Rehash

             Sin Campout Weekend

             08/03/07  Brookville, Indiana

             Hares: Serving Seamen, Hot Tub Slut and Elvis

            Erstwhile and intrepid hashers Serving Seamen and Three Way Time had been at the campground since around noon.  As new hashers arrived they greeted each and everyone of them with a heartfelt “Got any beer!?”  For you see, an I know this is hard to believe, there had been some miscommunication between halfminds as to when (and how much but that’s another story) the beer should arrive.  Flaming Pickle Licker and TNT showed up with a couple bottles of beer and were immediately voted King and Queen of the Camp.  There was much rejoicing, as these beers would surely tide them over until Da Gimp arrived with Da Barrels.   They couldn’t have been more wrong.   Less than fifteen minutes later the mood had shifted dramatically.  Seaman was in the fetal position on the edge of the river cradling an empty bottle mumbling “The horror, The horror.”  Three Way realizing canoeist = beer was taking a more proactive approach and had fashioned a sign reading “Will flash for food” and had taken up position at the end of a bend in the river  in  her now famous “Itsy bitsy teeny weenie multi colored  dot bikini”.  Unfortunately TNT had positioned herself at the beginning of the bend with her sign “Will flash for free!”.   Which brings us to an old saying.  “Why pay for the mole hill when the mountains are free?!”. 

             As people began to trickle in Tent City was formed.  Happy Endings showed up along as did I’m not gay and his twin brother  Fat, Drunk and Stupid (who looked like he had never even seen a tent before much less set one up).  GAR and Pubic Zirconium pitched their “Tent Mahal” in Uptown. TNT,  with the help of Fluffer, did the same. The Unalicker set her “Tent-ament”  up in the projects and immediately raised her “I claim this camp in the name of Michigan” flag (which was promptly and rightfully stolen). Early Withdraw set his even smaller tent up in the projects next to Una.  Someone’s under compensating.  Elvis set his tent up way off in the suburbs of Tent City because he snores loud and in Russian.  NHN ______ set his tent up far off in the country because he has sex loud and in Goose Bumps!

            At around 5:00 PM Da Gimp arrived with the beer and everyone helped him unload to speed up the tapping process.  It wasn’t until everything was offloaded that he mentioned the beer couldn’t be tapped for an hour because of its long and bumpy journey.  To pass the time and prepare for a weekend of roughing it, TNT and Happy Ending gave themselves a manicure and pedicure.  Eventually running out of their own fingers and toes they moved on to painting I’m Not Gay’s (who didn’t see that coming?).

           The beer was now flowing and everyone was having a great time except for the hares. They were a bit nervous because ever since the Friday Night Campout Trail of 2005, hared by Vommit Dog and Wrong Nut, the pack wouldn’t settle for just a brisk walk and river crossing.  At Precisely 7:00, as is the Sin City tradition of punctuality, the Hares were away.  It was a bit of a deja  vu from last year as they HEADed straight out of camp, through the woods, across the field, through the river and up the hill at the bridge.  There was a grumble from the back of the pack when the DFL’s saw the FRB’s turn left at a check after the bridge and continue down last years trail.  Their grumbles turned to laughter as they saw the entire pack heading back towards them when they reached the check.  Trail was indeed not a replay of last year as it actually went 180 degrees the other direction along a cornfield.  We were about a mile into the jog around the Hyper Hand Job Memorial Corn Field, when there was a conversation amongst the pack about the merits of running around the cornfield instead of through it.  Fat, Drunk and Stupid, a native Nebraskan, pointed out running through corn would rip these delicate city folk to shreds. Evidently not everyone was as scared to do things in the corn.  After another mile or so we came to a check.  To the right was a cliff leading down to the river.  Straight ahead was boredom and to the left was the city slicker shredding corn.  The pack was at a loss.  Just then a breeze kicked up and the corn started to rustle and there was a whisper that seemed to come from the cornfield.  It said.  “If you lay it, they will cross”. Was it our imagination? Was it the spirit of Gispert there to guide us? It was just like field of dreams but we were short James Earl Jones to lead the way into the corn.  We had previously received “adapt and overcome training” from NILF, Elephant Tight Ass and the rest of the Marines. So instead of sending a fat black guy into the corn we sent a fat guy and a black guy. (FDS and Blue).  Eats It Raw was the last hasher through the corn and he said either the FRB’s didn’t hear the voice or attributed it to the fact that they forgot to take their Prozac that morning.  Either way Vommit, DAGimp, QB, Tight Ass, and the rest just kept going straight at the check.  After the corn came a beer near behind Hot Tub Slut’s childhood home, where TNT snared a hare.  We spent a lot of time at the beer near. Perhaps because we were making up for the late arriving beer.  More likely it was because we knew that Elvis and Seaman were now forced to carry Hot Tub as Y=Pi found his walker. Blue tempted fate by playing on a rope in a tree in Redneckville, USA.  Happy and Pickle did a little Auto Hashing and NILF just took a moment to himself.

            After a long while the pack took off again and actually ran on some roads for a while but that didn’t last long.  The trail left the safety and painlessness of the road for the less safe and more painful cliff full of nettles down to the creek and a nettle removing party.  For the next 5 or so miles the trail went thusly: creek, nettle, creek, nettle, creek, nettle. Hasher conversation when thisly?  Bitch, cuss, bitch, cuss, bitch cuss.  Every time we left the creek bed the way out seemed to get a bit more precarious, once requiring the Herculean efforts of our Hash Hero Pubic Zirconium to get us out. While waiting his turn to be helped out of the "creek of despair", Fat Drunk and Stupid took time out to race a turtle (since there was no hare in sight).  As we struggled more through the unstable footing that is a loose rock creek bed  Early Withdrawal yelled “There’s a hare arrow up there on that tree”.  Early seems like a well-adjusted reasonable person. So we took him at is word and climbed the hill.  This was not a walk up run of the mill hill.  This was an on all fours, root grabbing, avalanche starting get religion kind of climb.  It wasn’t until we reached the top and found no marks that Early admitted he had also at times seen the following:  The Virgin Mary in a Grilled cheese sandwich, Jesus in a potato chip and Elvis (the one that OD’d not ours) in a tortilla.  By the time we got back to the bottom the wayward FRBs had caught up to us and we were again DFLs as God had intended.  We were walking in the reeds along the river when we stumbled upon a baby floating in the river in a basket.  He had a sign that read “Hi, my name is Moses”.  We were just about to pick him up when Vommit yelled “Beer near!”.  I wonder what ever became of that baby? Oh well.  We took the BN into the river and were having a nice cool relaxing time, until Hot Tub came back and asked where the hell we had been.  When we told him of our side trip up the Brown Cliffs of Rover he said matter of factly, “I didn’t put an arrow up there”.  Having determined that Early had officially lost the last half of his mind we headed back to camp.  Elvis immediately got a roaring fire going as the temperature had dropped into double digits.

            We got the circle going and the hares drank for a shitty trail.  Relax Vommit and Wrong Nut the legend that is the trail of 2005 lives on unsurpassed for yet another year. I will say that this was a very strong second!  

             Early drank for his Medjugorje-esque Hare Arrow sighting.  (ask NILF or Son of a Nun)

            Da Gimp drank and received Wile for his Tardy Beer run.

            The turtle drank for competitive behavior (kicking  FDS’s ass in the creek race)

            The hares drank for taking us through a swamp like pool of what Scum Sucking Fecal Feeliac determined to be “at best….not good”.

            There were birth and hash analversaries. Missed beer nears and the like.  I don’t really remember what.

            After circle was closed there was some serious beer drinking done.  NILF drank till he fell off the sobriety log, then developed the 1,000-yard stare and went to bed.  Seamen went the other way with her inebriation.  She sang and danced and fire jumped and sang and sang and sang…you get the picture.  At one point she went around telling people to go to bed so she could be one of the last five to be awake.  It was like the energizer bunny fell off the wagon and forgot to take his Ritalin on the same day.  Three Way, FDS, ING and Hyper Hobbit (aka Seaman) did a nice “Summer Loving” parody. Hot Tub moped because the Midnight Naked runs were still 24 hours away.  John Wayne Hobbit took Three Way time on in multiple rounds of “stupid drunk tricks”.  By all accounts she was kicking his ass till the naked fire jumping round was started by Elvis. Goosebumps made a burnt bread and cherry pie-filling sandwich.  Early taught Seaman how to jitterbug.  Blue taught everyone how to Reggae and for the first time I saw Eats It toasted.  Y left to go home to her kids swearing she would be back for Saturday’s hashes.

            The rest of the story is only legal to tell in two states, and this aint one of them!

                Happy Trails and we’ll pick up again in the morning.

                      Anonymous