A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
The pack was all assembled one chilly wintry day
upon the hills of Virgil the pack would roam and stray.
Brave Butt Floss showed up early with an Inky and PG
And with their rugged chariot scouted trail for you and me.
You see, they didn’t quite know where and when the trail would start
and so they drove a half-mile down a slipp’ry road — not smart.
And soon Head and J. Jared came, then Climbin’ and Steady Head,
Gets Off Easy ended her erstwhile ways and came back as if from the dead
Soon yours truly arrived and bore witness to the hare
Finishing up what looked like trail with St. Dick’s level of care.
And so having received the marks for the day, looking somewhat different than usual but still easy to follow (Difficult & Easy trails) the pack set off. We soon set into the woods, and were promptly circle-jerked back to the start, but not before grinding some shiggy into our pants. Inky particularly enjoyed this part, being clad for the occasion in a sweatshirt, his usual camo shorts with broken zipper, and cotton socks.
Down the road we went, the trail having been previously scouted by Flossil and crew, so we knew we’d at least be safe until the bottom. After negotiating a quick Y-split at the bottom, the trail split into Difficult and Easy options. The E trail went through the woods along a streambed, while D led up Odell Rd. to the intersection of Baldwin Rd. (where yours truly was provided a Kickstand-beer once long ago), before dropping down into the Finger Lakes trail. After bopping down a slippery slope, over a stream, and through an evergreen sapling forest, we found the lazy slackers who had discovered BEER!, which had been secreted into the woods by the wily St. Dick on trail.
It was at this point that PG brought up the value of dead puppies (or lack thereof), but the details are lost to the ages. After beer, it was up to us to determine what-next. Trail soon led up a l-o-o-o-o-o-ng hill, only to find an X at the tippy-top. However, the hare’s tracks were seen leading into the woods, and so he was chased, and snowbound we were. However, the hare disappeared, and the pack was left to fend for itself. Sticking together, with a couple scouts to seek out true trail, the explorers ventured deeper into the woods.
Second BN was discovered hanging from a tree, with but a few beers left over from 1st BN, and it went quickly. It was at this point that the trail took a turn for the hilly, and the pack climbed two mountains, and clumb and clumb and clumbed some more. There was absolutely no whining on trail, I can tell you that. At one point, an abandoned fridge was discovered at the top of the hill, but sadly there was no BN to be found.
Down we went, down the far side of Virgil Mountain, and heard a holler in the distance. The pack noted a Deer Near — a hipbone hanging from a tree. Down we went and crossed a road to find… Kickstand! Kickstand and an enormous snow penis. It was mighty indeed, almost as tall as St. Dick, and looked to be about a week old. St. Dick was commended for not only hiding a chest full of beer, but properly labeling it as property of the Hash. Much refreshment ensued and laughter over the artwork.
At this point the trail took a turn for the Difficult. Gets Off Easy, seeking some exercise, took off without remark, and having realized what had happened, St. Dick took off after her. While the rest of us made it back to the cars without incident, the pack nevertheless grew more and more worried as the Murky Moment Brigade failed to return. A search party was sent out to no avail. Finally, after a good half hour, the two overachievers materialized, no worse for wear, only slightly frozen, and happy to get back to the cars.
Circle was brought underway, with St. Dick providing not only a table and snacks, but a full smorgasbord of club sandwiches for the hungry hungry hashers! Down-downs ensued for the hare, the sh*tty trail, and the feast. Floss, PG and Inky drank for premature e-checkulation. For overachievement on trail, for exceptional dexterity with a zipper, for borrowing the hare’s gloves and Floss’ vest, and for being lost in the woods for what seemed like hours, Gets Off Easy was awarded a down-down and a token — a necklace with her name on it, that she may go forward into the world with a way to remind folks of her identity, even though perhaps it should be “Gets Off Difficult.” Kickstand drank for the bobbit and for participating in r*cist activities, which pretty much everyone joined it for.
…And so, with the night setting in and the pack growing cold, we buggered off.
Thanks again to St. Dick for a remarkable Hash return to Virgil. It’s been too long, and it was too long, and it was good. And there was much rejoicing.
On-snowy-Monkey-hash-on,
~MB