A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
A gorgeous morning dawned on the twenty-first day of September. Fall was just starting to think about coming to the Finger Lakes region, as the first hints of orange were creeping into the maples. Master Baster had plenty of time to reflect on the beauty of the day, as he was on trail to witness both the ebb of the lovely Saturday and the creeping fingers of Sunday dawn pull back the yawning darkness of night.
The first hints of sun alit upon his brow at about 6:15am, by his reckoning, but it was not until seven that the sun came up along the back ridgeline of Virgil Mountain. After several more hours of walking and r*nning amidst the arbored trails of Greek Peak, he was once again able to rest and enjoy the sweet taste of the golden nectar for which we all strive.
Feeling curiously rejuvenated by the previous night on foot and mere two hours’ sleep in the preceding evening, he feasted upon the many victuals available to him that day, anticipating the many hills yet to surmount for trail. And so he passed the next few hours, until trail was upon him again. Alighting from his abetting vehicle, he quickly realized his folly in packing light – virtually all members of the pack present were wearing skirts! Regretfully, his kilt remained well-hung in his closet at home.
Those assembled were indeed a motley-dressed crew – Just Bridgette, Just Brianne, TOFU, and Virgins Maggie and Dana were assembled, each with a gorgeously short skirt, befitting the theme of the day. Soon the hares pulled up, back from a very murky moment indeed. With Floss in his debonair camouflage kilt – so camo’d it even hid his floss, to the delight of harriettes everywhere – and J. Delana in her racy red skirt, the pack rejoiced at the sudden availability of liquid refreshment.
Soon the rest of the pack joined, with Poke Her Hienis, J. Jen, Porcelain Goddess, Hot Lips, and Virgin Albert rounding out the thirsty harriers. After a brief chalk talk for the newly-arrived, the pack was soon off checking out trail. Down Star Stanton road they wended, finding an evil back-check at the intersection. After much searching, true trail led north into the woods on the Finger Lakes Trail, and the hash was on! Sniffing trail eagerly, Hot Lips and Baster took off hungrily in search of beer. With a zen-like calm, they took turns discovering the way, uncannily negotiating the several Y’s and X’s as a skilled geneticist would easily assay a DNA sample.
With true trail but a path through tall grasses and over roots, it was but a few minutes before the elusive BN approached! Not two minutes later, the pack caught up and laid into the beer and packing-peanut-quality cheezy popcorn product, feeding hounds Shocker and Mindy as much of the food-like stuff as they themselves ate. After some time of Floss entertaining the pack with stories of Shocker’s elimination habits, the pack determined to set off to find more trail and nectar.
And so again it was, tracking along old logging roads, over moss, brambles, and roots on the northern edge of the forest. Soon enough, the pack caught up at the intersection of Star Stanton and Canaan Roads, unsure of where to go next. After an egregious set of false trails and back-checks, trail was discovered going down another old logging trail, passing by a fetid old stone water cistern. So as the pack laid into the ambrosia hidden nearby, so did Shocker laid into the stagnant mess, eager to share his miasmal gift with the repulsed pack assembled.
Chatter was lively, discovering that Virgin Albert had met Toothy Lunker back at an event that morning, learning that he spent his days crafting arcane electrical circuitry and jerry-rigging electronic switchgear from old computer and auto parts from deep in the bowels of the local salt mine. Rumors soon abounded that he rarely saw the light of day only twice a month and subsisted on a diet of vermin and lichen. Virgin Dana let on that her father was a veteran hasher in her native town of Atlanta, thus provoking many ribald hash-cest jokes. Her friend Virgin Maggie looked on with a touch of bemusement and mirth intermingled.
Soon enough, the pack grew restless. Shouldering the remains of the beer to burden their FRBing, Baster and Hot Lips took off towards the next hash rest, finding trail off logging roads and onto more groomed trail. Out of the woods and into the fields they went, finding a true hash treasure — the wily bobbit! Toothy Lunker emerged from trail to surprise the mpack, lamenting the poorly-marked checks and noremaindered hash rests to speak of!
Soon enough after, with liquid energy coursing through his veins, Baster encountered trail skirting the woods and through a field to encounter a long YBF, only to then have true trail backtrack and pass not twenty feet from the mark. Cursing his heretofor excellent trail-zen prowess, Baster resolved to continue blowing straight through false trails, learning that a Floss-false is rarely a false at all. Yet, this was to be his downfall, as not long after, he helped Virgin Albert, Just Bridgette and Just Brianne get rather sidetracked. Chastened, he called out after the crescendoing cries of the pack, hearing only the dulcet ‘ON-ON!’ of Toothy Lunker to guide them back. And so they returned from whence they came and found true trail, catching up to Goddess and the rest of the pack on the way back down Star Stanton to the on-in.
Sadly, Poker Heinis, Just Jen and Hot Lips begged their leave from the pack before circle, thus their departure was mourned by down-downs to follow. Among the many violations, Virgins Albert, Dana and Maggie were duly welcomed, noting, among other things, that their desired cartoon sexual partner would be Jessica Rabbit, Mickey Mouse and the prince from Beauty and the Beast would be their preferred partners. Virgin Albert joined Baster and Toothy in the circle for blatant r*cism, citing V. Albert’s unabashed wearing of a Boilermaker shirt, and the presence of Baster and Toothy at the event that prompted his presence that day.
After circle was concluded and the pack bade adieu, there is a curious story of Just Brianne, Just Bridgette and Butt Floss staying late into the evening, resulting in having to call for a ride back home from their husbands. As Floss’s ass was not thoroughly beaten, we can hopefully presume that such murky moments were above-board… but the author can not take such liberties with a hasher’s (dis)honor.
On-who-remembers-when-Goddess-actually-re-hashed-instead-of-pawning-it-off-on-some-unsuspecting-dupe,
~Master Baster