Hash Trash #1354 – Thrashing Through the Snow by Johnnie Cockring
When: Sunday, December 8, 2013 @ 1 p.m. (or thereabouts)
Hares: Amazon.cum & Blonde Roots
In the teeth of a blizzard, the pack slowly assembled. Well, it was more like a litter, actually. Crash Test Dumbass, Any Cock’ll Do Me (smartly attired in his tiger pelt pants), $5 Infection, Oedipussy & Floppy Attachment along w/ their 2 mini-hashers, and your intrepid correspondent rendezvoused at the North Pole after a harrowing ride down Daniels Drive into the Patapsco ravine. As the ferocious onslaught of the storm continued unabated, Amazon and $5, exhibiting waaaaay too much common sense for hashers, decided that the 4 rapidly growing inches already on the ground were cause enough to flee for their lives back up the treacherous ravine.
The rest of us half minds decided that it was a fine time for a beer. Or, since the hares had procured enough beer for a small army, three.
Shortly thereafter, lo and behold, Our Lord Natty Boh quieted the storm and the blizzard subsided to but mere flurries. And so, fortified w/ liquid courage, we remaining members of the litter decided that it was indeed a glorious day for a hash. After taking Blonde Roots hostage to ensure safe passage, and stuffing a beer check into our pockets, the brave litter set off on trail. All except for Floppy Attachment, who wisely decided that this was not the day to take the mini-hashers out on trail. At which point Oedipussy squealed with delight and quickly joined the departing litter w/o a backward glance. Boldly marked w/ grey flour on a snowy day, the trail was a breeze to follow. Or not.
Through a cemetery and up into the Alps we climbed. Oxygen masks recommended. After a narrow traverse and a nefarious back check, downhill we tumbled. Thank God those railroad tracks stopped us from sliding all the way into the Patapsco! Fortunately AmTrak was shut down due to the storm, so we didn’t need to dodge any bullet trains as we tracked the rails for a stretch. Then back uphill. It was at about this time that Crash Test Dumbass apparently decided that he needed to go all the way to Baltimore City for some reason, and off he went. The rest of us stopped for our pocket beer check.
And so it went. Up, down, over the river (OK, small streams) and through the woods. Unfortunately Grandmother’s house was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, the diabolical Blonde Roots developed amnesia at every false-filled check.
Finally, after 6 brutal hours on trail the bedraggled litter, battling frostbite and hypothermia, found its way back in to the A. And who should be there to greet us but that dapper bimbo hasher, A Phone Named Gerbil. Ice cold libations were served to treat our hypothermia and a 10 gallon bag of popcorn fed the ravenous litter. Songs were sung and violations were doled out (w/ Oedipussy serving as Amazon’s stunt liver) at the micro-circle, and everyone agreed that it was a good thing to have narrowly avoided being the 1st wankers in the long and checkered history of BAH3 to have cancelled a trail due to the weather.