[BH4] (no subject)

[georgej at fmailbox.com]

So the hash was to be in Middletown, and naturally the pack was to
gather at Pencader Plaza in Newark.  But first, transpo had to be
arranged for visiting hasher Yorky Porky, stuck in housing for the
criminally insane, otherwise known as the Marriott in Wilmington, a
place to be somebody (where the somebody is criminally insane).  Having
sent the Hare to Wilmington to gather (apparently in lieu of setting
trail) the vagabond hasher, the hare returned to Pencader to pick up
hobbling John and soon arrived in Middletown at the scene of a new
running store that honors hashers with foot stickers on the front and
hash paraphenalia inside.  Even Crash Test Dummy was welcome within, if
even only to be shown the back door, where Hare Vasoline Alley was
joined by the rest of the slobbering pack, LikNstik, Butthead, Hanna
Job, Dirty Wet Pussy, and the formerly mentioned Yorky Porky and
stumbling John, and of course, Crash Test.  We then went out front, to a
prominent location at the corners of Rte's 299 and 71, and across from
two of the finer officers in parked cars, one unmarked, who of course
were consuming donuts and coffee with windows open and whilst immersed
in conversation, and we had chalk talk.  Alas, there was no chalk for
sample marks at the chalk talk, and we quickly gathered as we set on
"trail" such lack of chalk was fully appropriate, as said marks on trail
matched in every way those of the chalk talk circle, and any citings or
sightings were truly the result of the imagination of the pack rather
than of deliberate action of the hare.  Fortunately, BH had committed
the grand crime of cell phone on trail, and after several mis-directions
and calls, we eventually found "trail" near Silver Lake Park. 
Eventually we crossed 299 and found stumbling john with hare and beer. 
We drank, kicked hare out who promised marks for the balance of trail,
and drank some more.  Then we progressed, found two on marks, a check, a
false, and no other marks, whence we propositioned several corner
standers, each of whom assured me they had seen no flour or chalk, and
suggested I turn in to the local chapter for the Hour of Power, where
many locals were enroute.  Lacking energy for an hour of power, and
feeling thirst set in, the pack joined me in evacuating towards Rte 71,
though LikNStik, comfortable in her surroundings and her Santa Claus
suite, needed extra coaxing along lest she exchange gifts with the
locals.  Soon, we found our way back to the alley leading behind the
runner's store, found owner Just Tina, and toasted the hares with
special offerings from the select beers VA had arranged for us, none of
which were recognizable to any of the pack.  Much beer was consumed, and
soon a Pacifica and (ooops) Hanna Jobs corral joined us.  We then
commenced to the nearest pub, North Street bar, but dismayed at food
quality and service, we took leave early and commenced to the Sandbar,
where Gary (formerly of East End), and Doug and Chris of Margherita's
joined in our frivolity.  And a good time was had by all.  
Other items of note:  Yorky Porky was returned to his Wilmington
lodgings by yours truly.
Devil Woman, whilst in Middletown, declined to hash as she was well
engaged in preparing a class presentation, a marathon far exceeding the
summed efforts of the hashers of the day.  For competitive behavior she
surely earned a down down at next circle.   

My apologies for omissions and emissions, reported just as I experienced
it.  

On on, 

Butthead.