The Buch Hill Management
Run # 1479
Date: Aug. 4, 2014
Hare: Pubic Housing and Donkey Punch
Weather: It was sunny with sightings of rain from around the state, as told by from various hashers on there way into the pack.
The "Pack": WHO, OOzing, Basket, Bondo, Tinker, Short Shorts, Wee Balls, Just Alex, and the unofficial Smartalex, and Bondos Bit.
Hashit: Just Mike
What the Buck is right!
The lack of theme was unsettling and predictable. But in good fashion, everyone was on time in there Mondays best. Shortly after 6:30 the pack scattered in every d'Erection looking for the famous Check. As it was located, we all proceeded to go in any d'Erection we saw fit. Basket, Just Alex and myself went off one way, and the rest of the pack, most likely with pecker in hand, chose to fumble around in the woods looking for trail.
The meeting at the second Check consisted of WeeBalls, Basket, Just Alex and myself. After fighting off the pasty and persistent bugs along with a YBF and two trails that seemed to lead to nowhere, the true trail was located and again the pack in good fashion did what they always do and ON-ON we went.
Now here is where the mystery of no one getting lost comes to mind. After loosing contact with the pack, the faint call of a conch off the the west and the blow of a horn to the east was all I could hear. I could sense the presence of WeeBalls fallowing behind. But through the scattered pack, the question still remains, if a Bondo falls in the middle of the woods, and no one is around to hear him, does he make a sound? In the opinion of this hashit, he makes a lot of fucking noise.
As the harriers scoped out the Beer Check, Buddy didn't disappoint as like always was the first to get wet. After resurfacing upon what we believed to be a damn big beaver dam, the beer was there as promised, along with brown food. It was awfully nice of Pubic and Donkey to grow those blueberry bushes there too. After getting the whole pack on the dam, beer was digested and songs were sang in between Bondo's complaining about his Booboos. Once we all had our fill, with blueberries in hand for the trek back, the pack flicked the headlamps on and we reconvened back at the vehicles.
During the circle, the hairs were judged, names were called, back-sliders were punished, bows were pointed, and the Hashit was handed down. Basket, once again escaped the bonds of the porcelain cover and it was the redirected to the young buck, where if will be not so proudly displayed and maybe gently used in the upstairs guest room closet behind the boxes...with a dirty sheet covering it with shame.
Now with a write up as detailed and fulfilling as this, along with the bad taste I may have left in your mouth, one question remains. Did WIPOS ever find the Beer Check? The world may never know.
May the Hash go in Peace. Just Mike