Zh3 Hash #1122 The Fibo-not-cci Hash
Hares: Weapon of Ass Destruction and Just Nina on her Virgin lay.
RA: Asphalt Liquor.
Scribe: Just Begging for It
This bank holiday Hash was planned like many Summer Hashes before it with the Hares having great expectations of beautiful sunny weather and cold plentiful beer. Alas, the mischievous Hash Gods had a different plan in mind for this Thursday Hash and soaked the trail and the hares in torrential rain whilst flour was being laid. Also, the sudden surge in late sign ups was likely to result in the unthinkable becoming reality – that the Hash may not have enough beer to satisfy the thirst of the many beer guzzling Hashers.
However, hopes were raised amongst the faithful as the raindrops gave way to sunshine just as the Hash was due to begin. Obviously Christian Harlot, who was not in attendance, was performing a naked rain dance somewhere in a field in Switzerland. The desperate plea for more beer was answered as further reinforcements were supplied, thereby avoiding the sight of marauding beer thirsty hashers desperately seeking more beer to quench their insatiable thirst.
As for yours truly, this Hash started like any other until I was accosted by Buttbugger in the corridor outside the toilets, held down against my will and forced to take multiple photos of her ass for her own personal gratification. However, I knew Hash justice would be had in circle later and already my first nomination for bad behaviour was attained.
Chalk Talk was orated by Just Nina and will go down in Hash history as the most eloquent and coherent Chalk Talk ever given. Which makes it even more bizarre when for reasons known only to himself Saddam still managed to go in the completely wrong direction immediately following Chalk Talk and subsequently spent the whole of the Hash searching for non-existent flour. A virgin from Denmark was introduced plus some fellow Scandinavian visitors from the Geneva Hash.
The trail itself can be best described as hilly. There was a hill at the beginning, a hill at the end and countless more hills in between. And just when you thought there couldn’t be any more hills undoubtedly you would be wrong. The many check backs, and there were nearly as many as there were hills, ensured that the pack stayed together. The pack can be best described as chatty and jovial. So much so, it reminded me of going for a walk with my mother and her friends, except instead of copious amounts of tea at the end we drank beer.
There was more than the usual amount of Hash Shenanigans on trail and because of the close pack plenty of witnesses of such Shenanigans. Shamcock and Likes it Down Under had to forego their usual romp in the woods due to the overlooking Hash pack and had to make do with just holding hands instead. Slippery Digit was confessing to the Virgin how he lived a quiet and sheltered life before hashing and it was only since joining the Hash that he since discovered Beer, Running & Sex. The Virgin was starting to wonder had she joined a running club or a cult.
But just as we thought nothing could disturb our good humour a ferocious thud was heard at the rear of the pack as if a great oak tree had been felled to the forest floor. It became apparent one of our dear Hash brothers had fallen whilst crossing a bridge in the forest. As concern for our fallen brother passed throughout the pack a shout went up “Ah, it’s only Vega”. Our concerns were soon replaced with relief and indifference as the pack continued on its merry way in the quest for beer. Some kind Hashers did indeed assist poor WC in Vega from the floor where his pride still lies. Obviously he was distracted by what he thought were Bitcoins glistening in the river below the bridge and fell to earth in his haste to retrieve his gold pan he always carries with him.
But such Hash kindness soon gave way to an evil crime of the highest order on trail as Granny Muff was witnessed killing a poor unfortunate slug who until the arrival of Granny Muff’s clown size trainers was happily feasting on flour. No doubt there is a fine on the way to Granny Muff’s residence from the Swiss authorities who take this form of mollusc cruelty very seriously indeed.
Finally after overcoming the many hills the venue was in sight and the guzzling of beer began. Fortunately Saddam had also found the beer after returning from his own private Hash trail.
Circle was officiated by Asphalt Liquor and was literally a circle of high spirits as Schogginatrix found herself possessed by the ghost of a Songmeister. As the down downs were being handed out Schoggi, in a shock to herself and the rest of the Hashers, repeatedly found the perfect song for each down down. Either we were witnessing an incident of paranormal activity or an audition for resident Songmeister.
The circle started as it normally ends with announcements made by Hashers who clearly knew nothing whatsoever about what they were announcing. The Danish Virgin and her fellow Scandinavian visitors were treated to a proper Zurich Hash welcome and a down down song yet all the while looking quite traumatised at the knowledge that they were all born illegitimate. Buttbugger deservedly received her down down for her pre hash indiscretion and for simply having a fine ass. Saddam was overheard saying what he thought he was only thinking – that yes indeed Buttbugger does possess a fine ass. Despite his protestations he was presented with a down down for saying what we were all thinking. Asphalt Liquor shared a down down with her beloved husband of 10 years Papa Caca and as they stared into each others eyes Asphalt wondered how her manly German hunk had in the last 10 years of matrimony somehow transferred into a Portuguese lady resembling Squatty Potty.
The French were called into circle for no reason other than for being French and the opportunity for the Hashers to sing a song about a French man taking a shit and searching for his papier. The Italians were called into circle for being Italian. If that in itself is not enough punishment in this life they then had to endure listening to an Italian version of the Hash necrophiliac song courtesy of Slippery Digit, complete with hand gestures The Godfather himself would be proud of.
The Beer Bitches, Ice Footsie and Dog Woody, were called into circle not for any indiscretions regarding their beer pouring which was impeccable, but rather for their pathetic attempts at crushing empty beer cans. Prior to accepting their down down song they were provided with a final attempt to demonstrate their manliness by crushing a can in circle. Ice Footsie finally channelled his inner Thor in a reference to our Scandinavian visitors to crush his can in one clean stamp. However, Dog Woody’s attempt at can crushing was met with panic as Hashers and civilians watching from their balconies overhead took cover from the resulting aluminium shrapnel scattered far and wide around the circle.
Alas, all good hashes come to an end and we retreated to the comfort of The Grain to drink craft beer and feast on heart warming food. Hashers soon after disappeared into the Zurich night with legs full of pain, bellies full of beer and heads full of the thoughts of Buttbugger’s ass.
A big Hashy thank you to Weapon and Just Nina for a memorable and superb Hash.