Deep Shit is acting scribe as Grateful is resting her Head on basaltic pillows in Alaska.
Lord Stanley would have wet himself with pride as hashers gathered to honour Canada's "national winter sport" on a smoking hot day in the middle the Stanley Cup playoffs. Not even hashers can argue with the law of the land .
A slightly fatigued (read totally bedraggled) Double Hump dragged his tired ass to the top of Mount Tolmie to start the pack in search of true spiritual enlightenment (read appreciation of hockey) and a magical touring bus.
After a slow start waiting for Stoolie and Cocks A Fallen to plant the beer and a lengthy period of general confusion, there was nowhere to go but down from the mount. Lakey did her best Moses impersonation and found five dollars worth of commandments which would not be enough fare for the mystery bus.
The trail wound through the wilds of Uplands where hashers found themselves thinking "Wish I could afford that house or garage or garden shed or bush". One fine household provided a special doggie bucket where Dukie enjoyed a refreshing drink. Cinderella and Duke were tuckered puppies by the time the hash reached the Oak Bay Tea Party. Cindy later remarked that people kept offering water for his thirsty pooch and beer for him. Who says rich folks don't have a heart?
The hash struggled through many miles of grueling trail with only scantily clad nubile babes on Willows Beach as distraction for the lack of shiggy. We raced through the crowd at the Oak Bay Tea Party and gazed longingly at the beer garden. However, it was not to be as we had miles to go before we drank.
After many more miles (did I mention that this was a particularly long hash?) the rabble arrived at the Holy Grail of hockey, the former site of Oak Bay's historic Patrick Arena, where the Victoria Cougars beat the Montreal Canadiens to win the 1924-25 Stanley Cup. Double Hump quizzed the hash on when the arena burned to the ground? Always on the ball, Sumpyton responded with "about an hour after it was lit". The other right answer is in the early morning of November 11, 1929. The hash paid homage to the cup and stared in reverence at the monument.
It was at this point that Double explained about the slight technical miscalculation: the bus that he had expected to ferry the hash back to the beer check didn't run on Saturday! The hash was divided on how to get to the golden nectar. FFRB Stroke Alone took off up Foul Bay Road with Jonners, Deep Shit, Stoolie, Plumbers Mate, Digger,
Little Blow Peep and a few other souls in hot pursuit. Cocks A Fallen saved the day by ferrying the rest of the hashers to the beer check in his Smart Car.
The circle on top of Mount Tolmie was most scenic and the beer flowed freely. Charges included:
Double transformed into Reverend Sun Young Moon and went on a naming rampage. What's that line about absolute power corrupting absolutely? The namings were:
By the time the circle concluded, Duke was tired of all the female hashers trying to get into his bed. BUB snuggled up one last time before he went home for some much needed rest. It's the same old story once you have your nuts removed!
The rabble retired to the Smuggler's Cove for some beer and food served by a friend of Stoolie's. The Senators won the hockey game and the missing mystery bus was soon a distant memory. Lord Stanley can rest in peace!
On on!
Deepshit