05 November 2005
1. A View from the Driver’s Seat
Darkside H3 - 26 April 2003
Hare: Little Easy
Hounds: Butt Pipe, Burning Bush, General Erect Dic*, Wine Ho, Elvis, Dane Bramage
Bimbo: [no one important]
Hostess: Piss Pour
Yours Truly was on the DL, and I decided it would be wise not to run. So I became The Keeper of the Bags for only the second time in my hashing life. What mental battles confronted me this night, I would have never imagined. The grief began the instant the Hounds gave chase, following the first swipes of flour across the parking lot. Suddenly, I was struck by the setting sun and the perfect temperatures, and I realized my long, hard whistle would go unused. But my resolve stiffened: If my only task was to help these daring pioneers on their lengthy mission, then I would not fail them.
I jumped into my trusty Bimbo Mobile (well, semi-trusty… right WH?) and sped off to the first beer stop. My mind raced as fast as my screeching tires, as I wondered what perils these half-dozen brave souls could be facing out there beyond the asphalt. My question was answered when I saw a flour-covered hare r*cing down the street, headed right for the interstate. That could only mean one thing: Tunnel.
The Hare’s map led me to the back of a neighborhood park, where the tall trees reflected the waning rays of sunlight and covered the area in a serene hush. My peripheral vision caught a blur, and when it slowed down, I noticed it was Easy. He stopped just long enough to grab more flour, then dashed off again into the canopy of trees. He had just disappeared into the undergrowth when I saw another blur. This one was much smaller, and let out a loud Meow. I looked down to see a tiny kitten, anxiously looking up at me.
Soon the hounds arrived, and the kitten suddenly had an entire group of humans to rub up against. He finally focused on one of Easy’s ziploc bags of flour GE had found in the forest, and began clawing and biting at it. The flour became a fixation for this miniature beast, and GE finally had to lift the bag off the ground. But this little ball of fur really wanted the flour, and exploded with energy to leap for it again and again. As fascinating as it was, the pack realized they would have to move on, and resumed their chase into the woods. Forgetting that it was of the feline persuasion, the cat bounded off after the Hounds, hopping onto trees and flying back to the ground with as much stealth and speed as an over-stimulated squirrel. We had found a true Hashing Cat.
The second beer stop was at another neighborhood park, and Easy had arrived just ahead of the Bimbo Mobile. At this point, the fearless Hare had already done the equivalent of two shorter hashes, and was beginning to look a little disheveled. After a quick gulp of a neon sports beverage, and with his flour stocks replenished, he once again bolted for the woods, chasing the final rays of light to the awaiting creek. An hour later, glowing flashlights signaled the incoming Hounds, who all had a burning desire to shake the rocks out of their shoes. Dane Bramage used the time to flop down in an extremely horizontal resting position. Yet any rest was short-lived, as the pack once again sprinted toward The Unknown.
Soon, the thirsty Hounds trickled in to the final stop of the night, which was the inviting backyard at P*ss Pour’s. The usual disinfection procedure followed, which included hefty amounts of water and rubbing alcohol. Camp chairs, fudgie grahams and cold beer were the order of the evening, as the group sat around a warm fire, kept alive by our gracious hostess. Jokes were heard, rumors were started, and a good time was had by all.
Until next month,
On Out
Hare: Little Easy
Hounds: Butt Pipe, Burning Bush, General Erect Dic*, Wine Ho, Elvis, Dane Bramage
Bimbo: [no one important]
Hostess: Piss Pour
Yours Truly was on the DL, and I decided it would be wise not to run. So I became The Keeper of the Bags for only the second time in my hashing life. What mental battles confronted me this night, I would have never imagined. The grief began the instant the Hounds gave chase, following the first swipes of flour across the parking lot. Suddenly, I was struck by the setting sun and the perfect temperatures, and I realized my long, hard whistle would go unused. But my resolve stiffened: If my only task was to help these daring pioneers on their lengthy mission, then I would not fail them.
I jumped into my trusty Bimbo Mobile (well, semi-trusty… right WH?) and sped off to the first beer stop. My mind raced as fast as my screeching tires, as I wondered what perils these half-dozen brave souls could be facing out there beyond the asphalt. My question was answered when I saw a flour-covered hare r*cing down the street, headed right for the interstate. That could only mean one thing: Tunnel.
The Hare’s map led me to the back of a neighborhood park, where the tall trees reflected the waning rays of sunlight and covered the area in a serene hush. My peripheral vision caught a blur, and when it slowed down, I noticed it was Easy. He stopped just long enough to grab more flour, then dashed off again into the canopy of trees. He had just disappeared into the undergrowth when I saw another blur. This one was much smaller, and let out a loud Meow. I looked down to see a tiny kitten, anxiously looking up at me.
Soon the hounds arrived, and the kitten suddenly had an entire group of humans to rub up against. He finally focused on one of Easy’s ziploc bags of flour GE had found in the forest, and began clawing and biting at it. The flour became a fixation for this miniature beast, and GE finally had to lift the bag off the ground. But this little ball of fur really wanted the flour, and exploded with energy to leap for it again and again. As fascinating as it was, the pack realized they would have to move on, and resumed their chase into the woods. Forgetting that it was of the feline persuasion, the cat bounded off after the Hounds, hopping onto trees and flying back to the ground with as much stealth and speed as an over-stimulated squirrel. We had found a true Hashing Cat.
The second beer stop was at another neighborhood park, and Easy had arrived just ahead of the Bimbo Mobile. At this point, the fearless Hare had already done the equivalent of two shorter hashes, and was beginning to look a little disheveled. After a quick gulp of a neon sports beverage, and with his flour stocks replenished, he once again bolted for the woods, chasing the final rays of light to the awaiting creek. An hour later, glowing flashlights signaled the incoming Hounds, who all had a burning desire to shake the rocks out of their shoes. Dane Bramage used the time to flop down in an extremely horizontal resting position. Yet any rest was short-lived, as the pack once again sprinted toward The Unknown.
Soon, the thirsty Hounds trickled in to the final stop of the night, which was the inviting backyard at P*ss Pour’s. The usual disinfection procedure followed, which included hefty amounts of water and rubbing alcohol. Camp chairs, fudgie grahams and cold beer were the order of the evening, as the group sat around a warm fire, kept alive by our gracious hostess. Jokes were heard, rumors were started, and a good time was had by all.
Until next month,
On Out
# posted by L&F @ 5:13 PM 
