|Posted on February 10, 2010 at 2:21 PM|
(this is my version of the story and this is exactly what happened)
It wasn't necessarily the best hash ever. There was nothing wrong with the trail which began at The Cork in Fort Collins. It's just that in order to find parts of it, the hashers needed to have brought with them some land surveying tripods, night vision scopes and bloodhounds. Had the hares PileOn and Dick DeRailleur not neglected to mention those tiny little details, this hash would have been at the top (or maybe closer to the bottom).
There were more virgins at this hash than can be found at the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary so it took 20 minutes just to get through introductions. Chalk Talk also took twice as long because PileOn had to keeping going over the meaning of each mark. But that's because Tick Dick was confused and kept raising his hand for clarification. Plus his pen quit working so he couldn't take notes like he usually does.
Just Joe blew in from Laramie. Just Beth, Just Ben and Just Alea were from Ft. Collins. 3 Holes No Waiting brought two rambunctious v*rgins named Just Drew and Just Joel (and it was Just Joel's frequent elk turd stops on the way over that caused them to be late). There was also a long-haired newcomer from Boulder named Looks Bigger Under Water (and it did look bigger when he showed hashers the video footage from his cell phone).
Psycho-anal-yst finally showed up. He was once a regular named Just John but when he was given his new name back in May, he copped an attitude and decided to retire. Yet there he was on Saturday doing a proud Brett Favre comeback. Krabs R' Us drove up pulling a horse trailer behind her that carried her horse - dog Elsie. Once she got Elsie saddled up, the hashers took off running while PileOn hollered after them, "While you run, be thinking of a song we can sing at Circle! Ok guys? Anyone? Hello?"
Half of the group did not get lost for awhile because the virgins were brilliant at the start, finding almost every flour dollop right away and yelling a single "On!" at each one.
"This is so fun," they excitedly exclaimed. "On!"
They reached the first beer check that was located in a park east of College Avenue during which SnowJob decided he would use in every sentence he said.
"Did all of you come up with a song to sing?" PileOn inquired.
"Not ," said SnowJob.
Then Looks Bigger Underwater talked fondly about dandelions.
Meanwhile, the other half of the group including Can't Say No, Psycho-anal-yst, Up My Poudre, and Tick Dick, lost trail only ten minutes into the run and preceded to wander along a drainage ditch in the middle of a field for a half hour.
The front - runners finished their beer and continued the trail which led them past sheep and llama pens at the CSU Vet Hospital. Just Joe from Laramie took a big whiff and said, "Ahhh, it smells like home." They then caught up with the lost bunch and became lost themselves. After more frantic searching that turned up nothing, Lay Me Over wisely suggested, "There are two bars just up ahead on Shields. Why don't we head that way because the hares are probably at one of them."
"Not ," piped SnowJob.
Sure enough, the group ultimately found the hares waiting for them at Sliders for the second beer check. When Just Joel entered the bar, he quickly ran to the bathroom to eliminate more of his elk turds.
After this beer check, the hashers were faced with three back to back false trails in Rolland Moore Park that each went on for a half mile. By the third one, the hashers resigned themselves to defeat, looking not unlike the Vikings did after losing to the Saints in the NFC Championship. They slowed their gait to a painful hobble, slumped their shoulders and hung their heads in despair. Up My Poudre's a** muscle ached, LMO's hip had become unhinged, Tick Dick had ruptured his entire body, Can't Say No began thinking suicidal thoughts, and Krab's horse-dog Elsie had thrown a shoe.
The mangled group was now wandering lost through a park that had by this time become very dark. The sun had gone down and the moon had come up. The pleasant chirping of birds was replaced by the eerie howling of wolves. The smiling elderly couples who were walking hand in hand were replaced by rapists and drug dealers who were waving around knives and guns.
"I think I'm going to retire again," whined Psycho-anal-yst.
"Me too," said CSN. "How about you SnowJob? Are you going out with us?"
"Not ," he responded. Then he suddenly spotted some flour leading in a new direction and off he trotted like a buoyant baby goat while the others shook their heads at his excessive energy, optimism and other enviable goat - like qualities.
At last Snowjob led the downtrodden group to the end which was located at the new Jugs bar (sans shirtless female bartenders) at Shields and Drake, now called West End Pub. As soon as Just Joel arrived, he ran to the bathroom to eliminate more elk turds while Can't Say No, LMO, and UP My Poudre did a runners' prayer stretch by placing their left ankles on their right knees, putting their arms around each other, and stretching their pectineus muscles while simultaneously kneeling their heads and praying, "Dear God, you're a good God. Help us not to damage and dismember the hares on this oh sacred of days but instead let us receive some blessed drink in abundance so that our weary souls might be soothed, and let us remember all of the lyrics of a song or two, any song will do, in the name of Mary Magdalene. Amen."
During Circle, when Just Drew and Just Joel were asked by PileOn who made them come, they both replied, "Clifford." That and their many other erroneous remarks and actions caused them to have to drink a multitude of down-downs and they soon began to sway and slur their words. For the first time in the history of hash namedom, It was decided that Just Joel deserved a name already, possibly Elk Turd. Just Alea came up with the name Roadside Distraction, then Roadside Decraption. The name he was ultimately awarded was "Clifford's B*tch." So to celebrate and bond with their newly named pal, 3 Holes, Just Drew and Clifford's B*tch high fived each other, slammed their shoulders into one another and punched each other in the nuts with their fists.
Psycho-anal-yst had to drink a down-down because when he grabbed his cell phone to call his Iranian fiancé, he couldn't remember her phone number.
"At least I'm pretty sure her first name is Assieh," he sheepishly muttered. "Or is it Shish Kabob?"
Then P*ssy Dominatrix strode in wearing street clothes, claiming she had to work that day. Everyone groaned and she had to drink. After Can't Say No got tired of offering song suggestions, Circle came to a close. 3 Holes walked around hugging everyone, then picking each one up and saying, "I love you man! You made this the best hash ever."
"Whoa!" said SnowJob when his turn came. "You don't have to pick me up. I get it dude."
A few of the hashers spent the on-after at Pitchers where the lighting above their table was so dark that they had to read their menus by the light of Up My Poudre's cell phone. The food they ordered was equally unsettling. Conversation included talk about grilled bananas and baklava and Poudre and LMO giggled at a man throwing darts whose t-shirt read, "For my next trick I need a condom and a volunteer."
A good time was had by all...well, not .