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If you tied buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped it from a height, what would happen?
"Cool hash page"
December 2002

Hash 65 - Stupid Cupid Hash - Lansingburg, NY

When: February 21, 2004
Where: Lansingburg
Hares: Astro Homo
Scribe: Sperm Bank

It was the sixty-fifth running of the hounds, only four more hashes until the blessed 69 (yea, verily, the 69). Fifteen hashers showed up for Astro Homo’s Stupid Cupid Run. Not sure if anyone followed the theme, but it was SB2’s first anniversary with the Halve Mein Hash. In fact, their first run was from the same Hannaford parking lot on a run set by Astro. Who knew they’d be so happy, who knew the hashing would be so good, who knew…hey, even I’m going to start hurling in a minute. Anyway, fifteen hounds showed up eagerly anticipating another Astro Homo extravaganza of shiggy, including two Boston Hashers, No Vacancy and One Drunk Watching. After Astro stowed his snowshoes (a very bad sign), it was chalk talk and hare away. THFKAD led Francis, Just Dan, Sperm Bank, Stickley Bunz, McCavity, Dr. Queer, Peace O’Chum, Poptop, Kindergarten Cock, Dirtbag, No Vacancy and One Drunk Watching from Boston, and hash dog, Laurel and Hardly Running, in the perverted Father Birmingham routine that we’re actually beginning to learn the words to.

After tossing back the last swigs of a nice assortment of beers, the pack was off at a walk, filing through one of the better trailer parks in Waterford, alternately hearing Dueling Banjos and then White Trash Fever, until we checked in a school yard. The locals, with several dozen children and even less teeth, watched in amazement as a bunch of people ran aimlessly through the field following Astro’s snowshoe prints. Despite several false checks, we entered the serene, frozen forests of Waterford and then it was over hill and dale until a song check. THFKAD, Stickley, and Bank reprised “Girl from Ithaca” to the appalled amazement of those who hadn’t heard it before. Then it was off into the real shiggy. We went up steep hills, we crossed wire fences, we forded frozen streams, and we slid down ravines, always following the huge prints of AstroFoot. Eventually, the pack came to a piece of clothesline dangled down a hillside. They needed it as they hand-over-handed up the frozen slope. At the top, AstroFoot has a left a keg can of Warstiener AND NO CAN OPENER! This caused much wailing and searching for rocks until the one literate hasher among us read the directions to tap the can. We still didn’t have anything to drink out of it but real hashers made do with their hash horns while others filled empty water bottles. But it was a very convivial beer check with songs ranging from “I Worked in a Store in Chicago” to “I Gave Her Inches Song” and much socializing and sniffing butts among the hounds. But back on the trail.

The second half of the run was more of the first, but without beer. We went up steep hills, we forded frozen streams, we crossed large pipes, and we slid down ravines, always following the huge prints of AstroFoot. We found the Eagle/Turkey split and we all went Eagle because if Poptop can do it, so can we! Bad decision. The Eagle was more snow, more streams, and to top it all off, it started sleeting. The pack was cold, wet, miserable, Dirtbag was way out front blowing his horn but we couldn’t find him. Everyone was whining and THFKAD and Just Dan were leaving bloody trails in the snow from their naked, battered shins. It was something out of the Retreat from Moscow. But we persevered until finally, one hour and forty minutes later and three miles of frozen forest wasteland, we broke into a clearing and saw the Lair of the AstroFoot.

Actually, as the pack filed into the Lair, the AstroFoot was calming cooking up jambalaya and cornbread. Excepting for mud stains all over his back, he looked rested and wondering at how bloody awful we all looked. But it was warm and it was dry so the pack did not care as they gratefully took off frozen, sodden footgear and gratefully drank good Saranac beer. THFKAD rallied the group and led them out to the driveway for ceremonies. AstroFoot confessed that he had done some trail laying dead-hare, sat his butt on the gravel, and down-downed to a unanimous cheer of “shiggy-riffic”. Boston hashers No Vacancy and One Drunk Watching did a visitor down-down (and, yes, we know who made you come). One Drunk Watching earned respect for the speed of his down-down and he may be the Rainman Idiot Savant of beer drinking. FRB went to Kindergarten Cock, who was spontaneously renamed to “Kid Cock”. Kid Cock did another down-down for back sliding since he hasn’t hashed since the Red Dress. DAL went to Sperm Bank who was chatting with One Drunk Watching and raced to beat him in and so did another down-down for Racing. Just Dan, Dr. Queer, and Kid Cock committed the faux pax of wearing real running shirts and down-downed in contrition. Sperm Bank did yet another down-down out of his frozen shoe for New Shoes. Dirtbag’s pool party must have been good because Francis, Dr. Queer, McCavity, Stickley Bunz, and THFKAD down-downed for Lost Shit. Dr. Queer almost shared Hash-it with THFKAD for kicking a good looking French woman out of bed to sleep together (THFKAD’s defense was that “Dr. Queer had a great ass.” ) But Sperm Bank added Hash-it to DAL for the offenses of whining, head gear in circle, and “just because”. THFKAD closed the circle and we adjourned back into AstroFoot’s warm kitchen for the jambalaya, cornbread, and many beers. THFKAD and No Vacancy led the pack in an unprecedented songfest that included never-ending stanzas of Beastiality’s Best, I Worked in a Store in Chicago, and Yogi as AstroFoot notched another Shigapalooza in his belt! May the Hash go in peace, may the hash get a piece!


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