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Wednesday 07/01/2015 #1260

Claim to Flame, Goldicox & Puke Halt @ Shrewsbury

Hash Trash:

'The Scariest Hash I’ve Ever Been To'
By How Do You Like My Headlights NOW!


Let me preface with Locknut & I have co-hared some crazy pee your pants scary trails, which may include wearing evil clown masks and hiding in storm tunnels & corn fields and may have scared the bejeezus out of some unsuspecting hashers. This trail was crazy scary in a more real way, and I’m still unsure about whether the hares are quite aware as to just how terrifying this trail was at times. A few people faced near death experiences and I am just glad that we all survived. This is a depiction of true events that occurred on Wednesday, July 1, 2015.

We met in the decayed parking lot for Rothman Furniture on Watson. Storms were predicted to hit at any moment this evening, but a decent crowd still gathered to hash. A tiny keg of really old Mich Ultra was tapped, the beers started flowing, and festive conversations were rolling, including a strange tale that TrainWreck was telling about injuries on trail and using maggots to eat the dead flesh off of wounds. Looking back, this is definitely creepy foreshadowing of what was to come later.

Disco circled everyone up and brought the hares in for chalk talk. It was here that we were promised lots of shiggy, dangerous situations that included climbing things and were told to leave no hasher behind because of the obstacles that lay ahead. The hares were blessed, and though Peepole gallantly delivered the legendary memory stick chock full of Pink Dress Run Photos (they DO exist!) he did not have his camera. Eye Swallow was busy on her phone in circle, and Fake Bake yelled, “Quit liking things on Facebook and take the damn grope shot!” (Bossy Fake Bake is scary too!) So we groped up and the hares were on out.

As we waited for the hares 30 minutes head start, we noticed overhead that to the east it was black as night and full of lightening. Then I noticed that overhead the clouds were beginning to swirl and the sky was reminiscent of Poltergeist, and it was at that moment that Aye Aye said “Fuck this shit, I’m OUT! Find your own ride home, Shits!” And I should have hitched a ride with her, but instead followed the pack into the dark woods and down the rabbit hole.

Our first obstacle was a very steep, slippery, long drop that could only be conquered successfully by hanging on to various branches and roots along the way. TrainWreck (TW) was behind me and, I shit you not, he pushed me down this horrid hill. Not only was I a bloody wreck, but I lost my key in the creek below! Now I know you must be wondering why I did not have my key secured on my lanyard (I may have misplaced it) and why I, the Haberdasher, did not just buy a new one (sometimes I’m cheap and would rather spend more money on beer). So after many cranium lamps illuminating the area and searching, I fished that sucker out of the creek and TW put it on his lanyard. So many car issues while hashing.

I was a little terrified that TW was going to cover me in maggots to eat dead flesh off my wounds, so I took off behind Shits Bricks into a shit smelling storm tunnel. Shits was quick to point out that if a tornado did indeed decide to sweep through here we could all just stay in the tunnel. Great – that’s just what every hasher wants to hear – I might die tonight clinging to a bunch of wanks knee-deep in shit water. Awesome.

As we trudged deeper into the woods, our next obstacle was to balance beam on a slippery log across a creek. All I can say is somehow no one got hurt. As far as I know. And then CODU, Peems & I somehow ended up so back of the pack DFL that I was starting to realize that if someone wanted to just jump out and kill us, we would be the easiest targets. We were in the middle of the woods. No one would know. And suddenly childhood memories of playing Friday the 13th on the original Nintendo started to creep into my mind and I started looking this way and that because I just KNEW Jason was waiting for us behind the next tree. Makes me shiver just thinking about it.

But then Peems looked down and found a golf ball and “Fore!” threw it right into the pack standing at a ladies check. And then “Five!” threw another one. Oh thank God! We got out of the dark woods and made our way into the light and ended up on Tower Tee Golf course. But, this is hashers invading a golf course, and all I can say is the poor grounds keepers tomorrow might be wondering what just happened and where are the flags? We’re laughing and having a jovial good time until trail took us onto the driving range – or should I say firing range? What the hell Hares – golf balls were flying at us from every which way, PastHer Mourning Wood got nailed in the head and I thought we lost a hasher. He’s fine besides a mild concussion.

There was treasure to be found after this near death experience, and we were rewarded by beers and hurricanes and some other fruity flavored alcoholic beverages in tall cans that we discovered in a cute little cooler purse –how very Vaj-like! Spirits were high and we thought that after the BH we might be nearing the BS, but no no, that was not the case. And as the front of the pack raced off into the woods, I decided to lead the way for the rest of the pack. This may or may not have been a good idea, because as I rounded a corner and followed trail back into a creek, I was greeted by a dozen asses – and I’m not name calling here, literally full moons from all of the hashers who were already here – ahhh!!! Luckily, there was a SS and I had a few swigs of Fireball to help me forget (actually it didn’t – it’s burned into my eyes).

Trail then took us down the creek, which was full of mossy, slippery rocks and Postage slipped and almost died in shit creek. It was then that Hummers looked around and said, “HOLY SHIT!!!! THESE ARE NOT ROCKS – THESE ARE OLD GRAVE STONES!!!” What kind of sick shit is this??? Some Walking Dead Poltergeist Shit was bound to happen in this haunted creek full of tomb stones just piled on top of each other. And we were trudging through water on top of them! And to make it even worse – those sick fucker hares WROTE ALL OF OUR NAMES ON EACH OF THE GRAVE STONES on the side of the creek! They led us to our death! And the only way out was to climb through these sad, decrepit old gravestones, and try to not disturb the undead in the process. And then the fucked up of all fucked up happened – an ancient black skeleton hand grabbed Hummers’ ankle and she screamed and ran up those gravestones so fucking fast and I ran with her! This is not how we were going to die tonight! And trail took us straight through a graveyard and next to an open grave – what were these sadistic hares trying to do with us??

Somehow we found our way out of the graveyard and onto the trail of our final doom. For those who are sickeningly terrified of heights, what lay ahead was the death bridge of death railroad tracks that cross Watson. But instead of crossing, we had to climb down the loose rocks and boulders, which was so dangerous our virgin, Just Kenny, died on trail. At the bottom of the rocks: BS! Oh glorious BS – I need so many beers to take the edge off of ALL of this!

When we got back to circle, everyone was so worked up Whiney was already hightailing it out of the parking lot before we even got there, and Hummers was so freaked out she left immediately after circle. Luckily, a very fresh-faced Princess Pussy Pants joined us and managed to lighten things up a bit. She and I blessed 2 - 10 Run Cranium Bands for PastHer Mourning Wood and P3 may or may not have lost hers in her Vaj in the process. Oh – and this was technically Run 25, but we had 2 Cranium Bands to help camouflage the head injury and told him and everyone else it was due to a “mismanagement error”.

Ice Princess won the Hashshit hands down for hiding her boobs for the last 7 years.

All in all, just a very scary trail.


On-On!
How Do You Like My Headlights NOW!


Oh, and PS: About that memory stick… for those of you who wonder about this elusive collection of photographs that Peepole has been collecting through the years, be careful what you wish for. As I thought opening the photo files would be as beautiful an experience as finally seeing the contents of Marcellus Wallus’ briefcase, it was not the case at all. Instead… well, in actuality I am so disturbed about what I found on this memory stick that I am just completely speechless.


Big Hump Hash House Harriers - St. Louis, Missouri - Established 1999