Richmond Hash, Trail 686 – Jonestown Memorial Trail – November 19, 2006
A note. The T-shirts that Phantom and I were wearing were custom designed and printed via iron-on by yours truly (Gammy McArtsandCrafts) . I will provide the high res art file to anyone that was on trail that day. I did set up a store at www.cafepress. com/gammymcprola pse but because of some silly copyright law they won't print them. IF enough people express interest and give money I will be happy to source a printer. No tiki no laundry.
Location: Gammy's Sister's House, Bon Air (37° 31.12'N, 77° 33.72'W)
Hares: Gammy McProlapse and Phantom Pooftah
Weather: Unseasonably warm, sunny, recent rains
Shiggy Factor: 5 of 10 (due to rain and flood plain)
Trail Length: ~2.5 mi
Beverage Stops: 2 (including 1 disastrous kool-aid fiasco which killed 1 wanker)
Wankers: One Score (-1)
Virgins: 2
On After: Rock Falls Tavern
Drunk GMs: 1
Dead Hashers: 1
Visitors: Udder Ho, Just Kevin (or Keith or whatever)
All I have to say is that we should disband the Richmond Hash House Harriers immediately. Why you say? Because it can only go downhill from here. We have reached the pinnacle of what a trail can be. Henceforth all Richmond trails will be compared to the Jonestown Memorial Trail and all hares compared to Gammy McProlapse and Phatom Pooftah. All will come up very, very short until Phantom and I hare again.
Those of you planning on haring in the future should just give up now and not even bother since the new standard is utterly unobtainable. I would offer my services as full-time hare but your heads would explode with the amazing adventures upon which I would lead you. Those of you that were there can easily attest to the AWE-AWE-AWE- AWESOMENESS that completely blew your minds. If you were there, stop reading now, because the AWESOMENESS of the Jonestown Trail combined with the phenomenal word smithing ahead will leave you sterile. That's right, my trail and write-up combined have the explosive power of several thermonuclear warheads. So, if you aren't wearing lead panties stop reading now. Those that were not in attendance should read on and find out why they missed the finest trail ever, in the universe, all of history, and certainly ever. Better than Hannibal crossing the alps (which was, in fact, a hash event).
Actually at the beginning I was somewhat concerned. You see, everyone knew what an amazing trail that salty old codger Phantom and myself were planning. They stayed away knowing that the AWESOMENESS would rob them of their faculties and reduce them to nothing more than drooling, shit and piss factories. Anyway, after laying trail, Lord Phantom (my self-proclaimed idol) and I are hanging on Ummmmm's (formerly Gammy's sister) porch drinking an ice cold beer. Like Fizgigg from The Dark Crystal, Just Kevin (I think) shows up fresh in from Toledo. He joined us and we exchanged pastries in the traditional manner.
Eventually, as usual the awesomeness and redicularity of the Richmond Hash poured in. Honestly I won't be able to remember everyone that was there. If I leave you out please accuse me of favoritism, exclusivity, cliquishness, and generally being a shallow ass concerned only about popularity…or simply a drunk (more on that later). As far as I can remember the following wanklets were in attendance (in no particular order except me first): Gammy McProlapse, Phantom Pooftah, Comatoes, Hoot Are You?, Udder Ho, R.U.D.Y., A.A.R.P., Jerry's Kid, ManWhich?, Fuck Fuck Gis Gis Oh What A Release It Is, Open Whore Policy, It's Twue It's Twue, Hokie Pokeme, Quack Whacker, Gus Gus Duck, Grilled Chicken On A Bun, Just Kevin (or Keith or whatever), Dung King, Loving Poonschool, dog, and the eminent I-Feel Tower. Shit, I forgot A.A.R.P.'s young boyfriend's name but he was there too. Seriously, give that guy a darth vader; A.A.R.P. we need to change your name to A.A.P.
My sister has a big ass dog who's only toy is a truck tire.
LET THE TRESSPASSING BEGIN! The FRBs take off like pure bred spermatozoa out of Tennis' pitching machine. AHAH, jerks. They ran about 100 yards when they were confronted with the first physical challenge. A 1000-foot rope swing spanning a 500-meter deep chasm full of spikes, mormons, and 68 fathoms of water. Most people made it across like Jack T. Colton…there were a few red-hot swingers who crossed more like Just Joan Wilder. I made it over more like my Little Mule. The first 4 over (Dung, Twue, that dude with A.A.R.P., and ManWitch?), who all remind me of characters from the original Tron, received the gift of tiny alcohol. More on the alcohol and Tron later.
Anyway, the rope swing was the most fun any of you have ever had at a hash and you can thank Phantom and I with sexual favors or the procurement thereof. I prefer to outsource my sexual favors to India these days and you may as well as it is both cost efficient and conveniently confusing.
Trail goes up through the woods. I'm back sweeping up those who were more interested in scenery than exercise. Which, is cool as it was a nice day. At least it is cool until Hoot falls into a hole. Please refer to said hole as the Sarlacc Pit (see Return of the Jedi). Fortunately, she did not suffer the same limb losing accident that her dog experienced. Though, if her leg had broken off that would have been sort of cool and ironic. That way it would be easier for Udder to keep control of her which in turn would make Udder a happier guy…sort of like Doctor Nick Cavanaugh.
Ok, so here I am after CHIC trying to finish this bullshit up but apparently I'm not even close. And I am currently drunk on Tecate. Bizzle has not yet tried to rape me though I am not entirely counting that out. I did just cover him in the blanket that is acting as the barracks for my dehydrated army of me. Right on, grassy hopperish folks. So, uhh, yes the trail thingy. The next thing I think happened was the first beer stop. Everyone seemed to be having the best time of their lives. But that's bullshit because everyone knows the best time of their lives was prom.*
Regarding prom. It is my assertion that all women should wear their prom dresses all of the time. Why you ask? Nothing like a high school girl with her hose around her ankles, in high heels, with $100 hair, and her sateen above her head. Well, at least when I was in high school. I suppose I can't say that now. Nah, I still get off on prom dresses.
Right, the beer stop. I got there a little late (see sweeper position) so I'm sure I missed something interesting. But I did see one of the most amazing things that has ever happened. The best time to have a baby is when you are a black teenager. Grilled Chicken on a Bun had taken a trip this summer to Chechnya, the home of grilled chicken. They de-bone the babies. Apparently, in Chechnya the national gift is Raccoon penises. Grilled Chicken, in his infinite wisdom bequeathed (you don't have to be dead to bequeath shit) a fossilized raccoon penis upon I-Feel Tower. I could tell I-Feel was happy because all of the other penises on his jacket saluted in approval. Does anyone think he has too many? I for one say a man should have as many penises as possible.
As Sarah Silverman would say, "When god gives you aids, and he does,…make lemonaids."
We sang that song I hate about some bear. I took a piss and then the fun really began. Well at least for me. We went down a hill, then up another, then down another, then up another. Seriously it was like playing Contra and getting the 30 extra lives…except there was no Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, B, A, Select, Start…but the rest was like it.
I was still hanging out with the back of the pack which apparently got lost. This doesn't even require hyperbole. We are following the only part of the trail that might actually have been construed as a trail and as the DFLs and myself were catching up there are about 10 people just wandering around in the woods. 10 people intentionally left the trail to go stand in water. Of course, they ask the hare which way trail goes…of course I don't remember…what I do know is that they didn't follow the clearly marked trail to the back-check ahead…I have also chosen to use ellipses rather than periods…Of course I didn't know where trail turned because I hadn't gone to the back check either.
As Sarah Silverman would say, "They don't mention that Martin Luther King rolled up all of the windows in the car and farted with the heat up while his family suffered."
So like, dude, I got that shit back on track. We wander about the wilderness and MaNwENCH suggests that perhaps I did no communicate the need for clean shoes clearly enough. NOTE: If the email says DRY BAG OPTIONAL bring a fucking dry bag. Open Whore, IN YOUR FACE!!!! I told you it was muddy. Gammy controls everything but Gammy does not control torrential downpours…R.U. D.Y. does so blame him.
As Sarah Silverman would say, "My neck is 6 inches long completely flaccid. Well, when I measure from my balls."
RIGHT THEN. We meander to the next beverage stop where all hell breaks loose. I see that Phantom has put his dirty ball in the tree that he found scouting. I also watched him as he turned to Lovin' and asked, "Do you ever take drugs so that you can have sex without crying?" Apparently Lovin' responded with "AFFIRAMTIVE! !!" But what she really said was, "Check out my cute puppy."
As I go to cross the next physical challenge I am commanded to stop by Grilled Chicken. Being that he bears a disturbing resemblance to Patrick Duffy I immediately froze in my tracks. He then asked me, "Did you know that Hitler killed 60 million jews in the holocaust?" To which I replied, "No silly he only killed 6 million." Chicken, that silly gentile, responded, "What's the difference?"@
Crossing the log was fun. Chicken decided it was time for me to play baseball. It was like Dennis Eckersly versus Bill Mazeroski. I whacked that shite like Quacky wishes he could whack an Anatidae. Eventually, I came down off of the log only to find the bulk of the wankers resting on the beach. As this was the Jonestown Memorial trail I had obviously placed grape kool-aid (though historically it was the inferior flavo-aid…but Jewish people driving German cars is the opposite of F.U.B.U.).
Here is where things turned ugly, think Annie Wilkes. While I did my best to offer something that would both fortify the hash and provide liquid comfort, by no means did I intend to get you all fucked up. Well you did. You kids got drunker than Winston Churchill on spring break with Mel Gibson and Fatty Arbuckle. Of course, as is writ, I was asked to make a speech. Here is what I was thinking while I was talking:
"Why the hell am I standing in this river? I don't care if you think I'm racist I just hope you think I'm thin. I have tried to base my religion on race and not facts. What the hell am I supposed to say? I bet God is a beautiful woman with giant breasts and I will nuzzle them when I get into heaven."
All of that is true with no exaggeration. Phantom steps back up on the log. That's cool. He did the wanking song about those days of the week ( I can never remember the order). Incidentally, this is something that really pisses me off. It isn't the fact that Phantom was singing…I liked that part. It is the idea that the week starts on Monday. LISTEN UP ASSHOLES SUNDAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEK AND SATURDAY IS THE LAST! I am sick of having this argument. That is the final word and anyone that thinks differently can eat oozing puss craters on my anus…
This is getting too long and not nearly as funny as it should be. Sort of like most other trails that are inferior to Phantom's and mine. Don't worry as I go back and edit I will add in multiple obscure references and bullshit that no one understand but me…and sometimes I don't even understand.
Frankly, the trail was so good that I could probably write an entire novel based upon it.
Anywho, we sang an inspiring rendition of something that hashers sing. So at least I had that going for me. Wait, I skipped Gus Gus falling down on the ground and foaming at the mouth. I was actually a little scared. Antoinette Perry would have been proud. Open Whore manually checked his bathing suit area for urine. When she gave the all clear we immediately were fascinated with his ability to look like he was dying. Note: Gus Gus, for future reference the actions you performed were not consistent with cyanide poisoning. Believe me, I've seen it.
Shit, I type to much and don't make enough obscure references (see 913 dead at Jonestown ).
The on-in was confusing. We had the Turkey/Eagle split. The only difference between the trails was that the Eagles had to go back across the rope swing to get back. Well turkeys, you fucked it up by also going to the rope swing. At this point I have to give the majority of the Richmond Hash credit for showing some stones. In no way, at no time did I expect so much interest in the rope…The history of the rope is a curious one. In fact the earliest ropes date back to about 17,000 BC. Oops sorry atheists 17,000 BCE.
Jesus, too much to talk about. I haven't even mentioned yet that Tennis was shoe shopping instead of showing up. Allright, back at the swing again. At this point everyone is pretty well loaded and the swinging begins in earnest. Twue and A.A.R.P decide that a tandem swing is in order. Honestly, as adults you should know better than that. Regardlesslyness, it isn't the first time A.A.R.P. has skinned her knees underneath Twue on a creek bed.
Christ, I can't stop typing there was simply too much happening. We thank the neighbors, who were hauling leaves, with drunken cheers and they respond with, "I'm glad you guys were having fun." Exactly my thoughts. I'm pretty sure that no one has ever had as much fun as you bitches did on Phantom and Gammy's Jonestown Trail. Why? Because it was mine and it was sweet.
I need to finish this but I fear the edit. We circled up and things got ridiculous. You drunk fucks were completely out of control…but mostly Twue was out of control. In an effort to attract the ire of people that care, we were on county property the entire time and were on the grounds of a juvenile detention facility for girls (I feel Emmy!). Woops, did I say that? BAH, no matter.
I'd would like to welcome my sister Ummmm (she is my sister but I recognize that she is hot) to the hash, and thank her for allowing us to piss in her bushes (that's plural not possessive you dirty bastards) and whatever we decided to name the guy from Toledo…not Spain. The other Toledo was where Radar is from, or was it Clinger?
Let me see if I can keep this under 5 pages. Nope. The on-after rocked. Not only because Second Cumming showed up but because I inadvertently sent everyone there on $0.35 wing night. Eat it! Literally. Also Hoot played Irene Mitchell (Susan) all over Phantom's windshield. Good turn out, weak livers all-around.
A Note to those that might run into one of my tails again: There will be no more holding back on shiggy. Actually I held Phantom back. I will go out of my way to make it the most miserable experience you and I have ever had. Furthermore, count on excess alcohol, and too much of everything in general. Excess is best boys.
Frenching jokes this write-up: 0
Percentage of this write-up produced while under the influence: 66%
~Gammy McEgomaniac, Resident Hyperbolist
Next week: A nice write up where I am kind and loving.