Hashers gathered on a beautiful, misty day in the highlands to honour the patron saint of Ireland and hunt the notorious Little People. Most were lacking the recommended shillaghles, cudgels, and firearms, but some were finely costumed. Double Hump was armed like a zulu warrior and tried to puncture Digger's butt and Cinderella's tire with a dart from his blow gun. Despite Digger's suggestion of starting without a hare, the pack waited patiently until Chieftain Stoolie emerged from the gloom like a demented apparition from Full Metal Jacket. Double Hump ran a tight circle and welcomed virgins Tara (Double's niece) and Monique (Bite My Nuts made her cum and she professed that her parents were former hashers with VH3 or Vancouver Hash or knew someone who hashed or read about hashing or dreamed about hashing or something).
The hare proudly displayed a wriggling bag of wee people he had captured. Untold riches were promised to those astute hashers able to find and capture the remaining hidden Little People of the forest. A pot of gold was rumored to be on the mountain, albeit sans rainbow. Hashers intently ignored the hare's extensive, careful instructions on how not to get lost and frig up the complicated double figure eight live haring trail laid with clearly unmarked signage.
Beaver Fever's towering flame was clad in a majestic green cape, a Super Leprechaun for whom the Little People left offerings in the flour trail markings, including animal excrement, live slugs, and a miniature skull from one of their own.
The hare out-did himself with multiple checks, false trails, triple parallel lines. The rain came down in buckets and the runners were soon struggling to remember Stoolie's instructions before succumbing to hypothermia. Meanwhile the uninformed BLAB Grateful Head was exploring every limb of Stoolie's baffling trail to catch the hashing rabble. Thanks to advice from Itchy and the hare (who was himself quite lost), Head caught up with the dripping, nearly-unhinged group just as they picked their way up and down a loop of salal and deadfall, landing right in the crotch of Stoolie's figure 8, exclaiming "We've been here before!"
Smelling familiar territory, the lost hare emerged from the dumping rain in an utterly disoriented, near catatonic state. Insults and blame were traded. The walkers were nowhere to be found. On Stoolie's direction, Hashers climbed a steep, wet pitch to get to the beer check, pausing briefly to straddle a big, long, wet, and mossy log. Rachel was first to summit and found a pot of gold at the end of… well, more clouds… but in the pot was some fine old whiskey that was promptly ingested by all and saved more than one life.
Spirits were high during the downhill run to wet Religion, where a few resounding verses of Shitty Trail were chanted before charging and Little People awards began. Stoolie was both honored and chastised for his work as hare and herring, and was downed repeatedly. Kitty Licker had nary a dry spot on him but was all smiles with the Wanker Cup as he and Rachel were charged with "training." Stroke Alone downed from his own shoe for the offense of its newness. Stoolie charged Grateful Head for being a BLAB, but Digger awarded a reversal to acknowledge that she even found the trail. Itchy was awarded the fine Wanker of the Week shirt for losing control of the walkers, and the accusations flew and spewed until Dookie put on a hat and barked "Pog mo thoin!" (Smell my butt! in dog-Gaelic.)
On-afters were held at the Log House Pub, where Dusty Bag kindly bought a pitcher for the drunken rabble. Great to see Dusty up and about! It's a fabulous hash when we all end up wet and even the hare gets lost! GH missed the beginning and owes Deep Shit a grateful… acknowledgment… for contributing fodder to the write-up. Mistakes and omissions are entirely the fault of the Little People.
On on!
GH