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.
Came with a Fake Name