|Posted on December 11, 2009 at 1:47 PM|
Hares: Dick Derailleur, P*ssy Dominatrix, Lay Me Over
Hash Scribe: Lay Me Over
SPOOKY HALLOWEEN HASH
Ten spooky hashers showed up at Woody's Pizza for Saturday's Ft. Collins Halloween Hash hosted by v*rgin hares Dick Derailleur (who was dressed up as "sick and tired" with bright red magic marker measles all over his face and a bicycle tire draped around his neck), P*ssy Dominatrix (who was dressed up as "Breaking News" with an assortment of newspaper clippings taped to her clothes), and filling in as sort of a v*rgin hare mentor was Lay Me Over who wore her usual hash garb - long purple velvet gloves and a tiara.
There was a bunch of new hasher don't - wannabe's who instead of going inside to pre-lube, they rather huddled together beerless and fearful in the far corner of the parking lot including Just Pete dressed as a cave man (wearing a visor). Though he is from Ft. Collins he said he just hasn't gotten around to hashing lately (as if hashing was some heinous toilet cleaning chore). Then there was Just Steve and Just Nicole who said they had to leave early for a party so they might only be able to run part of the trail...or maybe none of it.
Then there was Cum Scout from Denver who finally decided to support the Ft. Collins Hash (which he deemed a rather sordid bunch), as long as he could write it off as a tax deductible charity donation. There was also a v*rgin named Just Kemp. The distinct Savannah accent that he spoke with and the Spanish Moss that clung to his hair, seemed to indicate he was not from around here but when asked where he was from he merely said he came from Ft. Collins - earlier that morning.
Ice Hole wore a Pabst Beer box on his head, Krabs was dressed as an orange and black witch with Vitamin D deficiency who had to keep picking up her broken black fingernails from the pavement, and Pile On was a Statue of Liberty off and on for 30-second intervals. Little Head did not dress up but nonetheless his Scottish kilt enticed many motorists on trail to honk at him and cheer as if that was the best costume they'd seen all day. Yeast Infection dressed up as Tick Dick like she promised but when the real Tick Dick showed up wearing nothing but 3 Holes' old vomit shirt from two years ago, she ripped off the costume to avoid confusion and donned a 250 - pound bear outfit with no ventilation. I'm not sure which option was worse.
Dick Derailleur took off a few minutes early to lay most of the trail live and was seen scurrying through a fence behind Woody's. The rest of the group soon took off after him with Tick Dick in the lead charging down the alley. But there was no flour to be seen. LMO scolded, "Tick Dick! What are you doing? You're not on trail!"
"I saw him go this way!" he yelled with exasperation.
The hashers spread out in all directions and for a good ten minutes they desperately searched every street gutter, every alley, every driveway, every sidewalk. Their efforts proved futile.
"R U?" the hashers running north nervously asked the hashers running west.
"Nothing here! How about over there?!" they anxiously yelled to the hashers running east.
"Nothing here either!" they responded in frustration.
Tick Dick hollered to LMO, "Didn't you teach him how to lay marks from the start?"
"I guess I forgot to go over that part with him," LMO said with apologetically.
Then she began to nervously pull her hair out of her tiara - covered scalp and curse to herself, 'Damn him! He was so intent on laying this live with all his little frickin' water bottles and he swore it was going to be the best trail ever and now he's screwed everything up, after I told him over and over to make the trail obvious, what does he do? He frickin' forgets to lay down any flour! Now what are we supposed to do? We might as well just go the frick home!'
Finally a hasher with more than half a mind ran around to the front of Woody's and eventually discovered a mark across the street.
"On! On!" he screamed.
Oh thank you Jesus, murmured LMO. Then she hollered to the others, "See? That's what I'm talkin' about you suckers!"
The trail led hashers across campus then through snowy fields to the Spring Creek bike path. After Yeast Infection fell down twice and nearly passed out from hyperventilating, she tore off her 250 - pound bear costume in disgust and stormed back to the start. Ice Hole also fell down and nearly passed out but for different reasons.
The first beer check was located at Slider's Bar but when Little Head arrived, he paced back and forth outside the establishment trying to figure out how to get inside.
"Use the door!" Cum Scout impatiently yelled. "It's the rectangular glass thing at the end there!"
"Man, this is so much fun!" purred Just Kemp as some swamp grass fell from his head. "So how often do all y'all do these runs?"
Then after yet another reintroduction between new and old hashers, Cum Scout shouted, "Oh my God! How many times are you guys going to ask each other what your names are? If you didn't get it by the second time, you're not going to remember it so give it up!"
"Oh look who's getting testy," said Just Pete. "It's.....errrr, that guy over there in the brown shirt."
After the hashers continued on from Sliders, some very late hashers showed up including Phillip*nis dressed as Gynecologist Dr. Spreadum who had his own business cards and surgical gloves, and Just Terry dressed as his skanky nurse, plus POD and Astrojack dressed up as bumblebees.
The trail forced the runners to slide down a snowy bank into a cement enclosed canal full of icy water, then across fields adorned with "Danger Keep Out" signs and finally to Campus West for a second beer check at Road 34 Tavern. The end was located only a block from Woody's at Dick and P*ssy's house where Circle was held in the back yard surrounded by flaming jack-o-lanterns and chiminayas. By this time, P*ssy had begun to use her fingers as a puppet and mimicked her dog asking a hasher for a chip. And Ice Hole turned up missing.
The afternoon just kept getting spookier and spookier.
Little Head led Circle while periodically flashing and mooning the hashers. V*rgin Just Kemp proved a very studious hash pupil. Not only was he FRB, but he caught on to accusations instantaneously, even trying out a couple himself, and he couldn't wait to learn all the lyrics to the songs. He was even eager to get named that day. His excitement was so excessive that it caused him to quiver uncontrollably until he wet himself right there in front of everyone.
Those who didn't have a costume on had to drink a down-down and for October birthdays, LMO and Just Pete had to drink since their birthdays are in August. POD drank for being the first bee in. Phillip*nis and Just Terry had to drink for having s*x in Circle.
After Circle, the hashers gathered in two groups around the flaming chiminayas and Just Kemp who is evidently fairly wealthy after the recent sell of his Savannah plantation, began to toss dollar bills into the top of one chiminaya to watch them burn while the poorer hashers frantically reached their peasant hands into the flames to try to retrieve what could possibly help pay for their next meal. Soon the rancid odor of burnt finger flesh coupled with POD's Cheeto fart, permeated the air.
Then LMO preceded to interview the newer hashers with her Fat Tire bottle microphone and asked challenging Barbara Walters questions that were sure to bring forth some unexpected tears.
"Exactly why did you move here and what were you running away from?" she asked one hasher.
"Why has it taken you five years to hash again?" she asked another. "Were you maybe abused as a child?"
"How did you feel while you ran in that leopard skin singlet?" she asked a third hasher. "What I think I'm hearing you say is that you felt lonely and vulnerable? Is that right?"
And last but not least, "Why does it keep smelling like Cheetos every three minutes?"
All questioned hashers soon collapsed into a fit of sobs as they unleashed their agonizing personal stories.
A good time was had by all.