SH3 Hash Trash

 

Vol. 2, No. 4                                                                                                      Hash No. 14

Hash Date:     3 April 2004

Scribe:            Nothing’s Hung Like A Deere (w/ ghost scribe Nuclear Semen)

 

 

            This hash marked the one year anniversary of hashing in Socorro – and what a memorable anniversary it was!  To help celebrate (actually, they just came to see whether or not we measure up to true hashing standards), members of the Albuquerque Hash House Harriers (AH3) made the journey down to Socorro to join us locals on our epic journey.  The AH3’s were told to dress appropriately for the “backwater” little town of Socorro (i.e., hillbilly style).  Returning the favor, we dressed up for them “big city folk.”  A record 20 (that’s all the fingers and toes I’ve got – hope we don’t get more or I’ll lose count!) hashers turned out (true, 10 were AH3’s) to brave the “wild west” countryside of Socorro.  Visitors included Kitty Fucker (hmmm?), Cock Pit (even more interesting!), Certified Porn Actress (this I’d have to see), Fried Green Tits (not a pretty thought!), Pretty In Pink (prove it!), Sal Fortunado (fortu-what?… I guess you had to be there for that naming… just like Virtual), Strip Tease Driver (STD) (and I thought people on cell phones were a problem), Flaming Beaver Cleaver (or something Cleaver), Boneyard (a name with many possibilities), and Cumoniwanaleiya (and did you?).  For the home team Virtual Clinton, Nothing’s Hung Like A Deere, Second Hand Dyke, Father Snowball (dragging along a NEW virgin?), Just Glenn, Just Jason, Just Steve, Virgin Iliana (yeah, right!), and Virgin Rob (a Las Cruces visitor made to “come” by Nothing… and Second Hand).  Of course, we can’t forget Hell’s Fairy who was picked up on trail (must have been in the red light district).  ANOTHER HASHER PICKED UP ON TRAIL!!!  AND THIS ONE “CAME” WITH A NAME, NO LESS!!!!

            After a round of introductions, a few pitchers, and a toast to the absent religious advisor, Papa Don’t Preach (this is becoming a habit!), and scribe, Nuclear Semen (ahhh!… absent, but not forgotten!), Nothing… and Just Glenn, hares for a day, left while the pack did as packs do (usually sniffing around posteriors) until the obligatory 15 minute head start was met.  The pack knew it was going to be a long day as they left the Brewery for the chalk talk to find a big “YBF” waiting for them.  Well……. the hares warned us that, “It’s a long one.”  (Doesn’t anybody pay attention to what the hares say??)

            From the Brewery, the pack headed over to the gazebo on the Plaza for a photo op (already getting lazy, huh?) before trying to sniff out the trail.  All were guessing that was what the big “P” near the gazebo stood for (Virtual Clinton couldn’t clarify otherwise… despite being instructed by Nothing… That’s a down-down for sure!).  Once the photo session wrapped up (hope everyone smiled big & pretty), the pack headed west and then up Neel towards New Mexico Tech.  Along Neel, the pack encountered the first of several “turkey/eagle” splits.  While the “turkeys” continued up Neel, the “eagles” (damned FRB’s!) meandered around between Neel and School of Mines before reaching the first BN at Virtual Clinton’s house (and did the hares get permission, Virtual?).  The turkeys, delayed by a check, finally reached the BN after watching the action on the rugby pitch (bet the ruggers would have enjoyed a bit of brew about then).  As luck would have it, there was a left over keg from the previous night (a good reason for an “impromptu” BN… by the way, Virtual, is that all you guys do at your house?… oh, yes they ride bikes around the house as well).  The AH3’s led the group in song, including Bestiality’s Best, The Monks of St. Bernard, Yogi the Bear (the ruggers could probably teach everyone some new verses to that one).  Maybe we should have just stopped at the rugby pitch and called it a hash!

            After giving the hares another 10 minute head start, the pack took off towards the campus (and the unsuspecting science fair folk).  Not far was another “turkey/eagle” split, which allowed the slow folk (some runners, too) a short cut.  Pretty In Pink led the charge of the “turkeys” (sure wasn’t anything like the Charge of the Light Brigade!), and he actually caught sight of the hares.  Though unable to catch them, he managed to bypass much of the trail (yeah, it ain’t right; but you gotta’ do what you gotta’ do!) and lead a few of the FRB’s to the next BN at the golf course grill.  The “eagles,” on the other hand, following proper protocol (don’t you know that rules were made to be broken?), arrived two beers later after a visit to President Lopez’s house (bet there was some beer there… and no one at home!), a close encounter of the feather kind (bestiality with geese), and a mystifying back check.

            While at the second BN, the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder (Nothing…, that’s the proper sequence for those things!) preceded the wail of the golf course’s siren, warning golfers (and most other sane people) to get off the course (how prescient!).  We hashers, meanwhile, continued to chug-a-lug, giving the hares another obligatory head start.  Soon the pack was off and running, following Father Snowball.  Shortly after, the skies opened up and, in addition to rain, hail began to fall!  Hail on trail – has a nice ring to it (but not a crime)!  Second Hand Dyke bitched and moaned about her bare arms being pelted by the BB-sized hail (wah, wah, wahhhhhhh!!!!!).  After another “unauthorized” shortcut through the golf course, another “turkey/eagle” split was encountered.  Everyone chose (thank you, rain) to be “eagles” and run through the shiggy and cacti towards Tech Hill.  Reaching the end of the neighborhood, the trail headed east near the married housing to a second “P” stop.  By this point, a photo op was out of the question, as the walkers, who were far behind, had the cameras and the rest of the pack complained of shrinkage (think mighty “big” of yourselves, eh?) and headlights (and that’s a problem???).  It was f*&#ing cold!!!  Taking off back towards campus, down the hill, and right at St. Paul’s, the pack arrived at the final BN at Nothing… and Second Hand Dyke’s house.

            There, prolonged singing and dancing ensued.  The first of several rounds of Who Put The Suck In Socorro was sung and Second Hand Dyke was dubbed Hash Queen.  An enthusiastic pack serenaded the Queen, her faithful followers, and her neighbors (Hi, Rheda!)!  It was at this point that Father Snowball and Virgin Iliana departed under the pretense of having work to do - “hard” work.  They deserve a down-down next hash for that “crime” (they also need to be followed with a hidden camera!).  A few more songs and dry clothes followed.  At this point, due to rain and hail (and a host of other excuses), the hares declared that they were out of “proper” flour… “We have bags of dough.”  An ON-IN was declared and the pack headed towards the Capitol Bar. [Hence, the “little A” to “capital A” course description at the beginning.  Please, explain this one to me, Nothing…  I missed the punch line.  – Nuclear] [Nothing’s… response: AH3 declares at the beginning of each hash whether or not it is “A to A” (meaning loop or there-and-back) or “A to B” (meaning the final BN is not where you started).  I told them that, since it was “almost” an “A to A” (Brewery to Cap), it was really an “a to A” (Capital A, referencing the Cap again).  Get it?  Got it?  Good.] [Okay, I understand now.  Way to dodge their question.  I think it should always be a surprise as to where it will end – if ever!  - Nuclear]

            The “Cap” was reached, but not before “pressing the flesh” on Papa Don’t Preach’s window with the local constables present (was that E.P.???… hope so).  With brew and tunes ordered, the pack circled up for religion.  Virtual Clinton graciously led the “circle jerk,” progressing through “points of lager” and awarding appropriate down-downs.  Nothing… and Just Glenn took their down-downs in stride, as did Virgin Rob (and those who made him “come”).  Just Amber was chastised for not “coming” to the last hash and given a down-down.  A respite for the locals, as our guests from “the big city” got to down-down (there was a whole buncha’ them).  About then, pandemonium broke out (as far as Nothing… can remember… Man, you ask someone to carry the ball and they fumble just before they score!) as various parties were made to down-down so as to leave no one out (it wouldn’t be a proper “jerk” if they were).  Accusations were made and counter-accusations were returned with those who “screwed up” drinking until all were “tanked.”  With a chorus of Swing Low and Nothing… leading all in the Hash Prayer (Our lager, Who art in barrels.  Hallowed be thy drink… Thy will be drunk, I WILL be drunk, at home as it is in the pub…), the 1st Anniversary SH3 Hash was officially concluded.

            With things in order – pictures taken, beer “dranken,” music playin’, and pizza plans layin’ – the motley crew departed the “Cap” and headed, once again through the pouring rain, to the Brewery where food and drink were ordered, congratulations given, and various patrons embarrassed (most of the local patrons should know us by now and not be the least bit surprised).

            Thanks to our hares, Nothing’s Hung Like A Deere (got that, Pit Cock?) and Just Glenn and to all our guests – the AH3’s (making the long drive to visit their country cousins) and Just Rob (who made an even longer drive).  Y’all come back now, ya’hear!!!

 

ON ON!!!

 

[Thanks to Second Hand Dyke and Nothing… (or for nothing) for providing the notes (and most of the storyline).]

 

Next Hash Date:        TBD

Next Hash Hares:      TBD