Toad’s Triple Trick Hash - July 26, 1999 So after a boozy weekend we decide to do Toad’s Hash, because "her hashes are never longer than an hour and always easy on the tired old bod". Well that was the first mistake, or no the first mistake was in Toad’s oral instructions, not knowing the difference between her arse etc. Phart having frolicked there before had no trouble finding the designated bushes though. Is it my imagination, or are hashers generally coming more promptly these days? Except for the latecoming Knickerbocker & friend everyone is panting to go at it right at 7:00. So off we go onto the first false trail with ET taking a leak in the bushes being greatly inconvenienced when they all stampede back. The next false trail leads past a fisherman with the people on the right trail being called back to the false trail, utterly against the rules, but then the rule is there are no rules. After going down on the beach once or twice most hashers take a shortcut, leading Toad to exclaim: "I don’t like it when they don’t go down", well most men don’t anyway so no point in waiting for manna from men. From here on in the path becomes more and more tricky, winding up and down at steep angles, forcing some of us to bop down on our but, another false trail straight up a cliff, Toad I never woulda thought. She even told her best friend not to ruin her inserts on this hash, it being too challenging and so it was. Ending up in a frisbee football field, we slog through a nice little neighbourhood, some jumping through lawn libations, where dusty butts become muddy asses, and finally down a steep hill on-on home. The ricocheting shot that reverberates through the air turns out to be a punctured truck tire and not a sniper with a grudge, thank the good lord for her kindness, so we all make it safe and sound back to the booze vehicle, where cooler contents taste like angel pee. Although Bullit does some halfhearted down-downs, ET grabs the chalice away from him to chastise him about the fact that he canceled his 50th b-day party several moons ago and to nevertheless present him with a card the likes of which some hashers have never seen, I didn’t know that there was innocence amongst us, but wonders never cease. Unfortunately the itty-bitty titties adorning the presented porn had slightly melted due to excessive handling and Bullit never showing up to get shit for not having a party. Glow-worm suggests Phart get the Mother Theresa award for helping him finish his beer, because apparently he did not want to come home drunk to his Lovebite who was working, as were supposedly some other spouses of hashers present, I have heard that excuse before and found this generally to be a crock. However, we go on to the local pub by name of The Snooty Fox, why do you always pick pubs with difficult names Toad. Although she had no difficulty standing on a chair flashing her mucky butt while hashers wail another drunken downdown song. And more to follow, to the great amusement of a group of youngsters who were all invited to Clot’s hash which he announces to be a nude one. Now wouldn’t that suit Two-Jugs just fine, since he spent his time mentally (generously assuming he has a mind) undressing the nubile young waitress who couldn’t keep up with the demand. It being found that drinking by the glass was generally cheaper and less stultifying, it was once again left to P’Nguin to figure out the money part because she’s so good at it, and so am I, so see you’all next time.