks and quickly into the first of the “double checks”. The pack split up right and left. Inside the woods we found several trails all leading to the “F”. Back on trail we eventfully found the “NB”. Tucked into the side of the road we found our hares sitting beside the hash convertible. Beer and cookies for everyone. While we stood around soaking up the sunshine, there remained a pile of snow next to the road. A reminder that the snow gods had taken a big squat on us less than a week before. Yet another contradiction…
Surrounding us were acres of bare cornfields and we could see for a very long ways. The hare’s sent us off down the road. Soon we came upon another check at the next intersection. Shortze and I took the left and the remainder went right. As Shortze and I hoofed it down the dirt road I could see the hash convertible and our hares across the cornfield lounging in the sun. We found only a couple of dollops of flour but no “F”. Continuing down the lane we looked for marks. I couldn’t help but notice that the hares were still parked, watching us from 250 yards away. Not being (much of a) fool, I mentioned to Shortze that something must be up. They were waiting for us to turn around a join the remainder of the pack. Not seeing anything but dirt we turned back and rejoined the pack now ¼ mile behind us. They were hung up on another “double check” without any correct path obvious. The only conclusion could be to turn back the way Shortze and I had cum from. Trotting back down the road we crested a small rise to see the hash convertible pulled over as the hares frantically threw out fresh flour right in the area that Shortze and I had scouted. The bastards were live haring from the luxury of the convertible. The chase was on. Soggy, YTBN John, Shortze and I trotted after the hares. After another mile of roadwork we came to another intersection and another check. John went left and the rest of us went right. The correct trail was of course left. Backtracking we joined John, crossed the road and scooted down another dirt road. Cresting a small rise I could see HO doing something in the middle of the road. True to her mischievous nature she had sculpted a cock and balls out of snow and left them as an indication of “beer near”. HO was also laying in ambush with a pile of snowballs, which she was largely ineffective with! Nerveless beer was near. At this point HO rejoined us and treated us to a wet t-shirt exhibition. Feeling left out, A.Y.T? poured a gallon of water upon his shirt and demanded equal time. Yet another contradiction that we wood rather not repeat…
As I read the flyer I saw that the hares challenge us wankers to complete their trail. Now anyone who has done a couple of hashes knows that each hare has his or her own style. Knowing Sir and Blow, I rationalized that this would be more than a challenge hash; it would be a hash of contradictions! Oh how right I was…
And so I drove south to the charming village along French Creek. Pulling in the parking lot I saw Sir standing by his convertible, soaked with mud from the waist down. Not a good sign! I strode over to greet our hare, he was in the process of stripping off the swamp stank, and I was greeted with his bare ass. Defiantly not a good sight! Deciding that I need a drink I headed to the bar only to be intercepted by A.Y.T? and Snail on a Rail pulling in. A.Y.T? was very exited about something and jumped out of his truck. He called Sir and I over telling us that he had something to show us. Sure enough, as soon as we got close enough, he dropped his trousers and mooned us. Defiantly not a good sight!
Ah yes, Saturday is a hashing day and the bright sunshine was bringing out the best in hashers.
I quickly stepped into Jeff’s Mill Village Tavern and ordered a 7 & 7 from the barmaid. I needed something stronger that a beer to wipe the images of Sir and A.Y.T?’s bare asses from my memory. Inside were YTBN John and a red headed virgin that Blow had brought (kidnapped) from Corry. While John and virgin Gale shared a beer, Dinky and Shortze join us. Soon Snail, A.Y.T? HO, Soggy Box, Tender Vittles were all quenching their thirsts. While we swapped stories and beers a group of Harleys pulled in. Their owners joined us at the bar. As I scanned the bar, I couldn’t help but notice a tall leggy blonde wearing a pair of black leather chaps. The skintight chaps perfectly framed her fantastic butt. Ah yes, leather is a wonderful thing. After seeing both Sir and A.Y.T.’s hairy asses, this was a wonderful contradiction! But before I could make a fool of myself and/or get the snot beat out of me, we were out the door…
Both hares lined us up and showed us the marks used for the day, including a new “double X”, for a double false. After brief introductions of Virgin Gale, we were off.
Quickly we ran into the first check on the railroad tracks. Soon the real trail lead us down the tracks and quickly into the first of the “double checks”. The pack split up right and left. Inside the woods we found several trails all leading to the “F”. Back on trail we eventfully found the “NB”. Tucked into the side of the road we found our hares sitting beside the hash convertible. Beer and cookies for everyone. While we stood around soaking up the sunshine, there remained a pile of snow next to the road. A reminder that the snow gods had taken a big squat on us less than a week before. Yet another contradiction…
Surrounding us were acres of bare cornfields and we could see for a very long ways. The hare’s sent us off down the road. Soon we came upon another check at the next intersection. Shortze and I took the left and the remainder went right. As Shortze and I hoofed it down the dirt road I could see the hash convertible and our hares across the cornfield lounging in the sun. We found only a couple of dollops of flour but no “F”. Continuing down the lane we looked for marks. I couldn’t help but notice that the hares were still parked, watching us from 250 yards away. Not being (much of a) fool, I mentioned to Shortze that something must be up. They were waiting for us to turn around a join the remainder of the pack. Not seeing anything but dirt we turned back and rejoined the pack now ¼ mile behind us. They were hung up on another “double check” without any correct path obvious. The only conclusion could be to turn back the way Shortze and I had cum from. Trotting back down the road we crested a small rise to see the hash convertible pulled over as the hares frantically threw out fresh flour right in the area that Shortze and I had scouted. The bastards were live haring from the luxury of the convertible. The chase was on. Soggy, YTBN John, Shortze and I trotted after the hares. After another mile of roadwork we came to another intersection and another check. John went left and the rest of us went right. The correct trail was of course left. Backtracking we joined John, crossed the road and scooted down another dirt road. Cresting a small rise I could see HO doing something in the middle of the road. True to her mischievous nature she had sculpted a cock and balls out of snow and left them as an indication of “beer near”. HO was also laying in ambush with a pile of snowballs, which she was largely ineffective with! Nerveless beer was near. At this point HO rejoined us and treated us to a wet t-shirt exhibition. Feeling left out, A.Y.T? poured a gallon of water upon his shirt and demanded equal time. Yet another contradiction that we wood rather not repeat…
April 9th 2005 Challenge Hash
After a brief respite we were off on the next leg. We only traveled down the road a couple of minutes when we found an arrow directing us into the swamp bordering the road. Up till now virgin Gale was having a good time. Seeing what was next, her mood changed. Seems that Blow neglected to tell her to bring a change of clothes. Blow also neglected to assure any personal supervision of his virgin. Now she left the safety of the road and plunged into the dank swamp. Not to be a slacker she soldiered on. Despite not having been briefed on just what to expect, virgin Gale did her best to stay with the pack. At this point Soggy and I took the virgin under our wings to ensure her safety. While she warmed up quickly to Soggy, she seemed to be wary of a guy named Swings both Ways. Go figure, yet another contradiction…
Hopping from high spot to stump to anything dry, we ventured into the dark and mucky swamp. While we managed to remain on trail, we lost contact with the rest of the pack. Meanwhile Gale became obsessed with the possibility of a snake jumping up and biting her in the ass. I moved ahead to scout the best way through the dense shiggy and Soggy moved up to help the virgin. Due to the dense crap, I lost contact with them. After a bit I paused to let them join back up. The two girls sauntered up all smiles. The virgin Gale gushed that in the darkness, Soggy had gotten her wet. Their smiles quickly faded when I explained our next move. Scouting ahead it became clear that the only tracks on trail were the hare’s. Earlier it was easy to follow the path created by the pack, Dinky cuts quite a wide swath through the shiggy. Somehow we had managed to loose that security inside the dank swamp. The trail threaded its way through the center of a muck filled valley. It was now clear that the pack had gone to the safety of the high ground opposite of us. By paralleling the ribbons they could remain somewhat dry and make good time. We however were on the low side and out of options. I had found a rather shallow place to ford the muck and gain the high ground. Leading the way across, the girls followed. Having only gone a dozen steps I suddenly plunged waist deep into the frigid mud and swamp water. I turned to warn Soggy but too late, she was thigh deep and stuck. I tried to call out to Gale butt realized that I was stricken with R.A.B.S. What is R.A.B.S. you may ask? Well its affects only the male population. Rapidly Asscending Ball Syndrome happens when a guy’s testicles rapidly snap up into his body cavity to avoid being frozen off. You see balls are not cold loving organs and will do anything to preserve their own survival. The plunge into the 40-degree swamp had caused my own jewels to snap up almost to my Adam’s apple. My cry of alarm came out sounding like a cross between a cat in heat and a schoolgirl-singing soprano. Needless to say we were forced to backtrack to dryer ground to reevaluate our options. I was concerned about leaches and made a quick body check. Unfortunetly what I thought was a leach attached to my groin turned out to be my pecker shriveled up to the size of a stick of Dentyne. Not good…
Out of options and fatiguing we were forced to cut cross-cuntry and find a hard pack road. After a short term of roadwork we arrived at the On In, having completely missed the last beer check. Soggy and I dropped off the dripping virgin Gale and attempted to catch the rest of the pack and make the last beer check. We found where the herd had cum out of the shiggy. Their wet footprints, clods of mud and swamp weeds all pointed us to the local cemetery. We found where the hash car had parked and the crew swizzle beer, but there was none left for us slackers. We continued to follow flour around the block and returned to the On In. Inside the hash was just starting to chow down a well-earned feast. The Hares had laid out a buffet that include charbroiled sirloin steaks, shrimp and veggies on skewers, scalloped taters, assorted veggies including soybeans (who the hell eats soybeans???), and carrot cake. Oh yeah beer too! As we munched, Blow acting as the R.A. started the down downs. There were many, mostly awarded to the hares for one reason or another, real or imagined. All had a good time and even the virgin Gale said she wood be back. Meanwhile more motorcycle riders entered the bar. They keep glancing over at the “weirdo’s” in the corner signing odd songs and tossing back beers. I glanced around for the leggy blonde in the beautiful leather chaps. In-between the throng of body’s at the bar I spied a fringed leg. Moving to get a better view, I followed the leather bound leg up to its source. Instead of the cute blonde, the leg’s owner was a very hairy and not too good-looking guy. Yikes! Yet another contradiction…
Yes Saturday is a hashing day. And this day was indeed a day of contradictions.
We had roadwork, we had train tracks, we had swamps, we had shiggy, and we had a cemetery. From one extreme to another we hashed and swilled beer. And we enjoyed the day. It was good and if you missed it, you indeed missed a hell of a hash!
That’s the way I remember it and cause NO ONE else will write these damn things, that’s the way it was.
On On
I am Swings Both Ways
Hopping from high spot to stump to anything dry, we ventured into the dark and mucky swamp. While we managed to remain on trail, we lost contact with the rest of the pack. Meanwhile Gale became obsessed with the possibility of a snake jumping up and biting her in the ass. I moved ahead to scout the best way through the dense shiggy and Soggy moved up to help the virgin. Due to the dense crap, I lost contact with them. After a bit I paused to let them join back up. The two girls sauntered up all smiles. The virgin Gale gushed that in the darkness, Soggy had gotten her wet. Their smiles quickly faded when I explained our next move. Scouting ahead it became clear that the only tracks on trail were the hare’s. Earlier it was easy to follow the path created by the pack, Dinky cuts quite a wide swath through the shiggy. Somehow we had managed to loose that security inside the dank swamp. The trail threaded its way through the center of a muck filled valley. It was now clear that the pack had gone to the safety of the high ground opposite of us. By paralleling the ribbons they could remain somewhat dry and make good time. We however were on the low side and out of options. I had found a rather shallow place to ford the muck and gain the high ground. Leading the way across, the girls followed. Having only gone a dozen steps I suddenly plunged waist deep into the frigid mud and swamp water. I turned to warn Soggy but too late, she was thigh deep and stuck. I tried to call out to Gale butt realized that I was stricken with R.A.B.S. What is R.A.B.S. you may ask? Well its affects only the male population. Rapidly Asscending Ball Syndrome happens when a guy’s testicles rapidly snap up into his body cavity to avoid being frozen off. You see balls are not cold loving organs and will do anything to preserve their own survival. The plunge into the 40-degree swamp had caused my own jewels to snap up almost to my Adam’s apple. My cry of alarm came out sounding like a cross between a cat in heat and a schoolgirl-singing soprano. Needless to say we were forced to backtrack to dryer ground to reevaluate our options. I was concerned about leaches and made a quick body check. Unfortunetly what I thought was a leach attached to my groin turned out to be my pecker shriveled up to the size of a stick of Dentyne. Not good…
Out of options and fatiguing we were forced to cut cross-cuntry and find a hard pack road. After a short term of roadwork we arrived at the On In, having completely missed the last beer check. Soggy and I dropped off the dripping virgin Gale and attempted to catch the rest of the pack and make the last beer check. We found where the herd had cum out of the shiggy. Their wet footprints, clods of mud and swamp weeds all pointed us to the local cemetery. We found where the hash car had parked and the crew swizzle beer, but there was none left for us slackers. We continued to follow flour around the block and returned to the On In. Inside the hash was just starting to chow down a well-earned feast. The Hares had laid out a buffet that include charbroiled sirloin steaks, shrimp and veggies on skewers, scalloped taters, assorted veggies including soybeans (who the hell eats soybeans???), and carrot cake. Oh yeah beer too! As we munched, Blow acting as the R.A. started the down downs. There were many, mostly awarded to the hares for one reason or another, real or imagined. All had a good time and even the virgin Gale said she wood be back. Meanwhile more motorcycle riders entered the bar. They keep glancing over at the “weirdo’s” in the corner signing odd songs and tossing back beers. I glanced around for the leggy blonde in the beautiful leather chaps. In-between the throng of body’s at the bar I spied a fringed leg. Moving to get a better view, I followed the leather bound leg up to its source. Instead of the cute blonde, the leg’s owner was a very hairy and not too good-looking guy. Yikes! Yet another contradiction…
Yes Saturday is a hashing day. And this day was indeed a day of contradictions.
We had roadwork, we had train tracks, we had swamps, we had shiggy, and we had a cemetery. From one extreme to another we hashed and swilled beer. And we enjoyed the day. It was good and if you missed it, you indeed missed a hell of a hash!
That’s the way I remember it and cause NO ONE else will write these damn things, that’s the way it was.
On On
I am Swings Both Ways