Hash Trash #983

Hash House Harriers

From the land of pleasant shiggy

TRASH: Run #983
February 11, 2007
Hare: Ranger Dick

there I was, standing in a bare, wind-swept parking lot listening to a gnome-like creature muttering about flour and strange markings. without a lot of fanfare he sent us off in a southerly direction, I was channeling a hasher, formerly known as "zipper", so I went in an easterly direction (zenning I think its called). I soon happened upon flour, eureka !, but it didn't me long to discover that I was running (actually sauntering) the trail backwards. since I was cold & alone in the vast wilderness of the car dealerships of West Street, I said "AYC lets go home". that brings a tear to my eye still so I turned around & hustled back to the warmth of my truck. as I passed the bar "shehas Biggins" I spied the gnome-like creature sitting all alone at the bar. being a compassionate soul (& knowing he had beer) I decided to join him. before long we were joined by a mysterious man in black, reputedly it was Maddog, but I'm not sure. he was clad in body armor with a kevlar helmet, like a clandestine spy from a Clancy novel doing undercover work. he departed rather quickly muttering about future plans involving bikes & woods. as I digested that bit of info another creature from the past popped in. the tree-hugger himself, Johnnie Cockring decided to grace our humble hash with his presence. it was truly a magical moment as he gimped through the bar bestowing his blessings on us lowly hashers. I know I can't speak for everyone but I felt my spirits rise as he moved among us. (actually my spirits rose when the bartender, Chelsea, bent over to get me a beer but don't tell Johnnie). after many beers & much rejoicing Johnnie & I decided that a re-naming was in order, so from here forward the indominable T.B. is known as "Anna Nicole Tackle Box"

just kidding, but its a funny name


At Your Cervix

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