Kahuna Hash 8/24/09

Screams Her Own Name -Chum Guzzler
Beaverton, Oregon



Penned by Author to Be Wet Spots -Thank You



I knew it was going to be fucked up when Chum Guzzler began the evening telling of his $250 ticket for drinking in public. The encounter had set him back, made him a little cautious about venturing out into the wilds of Beaverton. He didn't want a second ticket. Would two drinking-in-public tickets equal one DUI? As we spoke, an unmarked Beaverton police car cruised by. We all began to get a little paranoid---did the cops read our website? Do they really have no real crimes to solve in the suburbs?But Chum and his perky sidekick, Screams Her Own Name, resisted the temptation to just bag it all--they grabbed their flour bags, created an immense box for all 25 of us, and started out. The pack milled about, drinking beer on the sly, telling tall tales of trails gone by. Terry, otherwise known as Bump and Grind, asked for a hash mentor as the only other hash she'd been on had resulted in her getting lost and never finding the end. BananaCondom strutted his cute self about reintroducing himself to the eager bimbos, and Nathan and Brady brought their mom and dad to the hash. The hounds departed at 7 p.m.Trail took us through football games, cheerleading camps, and many many jogging strollers. We carried on through the crowd, calling out "Are you?" and answering "On-on." The flour led to trails and more trails. The trails led to cul-de-sacs, the cul-de-sacs led to trails. Were we lost? Whatever is a cul-de-sac? Where did that name come from? The "BN" had been sighted at least a mile back on the sidewalk. Where was this beer? Had we missed the beer check? The bastardly hares were no where in sight and neither was the beer. Nothing was left to do but continue to run, and we were convinced that we were running in circles. Hadn't we run by this house before? Didn't this street corner look familiar? Fuck the hares!The hounds eventually stumbled across the BC arrow---around the back to Vagina AleCarte's house, where our thirst was assuaged by some cheap canned liquid, water, and some other decent bottled beer which disappeared too quickly. Stinky offered Nathan a beer, but Wet Spots intervened. Phil McCracken wondered what in the world one would do at a hash campout? Mud Butt answered plainly, "Get drunk, get naked, get in a pile." The pack worried that if the second half of the hash was as long and tedious as the first, we'd be out way after dark. No one,,,,I believe no one brought a flashlight or headlight. Half minds trailing shiggy through the years....But happily we discovered that the trail led us directly back to the on - in. Kahuna's favorite on-in treats greeted us--sandwiches, hummus, chips, and beer. Big Shitter, in his tyrannical manner, ordered Banana Condom, a visitor to lead religion. Who refuses Big Shitter? So, BananaCondom led the short religion, greeting Terry who was bumping and grinding, Romancing the Stone and CockJaw, transplants from Eugene. Pabst Smear rejoiced that he was once again hashing. We sang a song from the Beijing hash and ended religion quickly. We all got the hell out of there quickly to avoid citations or other such distasteful run-ins with authority figures, whether they be the police, Pabst Smear, or Big Shitter. Speaking of that, it was a truly shitty hash.
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