Exuberantly in Attendance :
Hares:
Master Baster
Porcelain Goddess
Hounds:
Inspector Speculum
Bedside Pole Dancer
Unidentified Feathered Orifice
Lil’ Dimmer
Always a Bridesmaid
Just Torrey
Country Cock
Just Dennis
Just Ursula
A Lager Runs Through Her
Nurse TaKillYa
Just Brianne
Hard Inside Her
Spike
Butt Floss
Pew
Welded Shut
Just Elaine
Virgins:
Virgin Peter
Actual Hounds :
Shocker / Safety Dog
Gracie
Victor
Hash Kids :
Just Kinsley
Just Hailey
It was a motley assembly of hashers, including many, many cum latelys. Butt Floss was busy either putting on his make-up or obsessing over his shiny, shiny head. Welded Shut, with family hashers Pew and Just Peter -up from Georgia for Cumencement, apparently went to the wrong Buttermilk. Floss showed-up a couple beers later. The rest magically appeared as far as this re-hasher is concerned, because the details conveyed to me regarding their appearance were kinda complicated.
Knowing nothing about the landmarks of this area, suffice it to say trail ensued I dunno, through some woods. There was a good bit of off-trail finding of trail … several back checks (bastards!) later we crossed some excellent, not disappointingly shiggy ground near Treman Lake. This was about the time many gave-up on having anything resembling dry sneakers (which, it turns out, was a moot point). It was around approximately the same time there was spotted a strange marking on yonder shore. “ON? Does that say on?”, “NO, it says NO” – “Wait, it says DN, WTF is DN?”.
“It’s a DEER NEAR!” PG gleefully announced, pointing-out the rotting carcass submerged below the water we were about to traverse. Mmm deer soup.
A little further down the lake, or whatever, trail went directly through and up a spring or a small drainage stream. Scrambling up some steep sedimentary rock, which of course was covered in moss and a deep layer of dead leaves, everybody is pulling somebody up, who is in return trying not to fall on the hasher behind them. It was steep enough that my own hash hound attempted to abandon ship all together and made to turn and run back down the hill, being caught by the nearest hasher and encouraged back up the hill. Shortly thereafter, UFO slid down the hill in spectacular fashion, eventually catching herself and similarly being assisted up the hill.
At what I will just assume was approximately the same time, Floss, Welded and the southern road whores were making their way up trail after a delayed start. Baster and Bedside had gone ahead. Or something. The road whore crew had some little difficulty on account of someone having forgotten amidst the entertainment to actually mark where trail went. (That Floss is a needy b*tch, ain’t he?) Bedside, meanwhile, managed to get herself immersed to the ta-tas in, what turned-out to be, mud akin to a cartoon-esque quicksand. In what must have been a combination of borderline horror and slapstick hilarity, she was rescued by Baster and Spike, who had heard cries of distress from on-trail.
The memory, it fails me … I spent a good amount of time r*nning near Bridesmaid and Just Kinsley, with the latter donning her super-awesome FRB shirt and entertaining many a hasher with the cutest “ON-ON!” one may hear …a short time later, LO! Another wondrous call … the call of BEER! Down another steep grade, to a nearby pool in the gorge for the first BN. It was at this point most of us got our first look at the aftermath of Bedside’s mud wrestling, and spent some splendid moments drinking cheap golden lager and enjoying the scene.
Since I waited too long to write the re-hash, and since Baster, smart ass type A that he is, basically half-re-hashed on the list-serv, I decided to defer to his account, interjected with my own smartass comments.
Alas, we weren’t able to fully continue trail. Right after you took off [you being Lil Dimmer, who’s a wank for leaving early and missing the fun]
, we had the most lovely cloudburst [f*cking DOWNPOUR, complete with a falling tree witnessed from a fairly close perspective by some hashers, while others ran for cover]
, which continued throughout the afternoon. The second BN was basically right down the road, though true trail wended its way along the banks of the creek to a little stop not far off the ford in the creek by the back parking lot. We met up with Torrey, Lager, and Cider, who wisely elected to shortcut the first beer check and hang out drinking most of the second one. [GENIUSES! I’m hanging with you guys next time.]
After a lively round of “Today is Monday!” the pack headed out, some [wanks]
choosing to follow trail up the embankment and over to the Bear Trail, while others [bigger wanks]
chose to walk back along the east side of Treman Lake. Though true trail would have us go over the small stone bridge and down the ravine, the muddied waters precluded anyone from following the true trail.
As it turned out, the hares were wise
[???!!!!]
and bought just enough beer [?!]
in order to satisfy the litany of accusations and down-downs. We ran out just as everyone was starting to shiver [and shortly after Baster pitched a tent in circle].
On-Writing-the-Re-Hash-at-Work-While-the-Psycho-Drunks-Sleep-On,
Nurse TaKillYa