Ominous Signs…

Something was amiss at Sportsman’s cum 1:30 last Saturday, the kind of thing you can’t quite put your finger on. Certainly the restaurant itself seemed the same (almost enough customers to look like the place was open for business).
No obvious changes to the menu… Weather outside was still oppressively hot… Wait a minute– Where the fuck is Broken Hymen?!?
Hymen must have died sometime during the past week. There was no other logical explanation.

Panic set in to Hash Cash Soggy Biscuit at this point– 1:50pm and the buckets weren’t out… No drinks on order for day… No flour for the live run… The ice man was sitting out on the curb with his block of ice (in the sun), apparently content to just let that shit melt if Hymen doesn’t tell him how to chop it up.
It was left to Soggy Biscuit, Whorenando, & Shoeless Ho to carry on. In the flurry of activity that followed, we almost didn’t notice another looming catastrophe…

Sausage, Anyone?

That’s right, boys, it was looking a lot like a sausage fest, a dick farm… we were staring straight down the barrel of an all-men’s hash.
Thank god, then, that Mattress Pad showed up promptly at 2:10, to throw a little estrogen into this sea of sperm. You could tell from the look on her face that she had mixed feelings…
And, despite the absence of Hash gear peddler Pippi Ugly Stockings, we managed to sell another shirt. Visiting from KL Mother Hash, Aussie Dum Dum expressed a keen interest in our 777 shirt. He was a bit disappointed that we only had one rather dirty size “L” left, but, after being told that it said “Handjob” on the back in Chinese, he bought it anyway.

Desperate Housewives…

With our one lonely lady it was on the bus, then, and out to MaoFengShan. But wait– second-time hasher Maurius, quickly realizing the gravity of the situation, had made a few phone calls and announced that reinforcements were on the way.
True to his word, ten minutes later we were singing “Why Are We Waiting” and forcing three flirty little Canto-housewives into double down-downs. That man needs to hash more often.

Now, About That Run…

With a few other late additions (mostly female), we were up to 16 and on our way. It was time to talk strategy now for hares Soggy Biscuit and… and… oh, shit… who’s going to set the run? With 8 newcummers, 3 other rookie hashers, and Shoeless Ho telling him “No fucking way”, the pickings were slim. Not wanting to show his ass to this rather dude-heavy crowd, Soggy chose fit-looking second-time hasher UK Alex. “Tell me again what we do with the flour?” asks Alex.

We May Have Been Here Before…

No, Soggy knew for a fact that we had been here before. Just off the highway in MaoFengShan, down one side of the reservoir, up the next valley, & back home through the abandoned pig farm. We had run this exact trail before. But, hell, we could have just re-run last week’s hash and these idiot newcummers wouldn’t know the difference.
Oddly enough, Soggy Biscuit found himself to be the voice of reason while setting the trail. Rookie hare Alex was merciless– despite the number of walkers, despite the fact that visiting hasher DumDum was 65 years old– it was a relatively cool day and he was going to get his 50 kuai’s worth out of this trail. GZ native Gordon took last place and the Shiggy Award, and strokes & heart attacks were avoided by all.

The Soggy Biscuit Show…

After running through the newcummers and returnees (3/4’s of the circle), RRAT (Reluctant RA In-Training) Biscuit started into his routine, giving Shoeless Ho the lead-off down-down. Now, the subject of the down-down wasn’t as noteworthy as the fact that, when it came time to drink it, Shoeless Ho instead pulled out the front of his shorts and poured it onto his genitals. It was all downhill from there…

Make that the Shoeless Ho Show…

Not five days before, Ho had been fretting to his hashing friends that he’d never made an accusation, that he didn’t know how to do it. Well, on this hash he burst– no exploded– onto the scene. Ho was on fire, he was dishing them out left and right, in English, in Chinese, he called out a hairy armpit contest (won hands down by Cypriot Maurius, go figure), he had the ladies up for using umbrellas & cell phones, he had second-time hasher Gordon drinking out of his shoes (didn’t look new to the rest of us, but Gordon was drunk by this point). Shoeless Ho was turning this into a right proper Hash circle.

Other noteworthies–

cutie Gracie wanted to announce to the hash (with the help of the RRAT) that boyfriend & occasional hasher Boy’s Club was out of town… just FYI. Alex brought up Shoeless Ho for finishing off the run by exposing what was apparently the “hairiest ass (he’s) seen across a fishing pond in many years”. Newcummer Tiaan was brought up for proudly announcing, beer in hand, that he had quit drinking the week before. Second-time Maurius wasn’t brought up but it was quickly becoming apparent that his only reason for hashing was to get pissed for 50 kuai. DumDum was brought up for hashing in 2 dozen countries around the work, doing a fine job of pounding out the days run despite his age, and being an all around hardcore hasher… only to drink Sprite in the circle. Last but not least, stand-in pourer Whorenando was given a salute for discovering what has alluded Broken Hymen for years– cold beer!

Swing… ?

Despite Shoeless Ho’s objections, Soggy Biscuit called it to a close. He called up veteran hashers Whorenando & Mattress Pad, as they were likely the only others present who knew the words & motions to the song. Well, it quickly became apparent that they didn’t know the motions, and weren’t even too familiar with the words. You’d think it was in Chinese… Whatever. On the bus.

On On, 

Soggy Biscuit