Hares: Chicken Stiffer, Fluffer and Serving Seaman

I was driving the streets of downtown Cincinnati looking for the beginning of the hash (The Erections on the website were a bit vague at best).  When I got to the convention center I detected the distinct stench of cheap beer, shattered dreams and kielbasa.   That could only mean one thing…..Chicago hashers !!!!!!  I knew I was close, but where should I park?  It was 2:30 in the afternoon on a Saturday so there should have been an abundance of free parking.  Unfortunately The Una Licker had scheduled the Reds/Cubs Hash for the same weekend as Little Boy Blue Ball's  Extended Family Reunion and Fashion Show.  I managed to squeeze in between a 1972 Pink Convertible Cadillac and a 2007 black Escalade on 22-inch rims with Cubs spinners. 

 By this time, it was 5 minutes till three and I was a mile away (thanks, Una) so I sprinted to the corner lot of Fourth and Plum at top speed.  I was channeling Best Blow all the way in hopes of not being a Late Cummer.  I reached the start, huffing and puffing, only to find out, much to my chagrin, that the hash started at 3:00 Chicago Hash Time (CHT) which evidently is like 3:37 Sin City Time (SCT).  Oh well - at least I had time to catch up with old friends.  Blue had left the Reunion long enough to join us.  Three Way Time and Hot Tub Slut were there arguing about when to use “i” before “e” or some other earth-shattering grammatical issue.  Crabs had only been there three minutes but had already committed enough hash crimes to get a whale drunk.  Speaking of whales… Hump Back drove up from Lexington to join in the fun.  Pickle was there in all his glory and Booty managed to squeeze us in between Calls.  Butt Digger and Eats It stopped by on the way to a birthday party /wake.  As expected Hyper was there, never missing an opportunity to wear his tight baseball pants (I didn’t know he was Jewish). Oh yea and Y showed up to pad her “What I did over my summer vacation” first day back dissertation at Milford High.   Now who Da F were all these other people.  I thought I saw Fag Whore but since it has been sooo long I wasn’t sure.  Dead Fucker brought some harriettes, one of which was a virgin - but he wouldn’t say which (we assume it was whichever one is faster than him).  Nickleback showed up with Hoof n Mouth who in turn showed up with an engagement ring.

 Chicken Stiffer took over the chalk talk and proceeded to explain that we should flush everything we knew about Sin City hash marks out of our “Half Minds” because he was using Chicago marks for today’s hash. After about 10 minutes of hieroglyphs written with huge penis chalk (somebody’s overcompensating) and directions that seemed to be in Latin the pack decided to just follow piles of flour and hare arrows.  The hares were supposed to be Fluffer from Sin City and Chicken From Chicago.  Chicken (living up to his name) produced a note form his gynecologist and referenced the Hasher’s With Disabilities Act (I didn’t know a hangover was a disability) insisting he needed “a little help”.  We gave him “a little help” in the form of that 5’2” fireball we call Serving Seaman. 

 And the hares were away as it was now 3:37 SCHT.  The pack mingled for a while, skipping Father Abraham due to the oppressive heat and humidity (and because we didn’t want to prove to Blue’s relatives that in fact white people don’t have any rhythm).   Hot Tub was pushing the Baseball Hash shirts and Pickle was attempting to scalp his $10 game ticket to a virgin for $40.  Soon the pack was “away”.  Most hashers assumed the trail would be the standard downtown hash.  You know, cross the bridge into KY (buy some jelly and have a BN), come back to Ohio, HEAD up to Mount Adams, have a BN at Crowley’s, and then come back to the On-In.   Elephant Tight Ass was so sure of this he took off across the bridge and we never saw him again.  So if anybody sees someone who looks like a young Kris Kringle running around Northern Kentucky, give him a beer and tell him we miss him. It turns out Fluffer decided to make the Chicago hashers feel more at home by running us through the seedy underbelly of Porkopolous.   We ran down along the river where the ratio of hasher to homeless was about 1:5.  There was a Photo Check. Then trail ran past what I can only assume is the infamous Mega Bus.  We ran along the railroad tracks where trail was somehow laid under a train (bad timing or prelaid?).   After about 30 minutes of running we made it to the first Beer Near.  You know it’s a shame that “Jesus Can’t go Hashing” because if he could maybe he could have performed a miracle and multiplied the beer and chips into enough for everyone.  95 degrees with 100% humidity and we get a six pack and a half eaten bag of chips in a plastic bag filled with melted ice.  Woo hoo!!! Don’t spoil us, Hares!  We continued onward with a new determination (and an old thirst) through more of the worst that Sin City has to offer.  There was a nice fence crossing, another photo opportunity on the bridge over the highway.  And Blue started to work on a plan to get the pack some food since the hares were not treating us well.

 Since there were no naturally occurring hills on this hash, Seamen evidently decided to put the second beer near on top of a 40’ high mound of gravel.  Chicken’s estimate of 100’ might be a bit of an embellishment but it would explain why he thinks he has 12 inches.   None of the regular hashers would climb the gravel to get the beer (why make the effort for a six pack and two pretzel sticks).  So second time hasher (I have no idea what his name is so I’ll just call him) Jack and QB went up to see, and fetch a bag of beer. QB fell down, and he did frown, but the pack was rolling with laugher.

On top of the gravel

 Looking down from BN

We were now about three miles from the start - thirsty, hungry and sober, a nasty combination.  The only thing between us and the On-After were two enormous yet unmarked Hyper Hand Job Memorial Straightaway (HHJMS)

 Blue (used to the heat growing up closer to the equator) took off and led the pack home.  As a bunch of white people dressed in costumes followed him across the mile long viaduct it must have looked like the “guest of honor” at a Klan rally had escaped.  Near the end of the second HHJMS Butt Digger pretended to pull up lame to avoid being the first female to finish thus receiving the golden crutch.   Y= Pi was not stupid enough to fall for this and started walking just behind her.  However Dead Fuckers virgin was stupid enough to fall for this and kicked it in to the finish.  

 The Circle was a bit of a cluster as again there was no Song Meister and the RA had no idea who half of the hashers were.  If it weren’t for Butt Digger and Eats It Raw feeding him songs and names the circle would still be going. 

 The hares drank for shitty shitty trial, beer rationing at the BN’s, Unmarked HHJMS, not starting on time as is the Sin City tradition and various other transgressions real and imagined.  They should have drank for not mentioning it was a Full Moon Hash but I digress.

 The virgins drank for being virgins.

 Chicago hashers drank for competitive behavior.  Having two winning baseball teams in one city.

 Everyone shared in Song Meister duty.  But mostly it was Boner from Chicago.

 Got Crabs? finally got to drink for something though I can’t remember what it was.  He also announced that he just received his passport and was leaving to start a new hash in Nepal. 

 Dead Fucker got the golden crutch on account of his over motivated under educated virgin.

 Una kept Wile E for being Una plus we couldn’t give it to any of the visitors cause we would never see it again.

 Hot Tub Drank for not being able to come up with a song even though the only song he knows hadn’t been used yet.

 Fag Who? drank for being MIA and presumed dead.

 Hump back drank for being the entire Mismanagement of the Lexington Hash.

 The virgin (?) drank for losing her car key while she was losing her hash virginity.

 There was so much more that happened but due to the current litigation I cannot share the rest.

                                                         Anonymous