Big Hump HHH hash #666
Keyless Entry, Keyless Entry, Keyless Entry…..Keyless said she loves to read trash when she sees her name mentioned, so I put it right up front so it shows up on the front page. Man, I’m clever.
The number 666 has ominous overtones for those who choose to believe Old Testament mythology. It is the mark of the beast, emblazoned on the son of Satan himself. So to celebrate, the Big Hump hash gathered in Soulard on a night not made for man nor beast. Cold, rainy, blustery…yeah, quite frankly it sucked. But, we were in Soulard, where even bad weather can’t keep you from finding a pub and raising spirits of the good kind. And since tomorrow was a holiday, we sucked it up and toughed it out.
While a large contingent of Big Humpers were still a little foggy from visiting Hogtown’s 1000th hash over the weekend (I think I’m STILL a little hungover from that), some major backsliders even joined us in spite of the weather. As Meta said, you don’t expect to use the words “backslider” and “Urine Trail” in the same sentence, but there he was again…finally. Mud Packer, Elbow Deep In The Breadbox, other backsliders and many regulars circled up and welcomed a couple visitors from IndyScent Hash, plus a lovely virgin brought to us by Dribble Between My Legs….atta girl.
Meta was solo haring (can we really do that?) a live trail. Away we went, down by the world’s largest brewery, which dominates the skyline in our lovely little enclave and stinks up the air when they’re brewing up a new batch of nature’s nectar. Across the highway and on in to what I believe is one of the best beer stop locations in the world…the parking lot of the Lemp Mansion. As we told ghost stories to the visitors and those unfamiliar with the urban legends surrounding that venerable building, we got interrogated by a mater de. Maybe he was just curious, so we told him we were a convention of serial killers and heard this was a great meeting place. Not sure if he believed that, but then Urine explained the real story to him in perfect “Urine-ese” …and it didn’t seem to help any.
We left the beer stop shortly after and immediately lost trail. With enough inside knowledge, we decided to zen to the second beer stop at the other end of Soulard. It was good to warm up for a while and sing a rowdy hash song to the other bar patrons. Downing our beers and zipping back up, we headed out with no intention whatsoever of following what was left of trail back to the on-in because everyone knew how to get back the 6 blocks to it. Good thing too, Meta was out of flour anyway….I don’t remember seeing a cake on trail. What was he doing with all that flour?
Huddling for warmth, we down-downed for all the usual fun things. It was a little too cold for our virgin Just …errr, shit what was her name? to show us a voluptuous hidden body part (I call them round mounds of pleasure) but promised to do so at a later time. Don’t make promises you can’t keep dear, we WILL hold you to that.
I can’t remember accusations, pints of lager or hashshit nominations because I was too busy shivering. I remember Dribble plungering up one of the hashshits. Oh well, I have to finish baking a pie anyway, so I’ll keep it short.
We moved the on-after to Tip Top because D’s Place was full of yuppies. On-afters 4 blocks from your house are a good thing. We need to name Just Mindy soon…I got some good intel on her at the bar.
Happy Thanksgiving wankers, and buy a real Christmas tree!
Ricky’s Crab Shack