Oakville Hash House Harriers

December 27, 1999 - The Last Last Last Hiccup of the Century Hash
This was a Two-Jugs product and let it be said he only went around the trail twice before letting us loose behind the Canadian Tire warehouse. Well, not too many hash heroes showed up on this sunny winter day, the rest of them drinking the last of the Christmas booze and playing with their new (or same old) toy, but what matters was that us hardy hash house harriers were out beating the track and not something else while pretending to lose some holiday lard. That delusion evaporated quickly when we arrived at the welcome beer stop featuring rummed-up hot cider and those good and fatty sausage rolls and on on we rolled to the end, there being nothing of note on this last gasp, just yer typical hash through neighbourhoods, parkettes, past the Chinese takeout which Two-Jugs has tried and the Greek restaurant which he hasn't, and if he had, it would have been a feta compli, the most exciting moment being when Roadkill got stuck on top of the chain-link fence, not willing to risk either his balls or his brand-new jockstrap, and Two-Jugs arms stretched into gorilla lengths because of accommodating leg-ups over said fence. So on home to the parking lot and the obligatory beer and wing joint, where, for the last time in the 20th century we partook in the communal hash fare - but shit, Two-Jugs, I woulda thought you could at least have led us in one last hash song but he knew the cute waitress and did not want to befuddle himself.

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And so we close the curtain on the best century of hashing in the neighbourhood, of running our butts off and risking our limbs on treacherous tracks, forever happy that we made it to the end of yet another run around the block, dashing to the drink and food, listening to drunkards and sloths babbling on, and generally having the hashiest time of the century. Can the next millennium really be better? On-on hashers!