There are things that in the course of normal life we may regret. We consider the totality of circumstances, the surroundings, the environment, the social implications, etc. There are those sorts of things, & then there is hashing, thank goodness. & so it is that someone exemplifying all the behaviors one might imagine an inebriated eight year-old to exhibit can write this narrative without a great deal of shame.
We gathered on Friday last to celebrate the greatness of our departing friends Frogfucker & Whisperstick. They have been with us since our inception & have been absolutely fundamental to the warp & weft of our every hash. The entire feel of our gatherings is colored by their idiosyncrasies & their unflagging commitment to the basic tenets of the hash. To say they will be missed is an understatement. & so we had to honor them best we could– with four beer nears, an enormous bonfire, some general debauchery & a wealth of rotgut liquors.
Reacharound & GSS put in a trail that wound us through willows, over ice, down & back up Halfway Creek, over one of the finest ten acre parcels you’ll ever see & then out on to the flats behind the dispatch house, where curious onlookers stood over a grill with arched eyebrows & mystified countenances, uncertain whether to shoot, shit or go blind. Exposed shins were torn asunder, blood flowed, Hamms & R&R went down smooth in honor of our humblest beginnings & the group plodded along in search of the elusive hares. New trail designations for Fish & Yeager Fish were created. Rusty took bites at people’s asses. There was not to my knowledge any obvious display of alcohol abuse, nor of upchucking, nor of egregious trail behavior. Sure, a group of SCBs almost skipped the penultimate beer near, heading directly for the gravel pit, but they were roped back in in short order.
Once we all returned to the gravel pit, the Circle commenced. Oration was provided over a bed of toxic flame after a road flare lit the dog box on fire (many thanks to Davy Cockit & to Buckskin O for their respective contributions to the fire). Down downs were administered, the hallowed stars of the evening appropriately celebrated, the gargantuan bonfire lit & ludicrous behaviors begun. Beerfoot, group mooning & windshield urination were the orders of the day, for better or worse. In a highly stylized ritual, Frogfucker anointed Reacharound as our new Religious Adviser. It was a reverent passing of the baton, & a well deserved one at that.
The night ended variously, as it tends to do. Some withdrew quietly, others were carried to waiting escorts. The fire paled, the embers cooled, & the hash, alas, said its final farewell to dear friends.
Rest assured, though, hounds & harriers, we will honor Frogfucker & Whisperstick as we have honored all of our friends who inexplicably take jobs Outside– by continuing to drink while running the shittiest trails we can find. On on!
Hares: Reacharound Lindeman, Glistening Shit Stick
Hounds: Ranchdick McKinley, Frogfucker, Whisperstick, Davy Cockit, Backup Ranger, Shitfoot, Young Buck, Blow it Twice, Double Pole, Tundra Thumper, Millenium Crotch, Papa Smurf Jiz Face, NNKorhut, NNRaffaeli, Snowplow Pussyface, Serbian Jungle Chode, Randy S. Beavers, NNMiliken, NNKing, Buckskin O’Connor, Stephen Cocking. Who am I forgetting?
Ferriers & Miscellany: Poison, Leprecockin, Borrowed Panties, NNSivvy, NNRagland, NNCorey, NNThompson, NNTFlo
Beer Nears: Hamms & R&R
Trail: Shitty, shitty, then flat (which was shitty)
New names: Young Buck, Shitfoot
Really: NNRaffaeli doesn’t have a name? Really?