Hash No. 95
Hares: Daily Newd, Buster Hymen, Chuck Norris
Beer Truck Driver: Lady Longlegs
Harriers: I Do … For Now; BJU; Seven Seconds; One in the Pink, One in
the Stink; NFHN Steve; NFHN James; NFHN Elizabeth; Needle Thruster; I
Waited For This?; She’s Hot, I’m Not; No Fuckin’ Hardware; Chair
Banger; NFHN Thad; Busted Cummer; Meat Lover; TMI; Rubber Commando;
NFHN Blake; NFHN Monique; NFHN Ronnie; Bloody Johnson; Red-Headed Slut
The 95th running of the Upstate Hash House Harriers, a/k/a the Daily
Newd-Chuck Norris Surprise Birthday Hash, began as all hashes do, with
copious amounts of the amber fluid, in this case, Thomas Creek Ale.
Unfortunately, Santa Claus wasn’t able to be present to pour as he was
still at his winter home in St. Kitts. So a 10-year-old was drafted
from a nearby soccer game for that duty.
Our hares, Buster Hymen and Daily Newd, were gathering the harriers to
review the trail markings when the realization struck that this was a
virgin-less Hash! Notable on its own, the lack of virgins rendered
many Hashers uninterested and lethargic toward the whole silly thing.
On a brighter note, the pre-hash shenanigans resulted in many new and
exciting (not funny, mind you) Chuck Norris jokes. Soon-to-be classics
like “Chuck Norris went to the Virgin Islands and when he left they
were known simply as the Islands” and “If you can see Chuck Norris,
he’s already seen you” and “Chuck Norris doesn’t need to read a book,
he stares down the book until it tells him the contents.”
Hash humor at its finest.
The Hares were blessed by our RA…wait – No Cocky didn’t show up!
Instead, the blessing of the Hares was performed somewhat haphazardly
by a couple of random thugs. And then they were off. After a leisurely
10 minutes, the harriers sped off, tearing across highway 276 with no
thought of life or limb. The first section of trail proved to be shigg-
a-licous. Involving briars, brambles and the perennial hash favorite,
mud, this section also led to an undoubtedly interesting conversation
between Seven Seconds and his fiancé when later that evening he was
forced to explain the cuts and gashes on his private parts that
resulted from landing squarely on a very large briar tree. Red-Headed
Slut ran so fast in her sprint to become FRB that she quite literally
busted out her shoe. In the end a Chuck Norris disciple dressed in
karate duds was the FRB.
Then there were the dogs. Normally the mere mention of dogs on trail
will cause the avid reader to envision snarling, barking beasts that
threatened the very lives of our hashers. But not today. Today our
harriers were joined by hounds of a friendlier nature. Three furry
friends accompanied their masters and made the trek in record time. By
all accounts the dogs had a great time.
As the Hash continued towards beer stop No. 2, the hounds ran down.
They ran up, they ran left, they ran right. Over hill and through dale
to the little white truck they ran. In the final stretch, with beer in
sight, Bloody Johnson hoisted his dog-friend over a gate and in a
strong effort to be the FRB they ran with reckless abandon. But to no
avail; the FRB this stop was No Fuckin’ Hardware as he tore down the
trail only to seriously injure his unmentionables in a last-ditch
effort to bound effortlessly over a last ditch into the waiting arms
of a down-down.
After a long and seemingly inexplicable absence by hare Buster Hymen,
the hares set out again to confuse, befuddle and generally lose the
pack. The first attempt came quickly, at a bench at the lake where the
flour was clearly marked “CB11.” The pack retreated from whence they
had come; counting 11 hashes backward around the lake. All the pack
counted back except for four tenacious young explorers (Seven Seconds,
Bloody Johnson, Needle Thruster and No Fuckin’ Hardware) who threw
caution to the wind as they casually vaulted the fence in a valiant
effort to gain ground on the hares via an unmarked, bush-whacked
trail. As individuals these may well be accomplished, noteworthy men –
but when mob-mentality took over the ill-conceived quest began: down
unnecessary additional trail, up steep hills, through mental hospitals
and trailer parks, past meth-crazed Travelers Resters until finally,
finally a hasher’s head was seen in the distance. The beer stop was
found and Bloody Johnson earned a down-down for being FRB.
Before setting out again, the pack noticed that some hashers were
still on trail after an incredibly long time. This group of lost
hashers was to become known as “Stevenson’s Folly” as search party
after search party was sent out only to return with no signs of life.
Fear not, dear reader: Most of them survived to attend the On-In.
As the pack approached the On-In they noticed that Travelers Rest
police officers had surrounded the compound and were placing
themselves in strategic positions to observe and record their actions.
In an apparent move to throw off the fuzz, the hashers circled up in
broad daylight, in full view of the police and the world. What a fine
sight that must have been, to come across a couple dozen grown men and
women, dogs, karate students and flour-covered hares in a circle,
drinking from green-plastic mugs and singing. Many hash crimes were
punished and down-downs were downed. As there were neither virgins nor
namings, the Circle went fast. Needle Thruster volunteered a
celebratory birthday joke “Daily Newd went to the Islands and when he
returned they were known as the Virgin Islands.”
The Pack agreed that Needle Thruster had had one too many down-downs.
waterfront estate of Daily Newd and Lady Longlegs to further celebrate
Newd’s big day. And so concluded the 95th running of the Upstate Hash
House Harriers which should go down in the anus of history as the
first Mexican, German, tattooed dog, Olympic-quality kayaking, cross-
country-driving, Chuck Norris loving, no virgin, no naming, really
yummy Bratwurst Hash.
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