What: Tornado Alley Hash #1195
When: Tuesday, May 14th, 6:30 pm.
Hare: Born on Your Anus
Hash Cash: $3
Hounds: Puff, ASS, NBA, Tina, PPL, BP, Kibbles, Hummer, Tequila, PBR, Down Wind, nnMike, Dip for the pre-lube and part of the circle
I have had a suspicion growing for quite a while, but this hash confirmed my suspicions. Born On Your Anus does not like us. At least, he appears to be trying to kill one or two of us on these trails he's subjecting us to lately.
Trail started from Quincy's, 21st and West St., and meandered off to the south and eventually took us near the zoo. Fortunately for us, the rattlesnakes that probably hibernate in the rocks under the overpasses have evidently not awakened, because no hounds were bitten as we tripped and fell over the rocks searching for trail. Up on the other side of the Big Ditch, we espied two of Wichita's finest who had pulled over a poor schmuck and were busy writing tickets. They seemed to be watching us and were evidently waiting for us to do something stupid like jaywalk. Which we did. But we probably intimidated them with our lightning speed and stunning athleticism and we were out of sight before their befuddled eyes and brains could assimilate our awesomeness. It was at this point we lost Tequila Tony who evidently has a deadly allergy to po-po. Bypassing the constabulary, TT eventually found some sort of trail of his own, and met us back at the on-in.
Back to trail......the diabolical hare took trail off to the north through a tick-infested scrubby field and, evidently he felt he might run out of flour for trail, so he threw precious little. Our token Native American trail tracker, NBA, was able to follow her native ancestors' tracking instincts and locate the blobs of flour that the hare left on some puny trees. Lo and behold, we discovered the ONE beer-near on a block of native Kansas styrofoam which probably dated back to the Pleistocene era, located at the edge of some abandoned quarry lake. True-trail took us straight across the lake to the opposite side. We eventually found trail on the other side which then led us to a junkyard. The hare decided we needed to illegally trespass this junkyard and made us climb over a locked fence that was booby-trapped with barbed wire and other rusted protruding wires. Once we got past the junkyard, trail took us up a sheer cliff, down a sheer drop-off, through poison-ivy-infested undergrowth, up another sheer cliff (which with one mis-step would have sent us down into another little lake). Fortunately, we did not lose any hounds, which was much to the chagrin of the hare. Trail then took us back to the Big Ditch and eventually to the on-in under the I-235 overpass.
Our RA, once again, had abandoned us at circle, and we had to make-do with the (in)abilities of, first, NBA, and then, BOYA. BOYA, by the way, is taking sadism lessons from Dip and is excelling at flinging insults at the hapless hounds. We paid homage to the passing of Angelina Jolie's breasts, and then we drank beer and sang songs and introduced our Canadian visitor with the delights of dead bugs. After circle ended, we proceeded with the interrogation of nnMike, who delighted us with an excessive amount of naming material. However, we could not agree on a name, and we will continue the process at the next hash. On on.