Trash - Run #394
Date: Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
Location: Ville St. Laurent
Hash Scribe: Kristal Tits
Those present: Wendy, Dead Animal, Foxy Lady, Sinnerbad, SLOC, Slit Digger, Jiffy Lube, Just Just Lance, Just Katie, Just Eeyore, Just ‘the other cat’, Deep Bush, Krystal Tits, Abbot, Skinflint, Pop-a-Weenie, Flipper, Fig Leaf, Mustapha Kunt, Mudsticker, Boner, Passes Wind, Organ Grinder, Dead Dick, Chili Bones, Hot Rod, Humper.
It seems that most of Fig Leaf’s hash Sundays start of with some confusion. This time, he was dragging down Hot Rod with him, and I was only privy to a last-minute frantic phone call asking for detailed PUBLIC TRANSIT directions. He got himself and the Man From Kent (Hot Rod’s pseudonym) lost and more confused, but even with all that, he managed to get to the run before me. I guess I must be over-exaggerating the seriousness of their situation.
By the time I got there, the hares had all left… but there it was, clear on the snow like baby vomit on an off-white bib, the “slawks mixtshure” (SLOC’s Mixtureä) to be followed. Deep Bush and I diligently followed it for half a windy (again as in “long and windy road” AND windy, rhymes with Cindy) block before we spotted latecomers Dead Dick and Chili Bones.
Chili Bones gone back to find shelter and Deep Bush taking a leisurely stroll through the construction site, it was just Dead Dick and I to find trail once we had stepped out of the compound. Like stepping off the edge of the world, we had exited the safety of the residential complex and started dodging cars as we crossed the busy road. On the other side, one mark, enticing, reassuring, resplendent in all its faint orangeness. Ten minutes later, another mark, teasing, mocking, clear on the other side of the shopping mall. This always makes for interesting trail and interesting circle talk. No doubt SLOC had that in mind while setting trail, or he was trying to develop our psychic abilities.
Knowing a thing or two about SLOC’s personal trail-setting philosophy, I made Dead Dick turn around once we were 25 blocks clear of the on in, knowing that the trail could go on some time still before turning back.
I outsprinted Dead Dick to the finish line and we saw Sinnerbad stepping out of a taxi, handing the driver a twenty. Turns out Abbot had lent her the money. He would have also taken the taxi in, but he was too busy watching Fig Leaf foul the trail right then. While that was going on, Skinflint and Flipper were busy trying to get their relatively new/clean shoes dirty with moist SLOC’s Mixtureä. That would have been sinning enough for one day, but during that time, not too far away, they were pulling a black Nissan with tinted windows out of a ditch. Inside the trunk, a grizzly discovery: the hacked at corpse of Dr. Delight. We were mid-circle when they came to arrest a certain Mr. Kunt.
As for down downs, some went to Slit Digger for being such a good sport and hosting the lot of us, for being a hare, for being silly enough to co-hare with SLOC. One went to Just Just Lance for believing his daughter Jiffy Lube that this was all on the up and up, and that yes it was safe to go down to the basement with the entire band of drunks. A down down to Dead Animal for having a mid-week orgy with twenty-five pink flying elephants, and finally, the Cincinnati Crutch has been awarded to a first Montreal hasher, Dead Dick, for being Dead F*cking Last (DFL).
Happy trails ye wankers
Note: Since the trash editor is on vacation getting laid in Cuba
(we hope), the MH3 cannot be held accountable for the veracity
of this report.