Rehash for the Third Anal SOH4 Red Dress Run

Rehash for the Third Anal SOH4 Red Dress Run

(Note this is being provided unedited so as to preserve the fullness of spirit of the Tweedle who wrote it.)

I figure that leaky mind of a tweedle, twerked out on twerking and being lost in the urban jungle whilst soliciting locals with naught but 1. a barely b-cup 2. Table it and Tri Anything, I must have SOME unique perspective to lend. This Tweedle humbly submits a re-hash in the hopes of providing another piece of the cold pizza puzzle which constitutes The Real Story. #willTheRealKickyDadyPleaseStandUp

It all began, as every cross-dressing jaunt should, with a man, a dress, and his awesome grandmother. Down the catwalk of the Westcott neighborhood struts Just Michael, clad in a tastefully cut jib, (to be fair, his salvo just-peeking above the knee “come-hither” dress). We zoom to the Penny, after much ado about how pretty we all look as well as a great deal about Judd Apatow (but that is neither here, there, nor on-on-on-on trail [And this is BEFORE beer goggles]).

Arriving in style, we find the pub transformed, and it’s occupants transfigured by naught else but panache, glitz, glamour, and very scant smell of the smokey aftermath of waxed masculinity. Like any excellent racist event, there is swag at the sign-in where Goldie and UC hold court to sign muscle-bound-beauties in, from Vagiant in his moo moo and kilted patterns, to Just Vaginas (known erroneously to the hash at large as “Dr. Cock Or Two”) slim-fit svelte dress.

After make up, lipstick, Ke$ha-worthy sparkles, and nail polish, provided and applied by Six From Behind and co., we surveyed the beautiful bounty of baskets shamelessly promoted by Buschy Cholera, with encouragements such as “Give me money or I’ll speak to your children.” The glorious menagerie of raffle baskets (TY and HT to FakeyAndCo!!) included an International basket, with snacks and cascades of nifty global giftees, an adultworld basket with various wonders for the pleasure of the winner (unless you’re UC, in which case the sex toys go back in the closet next to the other white elephant gifts). Then it’s time to….DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUM RRRRRRRRRROOOLLLLLL:

Circle up!!!! After we were gawped at by passers-by, and our photos taken by sidewalk-confined muggles, our gaggle-troupe-harrier-folk went around circle for intros. A few out-of-towners showed from the Hudson Valley, Ithaca, and Flour City [others??? I was busy making bank for Clear Path Help 😛 Help a leaky Tweedle Me brain out] [Mars-Interstellar-Hash]

Ok this is getting extraordinarily long. #drinkItDownDown SO: Abstract/Summary/Short Version: Running. Drinking. The trail was a 6-ish miler…Everyone looked beautiful. No one got hurt. All the Roses were Red, Weddings were Quainter, You should not photo-bomb, unless you’re a Wanka…;) hehe

[oops, ok, /end short version]…because of that 3-hour-detour indulged by Tri Anything, all the nudity Table-it could muster, and me, poor Tweedle You, listlessly parkouring everywhere that lent itself to my highly-focused ramblings!!!

Exhibit A: Not moments away from the MOST and circle, we photo bomb a wedding (the first, yet not the last, on trail). (n=wankas^269)

image (1)

Buschy gets punished for porting tech on trail. There is not enough basmati amongst our handful of half-minds, so the Choleric Buschman must mobilize what’s left of his dandruff to fashion an absorbent heap in a vain effort to revive the bitter and broken remains of what was once his GameBoy color.* (Sorry for pushing you in the font of funk, buschy).

THE FOUNTAIN and cleverly cut and re-sealed and infused vodka pops cum next! Fleshy and I plug it up at Table-It’s suggestion. Playing in the fountain and re-enacting the moisture levels of nearly every layman when encountering a half mind.

Then…..there was flour. There were, apparently, stripper poles too. Which this Tweedle missed because she was either helping the less fortunate or the opiates have finally boggled the lobe that controls memory/risk-aversion BECAUSE: Once upon a sidewalk by J Ryans, I sprinted past in gleeful array of red frippery, sparkly boa a-bouncin and what do I spy with my little eye but an intriguing flash of red and the bark of raucous, yet mildly British, laughter. I skid to stop, as if a Tweedle-Road Runner #notdialup and what to my wondering eyes and thirsty gullet should appear but a modiCUM encircling Tri Anything in her Red Finery and 2 British gentry with BEER!! Watching their Sunday “futball,” they were “best enemies” who Just Bobbie had stopped in to have a pint with! I careened through her circle of admiring riff raff where they promptly offered to buy me a 90 min, IF I’d support Liverpool (“No! Manchesta’, ya bloomin’ iddjiit!! Man U!!”). (Arsenal fan, dyed in the UK-lamb wool, right here #wotWot?) Table it, makes a extravagant and noblesse appearance, flaunting his earning thus far in florally fans of ca$h from his bosom. 2 veterans donate a $20. #awwYEAH

Then the three lost and drunk RDR-ers get involved in engagement photos, and ANOTHER wedding, markedly less pleased to see us, this time around. Table it solicits everyone he come across, and makes a good impression and $30, shamelessly approaching anyone and explaining our cause, collecting money, maybe sporting a little public nudity, and running away.

We 3 are thoroughly lost, it is raining, and down by the Irish fest, then by Destiny mall, where we follow a pipeline and lose dolla dolla bills y’all.
Tri anything asks a dude: “Have you seen any red dresses run by here?” who is shocked and scared of us, and he says, resolutely: “No.”
I ask: “Have you seen anyone in a red dress run by here?”
He answers, again, resolutely: “NO.”
Table says: “Were there peiople running by in red dresses?”
The dude says: :Oh, yeah, they ran by, that way.”

We find the group! We sketch a naughty chalk outline of Snidley with an appendage. I offered to do the same to TOFU, but he declines and gives me a Craft beer mag about PUMPKIN BEER (YOU ROCK TOF!!) after downing some well-earned Duke.

We careen/crawl to the warehouse, where there is much wobble baby wobble baby wobble baby wobbling, beer floating and Captain finds himself once again in a grocery-esque cart.

Figure A: “Wobbling. And floating ‘midst beer and impromptu testosterone cross fit #ceilingRings (n=69)

image (2)

There’s a playground check. And Clear Path for Veterans looks like it’s money bags will be well-lined. !!

We chuck a football around–after a raging warehouse dance party–then ON IN! ON IN ON IN!! Thenwarm beer and cold pizza and raffling and mismanagement did a BANG UP job of keeping people in line. Circle!

Just Cristianna is named–finalmente!!– Many names are tossed around: Spankakopita, hot Sauce, Sriacha Crotcha, Vats Tracks of Land. Many questions were posed:Where do you work? Whose calves would you lick, given the chance? If you had to f*ck a turtle, what would his name be? (HT/ST the unfailingly tasteful and oft-in-pursuit of the homeless Hot Busch for the final inquiry). Hair was spiked with flour and packed into ears and named: “The Trojan Whorse.” (note: the TOFU instantiated modification of nomenclature. I have it on good authority that the latin (genus and species of said trojan horse) is hot sauce. (the reader is asked: Question not a Tweedle’s etymology or her choice in men/women/cutedogs).

Later, Turtle dick sets an impromptu and arduous trail of cheetos at 9:30pm out the back door of the Penny through the front door again. hehe.

Until the next cross dressery, wankas!
xoxoxox Tweedle Me OUT!


Bible, The.

HashHiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Spermaslide, CoCo. FU, TO. 1986. copyright. Web. Available from: Accessed: everydayDuh

*buschy: it is will deep regret that you were tackled by a loose canon. The armory square cannons are often mistaken, much like the Fogo Caldera and Jackoff’s bowels, still active and largely explosive. I sincerely hope your gameboy color survived.

Rehash #143: Spe-humping

Rehash #143: Spe-humping


Respectfully submitted,
Nurse TaKillYa

Rehash #140: Medical Madness

This week’s hash was produced and directed by Old Cock Watcher and Cousin Doesn’t Count, within the genre of medical drama. After a bit of frisbee at On-ondogha hill park we set off on trail. Costume design was outstanding! Ranging from scrubby doctors and naughty nurses to patients presenting with occipital frontalis contusions. Early on there was an underlying sense of dread from the intermittent rain that came down in spurts that would rival Aranofskys film NOAH, but eventually subsided for a more favorable storyline.

At beer nears, there was an attempt to learn the origins of some new characters which led to a more detailed and rich film overall. At one point there was a J shot which had to be delivered by the FRB to a poorly conditioned patient in the rear STAT. Subsequently Ethanol was later administered by the nursing staff to everyone via 5ml syringes PO prn. Also there was a point in the story arc where costumes were exchanged by all which led to some awkward and poor fitting apparel (see photos for detail).

Finally the story came full circle with more alcohol consumption, and fantastic accompaniment of music, and our main antagonist, a giant being defeated by a side-side. Unexpectedly at the last moment there was an M. Night Shamylan-like twist where prime ended up winning the academy award for best costume despite all prior indications that he had lost. The final credits took place at Kelly’s where the giant had 25 hamburgers and hot sauce was drunk by all.

I give this trail an 8.5 out of 10 for good cinematography, great costume design and a fantastic theme while also keeping in mind the extensive rain was distracting and unnecessary. Expect a big-budget sequel in the near future.

Hash Critique Respectfully Submitted,
by Cocktimus Prime

Rehash #134: Homecoming Hash

Rehash #134: Homecoming Hash

Male Bait and Captain Cock Cuntroller hared this SHORT romp through Long Branch Park at Onondaga Lake. Today’s rehash is a hieroglyphic – showing the range of hashabilities.

Respectfully submitted,

Tweedle Me



Rehash #126: Walkabout with PA

“Oh Fakey, please tell me a story!”

“Of course, little Captain. I know just the story. While I wasn’t there, I will tell you what I know about the legend of the 126th hash– the grand adventure of PA’s Walkabout! Listen up…

Once upon a time, there were a bunch of half-minds who liked to drink and sing and run and be merry. One day these half minds, led by the silliest half-mind of all named Pleasantly Average and his young apprentice Just Tim, went on a walkabout at Green Lakes. It was cold and snowy and not very green at all, but that was okay because these half-minds were never deterred by weather and of course they had beer at pre-lube. They were jovial and a peace-loving bunch and life was good. But soon the half-minds had to flee because a giant ogre was about to invade their village. The ogre was mean and blood sucking and the half-minds were very afraid. Half-minds scattered haphazardly, leaving behind their modes of transport. But alas, PA and Just Tim had left magical sprinklings in the snow to help guide them away from danger. While PA and his apprentice were the fearless leaders, they were also prone to tomfoolery and trickery so while the half-minds were removed from immediate danger, the sprinklings were not always clear. Eventually they came to a wonderful place that had more beer. For a time the half-minds were happy and lived peacefully, joyfully frolicking and imbibing, but soon their leader PA was calling “On-out” because the ogre was still following them, so off they went scrambling through shiggy in search of more utopian beer paradise. Under the leadership of PA and with the protection of Cunt Watch Own Porn, who was wielding a Shovel of Shame , the half minds made it to the next safe haven. It was a glorious stone castle! There was much rejoicing and celebration! The half minds settled into the comfort of the stone structure and toasted with more beer and song. Fleshlight performed the ceremonial showing of the ass, a half-mind ritual performed in times of great happiness. But alas, the ogre returned and the half-minds had to abandon their beer utopia once again and seek refuge elsewhere. The elements were becoming less kind and soon the travelers had to huddle around bottles of warming fluid to survive! But alas, each moment of safety was briefer than the last. Finally the half minds had gathered again at their modes of transport—safety was almost theirs. They formed the ritualistic circle and thanked their wise leaders for a brilliant trail to safety. They also celebrated the good deeds and kindness of fellow half-minds with public recognition. And at the end of the journey, the young apprentice Just Tim was bestowed with a special name—Snow Me a Blowman and welcomed with a song and shower. The land of Green Lakes had been an exciting adventure, but soon the half-minds knew that they could not survive there and departed for Trappers II where warmth, flowing beer, the promise of hot food, and living in peace to possibly get a piece was the real utopia.

The end.”

Respectfully submitted,
Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #124: Winter HashLympics

In varying states of sobriety, half minds gathered at Camillus Park to partake in the 2015 Edition of WinterHashlympics. There was a couple mile trail set by Just Tim through piles of snow and trees with an RC69 back to the start. Poor Fakey was waiting for us at the start, having locked her keys her vehicle :/ On the plus slide, Stiffy Lube signed in as “S. Lube”, or “Slube”, as he came to be known.

From there the Hashlympic Committee of Just Tim, UC, and OTD announced events and rules (we still don’t know what happened to Hentai, our would-be fourth hare who didn’t make it out to this day and we hope this finds him well). This edition would be a series of 4 relay and team events with 5 points for 1st place, 3 pts for 2nd place, and 1 pt for DFL of the thing. Teams were sorted based on sign-in to “Team F**king Awesome”, captained by UC and having an additional person, “Team Just Tim”, captained by Just Tim, and “Team Hashers Have More Fun in Bed” captained by OTD. Heroically, as the games were about to begin, AAA freed Fakey’s keys from their captivitiy.

The first event was a beer mile relay consisting of 8 quarter mile laps, some of which were through over a foot of snow. How teams completed 8 laps was entirely up to them. Two participants, including one virgin, puked but after completing a lap. Good times. Pokey blazed through his two laps, propelling Team HHMFIB to 1st place finish with Team Just Tim coming in 2nd and Team FA in 3rd. Cold beer miles suuuuuuck fwiw. Oh and boots are not ideal for beer milers.

Event two was a team alcosicle eating race where everyone on the team went at same time, first team to finish wins. It was cold as hell and brutal, though the popsicles (some sort of rum thing was in one, some other kind of one) were delicious. Team Just Tim dominated this event, led by Ass Wide Shut completing his in record time (if such records existed or we had timed it), Team HHMFIB coming in second, and team FA possibly not completing it or still working on theirs :)

Event three was Dizzy Cup relay! Participants from each team ran a bit to broom sticks (er poles), circled 5 times, ran back to where they started where there was a table.. from there they had to drink a full beer and complete a flip cup action. Again Team Just Tim dominated, and not even Pastor’s attempts to distract Ass Wide Shut from completing his flip cup action prevented their victory. Team HHMFIB came in second with Team FA, again, coming in 3rd.

The final event was the Tour Drunk Pod relay. The Hashlympic committee elected to not attempt an entire box of wine per team, saving said wine for another day. Instead, the rider of the pod would have to drink a full beer, be pulled around a loop on their pod by their team members, and then the next rider would go. Against all odds (if odds were given for such things), and propelled by alcohol, Team HHMFIB would win this event, despite pulling the pod completely out from under Lube on the first loop. . After a fierce battle, Team FA would edge out Team Just Tim, giving Team Hashers Have More Fun in Bed the overall victory for the day!!! Team Just Tim came in second, and Team FA avoided DFL in all events triumphantly at last possible second. During this event, I believe a couple of muggles at the park either had an alcosicle or a beer with us as well. Several hashletes were fully depleted from the games and lay panting at the end; Slube, in particular, lay panting. I can’t recall if/when others puked as well following this event.

I recall little of circle other than accusations (oh an CWOP hearts nerd names) and awards for hashletes. Bonus points to the virgins for whom this was their first hash!!! After was going to be at Asil’s, but they didn’t have food for some reason (during a cuse game?!) so we were onto Kelley’s to warm up.

Awards of Individual Merit Bestowed
Beer Mile Relay – Pokey (for being fast!)
Popsicle Eating – Ass Wide Shut (For being fast!)
Dizzy Cup – Ass Wide Shut (For actually finishing flip cup to secure the win despite Pastor’s um distractions)
Tour Drunk Pod – Slube (for effort)

Notable Hashlympic Fails
Just Tim – pressed his cranium into pole during Dizzy Cup so hard he bent it!
UC – tray of prepared alcosicles tumbling to ground off of a car before the events.

Faster, higher, stranger,

Rehash #123: Frozen Hash

Hash #123 was dubbed the Frozen Hash for good reason. Ass Wide Shut and Just Andrew decided to set trail in f*%$ing Oswego County in Cleveland, NY on the north shore of Oneida Lake on what was quite possibly the coldest Saturday in recent memory. Despite a high of 13 degrees and a wind chill below zero a surprisingly large number of half minds came out to freeze whatever brain cells they had left.

The cold weather made the hash antsy and ready to go, so chalk talk actually started pretty much at 1:69HST. Pastor RA’ed and led the hash through introductions for the two virgins present. Pastor asked Turtle to present the Shovel of Shame to a new recipient, but he wasn’t ready so the floor was turned over to the hares to attempt chalk talk. Although bright purple and highly visible, the marks were numerous, illegible, and confusing as ever. It only got worse when folks started to stomp on the marks and Fleshy decided to make purple snowballs to throw at Dry Spell, who has made a comment about “too many Beer Nears.” WTF? There were also some ominous warnings of sharp ice, thin ice, water, and certain death on this trail. Somehow the hash got through chalk talk. Turtle was finally ready to relinquish the shovel and bestowed it upon Dry Spell for his “too many BNs” comment. He promptly refused to carry it. The hash made note of this. The final business was to wish Pastor a happy birthday and do the legal disclaimer before On-out.

Checking from the end of the driveway and off on a snow mobile path and then into field of unbroken snow. That led to a mark not mentioned in chalk talk—a PC. What could it be? The hash used their wits to figure out it meant Playground Check and romped around the equipment at a school. Then off through “downtown” Cleveland and onto a hopefully solidly frozen Oneida Lake. It was pretty pleasant on the lake, but it was even more pleasant when the first Beer Near was found in a gazebo on the shores of the lake. Goldie made herself comfortable on a tub and some hash members tried to spin her in it. There was also talk of sending her down the embankment in it. Fortunately that did not happen. The BN was quite pleasant, albeit cold, and everyone was in good spirits—at least until they noticed it was the “Gazebo of Sadness” and was a 9/11 memorial.

Upon that depressing reminder the hash went on their way through the residential neighborhoods of the metropolis of Cleveland. A few checks later (and please note: never follow Dry Spell, he is always wrong) the hash ended up at the school again. This time for a snowman making contest. The cold air made the snow pretty dry and unpackable, so motivation was pretty low until the hares mentioned prizes. Snidely took the lead and drew a lovely snowman in the snow and Goldie provided the 2-D snowman with a package. The virgins, Just Erica, and Pokahotass got really creative and found packed blocks of snow to stack up into a snowman-like form, complete with really big wood, and Turtle violated the snowman from the rear with a traffic cone. These overachievers were declared the winners and the hash continued, stopping briefly to watch Jackoff climb a tree.

The hash entered the woods and meandered around deep snow. The FRB Fleshy found the J check and shared it with Fakey, the DFL. Fleshy also found a cooler that he decided to carry with him the remainder of trail. The trail became more shigtastic with snow, ice, water, branches, and logs. The second Beer Near was actually more of a Beer Slush Near. Many of the bottled beers were partially frozen. Snacks were had and trail continued through the woods. Fireball made for a pleasant and warming stop at the Shot Check, not to be confused with a Song Check! The third Beer Near was just as frosty and from there it was mostly a road walk back to the On-in.

The On-in was inside and once the entire hash straggled in the accusations began. The hares were appropriately punished for their misdeeds and took their down-downs. Virgins were introduced and appropriately welcomed and then the real accusations began. Peeing on trail, hash crashes, and the big one—refusing to carry the Shovel of Shame! Dry Spell retrieved the shovel from his car and did his down-downs from the shovel. The hash wished Pastor a happy birthday and went in peace to possibly, maybe-if-they-play-their-cards-right get a piece. On-after was at the Sand Bar.

Respectfully submitted,
Came With a Fake Name

Rehash #119: Butters’ Funeral

On January 4, 2015 wankers of the SOH4 gathered together at the Solar Street parking lot to remember their departed friend ButtHer Balls. His holiness Pastorbator presided over the service and Came with a Fake Name set a non-existent trail in honor of Butters’ recent non-existent hashing life. The mourners donned their best black attire to honor the somber occasion. Pastor started off with a prayer and then turned chalk talk over to Fakey. There were be one symbol for this day—a sad collective, “OH!” For the purpose of “trail” it meant On-Hare, but it was a sentiment that much of the group felt…

”OH! Why was Butters’ young hashing life cut so short?”
“OH! Who will instigate Friday Night Freakouts?”
“OH! How will we go on?”

And then a birthday greeting for Pastor and the legal disclaimer, where it’s all Butters’ fault. And on-out on-hare. Fakey led the somber procession around the parking lot, marking trail as they proceeded Along the way the mourners passed a plate of food just randomly placed in the parking lot. They were stopped in their tracks. Waffles. Muffins. Butters had liked food. A moment of silence. Anal-yze this shared that in Buddhism food is offered to the departed and the hash took this as a clear sign.

The hash entered Destiny with Fakey making marks along the way, arrows on the escalator railing, checks on the tiles, and even a false. After such a confusing trail the hash ended up at Cantina Laredo. Some remembered that time they all got margaritas with Butters before going to a Monty Python movie. OH! The memories. So many memories.

The bartender was a bit surprised to see such a large group, and even more surprised that they were decked out in black. We explained we were celebrating the memory of a departed friend. She understood and soon there were Bloody Marys and Mimosas all around. A toast was made. Then the bartender remembered a certain incident that had happened months back where some half-minds had crashed a first date of a friend and ordered the couple a really terrible shot (Cement Mixers for those looking for a really bad shot). This couldn’t be the same group of assholes, could it? Yep.

While salsa, chips, and beverages were consumed, the hash wrote down messages to dearly departed Butters. Perhaps the most touching was from Deflower City who summed it up for everyone—“You never did get any good at the bugle.” Then the hash was on-out to the somber portion of the day. At this point Dry Spell became a hare and led the pack to the Creek Walk. Along the way some wankers stopped for an impromptu Beer Near at Snidely’s truck.

At the end of the Creek Walk, next to the Most Polluted Lake in America, the hash began the proper memorial. A hot cocoa toast was passed around. Pastor led the hash in eulogizing Butters and everyone shared memories. “Remember that time Butters was drunk?” and “Remember that time Butters said something inappropriate?” and on and on. At last it was time to say goodbye and go drink more. So Fakey tried to light the funeral pyre, mostly unsuccessfully, but eventually they were able to light the memorial on fire and watch it disappear into a pile of ashes—except his picture would not burn and neither did the message from Deflower.

The hash made their way back to circle up. Fakey and Dry Spell were accused of various indiscretions for a shitty trail. There were other accusations and down-downs and then the hash went in peace to get a piece, which was how they had lost Butters—when he got a piec.

Then back to Cantina Laredo for more Bloody Marys and Mimosas. Sadly Cantina had pretty much exhausted all of their Bloody Mary mix. After a few rounds of far too expensive drink the hash moved to Revolutions for the official On-after.

RIP ButtHer Balls. You were a good hasher.

Respectfully submitted,
Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #117: The Mad Ho! Ho? Who You Calling a Ho? Hash

‘Twas the Saturday before Christmas, when out in Mad Co
the hares were stirring, setting the 2nd Mad Ho.
The chalk was tinted red and sprinkled with care,
in hopes that the hashers soon would be there.
The hashers arrived, dragged from their beds,
while visions of shitty hash beer danced in their heads.
And Fakey in her elf suit, and Deflower in a Mickey cap,
had just set a trail they hoped would surprise and trap!

Out on the road there was such a commotion!
Hashers sprang from cars in search of hash potion.
Away to the pre-lube cooler they did dash,
tore open the lid, and got ready to hash.

And as the pre-lube beers did flow,
hashers and dogs played in the road.
When, what to the hash’s wondering eyes should be seen,
but a beat up old car that was not very clean..

With a little old driver, neon coat shining through,
We knew in a moment that it must be TOFU.
Then less rapid than turtles, a circle was made,
Chalk talk to introduce the marks that were laid:
“Beer Near! Shot Check!
Now, something new!
BSN: a Beer Shot Check!
Plus Picture and Song Checks for you!
Now checking from here!
Yes, all arrows are true!
Now dash away! Dash away!
It’s your own fucking fault too!”

As snow crunched under their feet, asking themselves “why?”,
under the cloudy gray Mad Co sky,
searching for true trail they flew,
dressed like hoes, elves, reindeer, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling they found an X on the trail,
checking from here, and a Big F for Fail.
False trails and reverses had them turning around,
But soon enough the Shot Check was found.

A thermos of booze laced cocoa to their lips was put,
And then the on-out again dashing on foot.
Through the snowy woods they did trek
to find a shelter of sticks for a Picture Check,

The snow–how it twinkled! White, light, and airy!
The BS Check was found; it made the kennel so merry!
Eggnog liquor and holiday beer made them glow,
And then they were off running through the snow.
The branches of trees got in their way,
And then there was the checking of J.
But they were soon on a trail that was more mellow,
and by Bridges of Mad Co they found shots of Jell-o.
Red and white gel in a clump, a right disgusting mess,
and they gagged when they ate them, these shots did not impress.
But a bit more trail, and a last Beer Near ahead
let the hash know they had nothing to dread.

Quick work to the BN, skipping the last J check,
and soon filled their vessels, with circle on deck.
Down-downs were given, and a visit by a local guy:
He was properly welcomed and then he said goodbye.

To the Blue Canoe, to wet their whistles,
No blizzard this year, they all flew like missiles.
But they were heard exclaiming, before they drove out of sight,

“May the hash go in peace, may the hash get a piece tonight!”

Respectfully submitted,
Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #110: The Most Dangerous Hash

The Most Dangerous Hash started out the way one would expect a dangerous hash to begin: With guns and corpses. But these wankers weren’t afraid. Around twenty-five wild adventurers gathered at the Three Rivers Wildlife Management Area outside Baldwinsville. They weren’t alone. Sportsman in full camouflage prepared for the hunt. Dead birds lying about proved they were serious.

Despite the Safety Third rule, most half-minds came prepared in safety yellow and blaze orange. Just Cristianna and Just Jonny thumbed their noses at safety and wore cammo and animal ears. Chalk talk consisted of the hares, AssFault LickHer and Vagiantalia, randomly throwing down some flour and trying to convince the half-minds that it actually meant something. Most likely it meant certain death! AssFault also promised something special on trail. For once, the legal disclaimer actually meant something—as in if you run in a Wildlife Management Area during hunting season and get shot, well, it is your own fucking fault.

And On-out. And then running. So.Much.Running. Maybe that was the true danger—dying from all that running. Did the hares forget that this is a drinking club with a running problem? Actually, two hashers were already pretty much at death’s door after a particularly exciting Friday night beer festival. Bushy and Pocket were pretty much the Walking Dead. Also a somewhat random but noteworthy point here—never follow Dry Spell at checks, as he is pretty much always wrong.

Finally after far too much running there was a shot check. Sweet relief. So far no one had been shot and the Hangover twins were still alive, so everyone was in good spirits. Then on-out through the shiggy. Wet trails and uneven footing added to the adventure. Eventually the half-minds stumbled upon a dump or something that also happened to be the first Beer Near. A hasher’s paradise really. There were pumpkins and an old couch. Fleshy and Jackoff amused themselves with pumpkins while Bushy and Pocket tried to bring themselves back to life with a beer on the couch. The former was successful, the latter not so much. But the old couch was a great place for a group picture.

Then Ass Fault came out dressed as Effie Trinket from the Hunger Games and announced a hashy version. Each contestant received “bullet stickers” and the goal was to be the last one standing in The Hashy Games: May the odd ever be in your favor. Let’s just say some people took it incredibly seriously and others did not. For some it was just a fun reason to touch each other’s butts and others wanted to dominate at any cost. The game continued on through the Wildlife Management Area awhile and eventually led to the second Beer Near at a parking area.

Then it was basically a jog back to the On-in. The game was over and the winners were about to be declared! As AssFault began to declare, “The winner of the first Hashy Games is—“ everyone stopped and looked down the road at a figure clad in safety yellow jacket jogging towards them. Who could it be? It was TOFU! It was unanimous—TOFU was the winner of the Hashy Games and had used stealth and cunning to successfully avoid death! Actaully, he was late and followed the marks to catch up to the hash, but he was bestowed the grand prize of special Hashy Games beers: Katpiss and Beaverqueen!

Circle consisted of the usual nonsense: accusations for hares for a shitty trail—not enough shiggy, not enough pumpkins, too many couches, etc. And plenty of down-downs for the rest of the half-minds. Then the hash went in peace to get a piece, relived that no one was in pieces. On-after was at Bombadil’s in Phoenix which was the perfect place to end The Most Dangerous Hash. The locals seemed a bit surprised to be overtaken by a bunch of half-minds. Surprisingly there were no bar brawls and everyone survived the day’s events.

Respectfully submitted,
Came with a Fake Name