Hashers,

For those of you who weren't even there, here's a recap of last Friday's 
festivities.

The pack gathered in the King Sooper's parking lot at 100th and Wadsworth 
Pkwy in their typically timely fashion.  Since Cum Silent and Freudian 
were haring, it was inevitable that Deep and Cummy would be fashionably 
late with some critical ingredient to the hash's success which the hares 
communicated only telepathically.  So has it been in the past, and so 
shall it be in the future.  Nevertheless, the hares set off before the sun 
hit the horizon, with the hounds nipping at their heels.  The trail led 
east, then south, where the pack encountered the first CB, a pleasant 
6-powder on a bike path near a field.  Deep, fed up with a tenth mile of 
pure trickery, elected to try out a longcut he had been toying with at the 
start, and convinced Humpsalot to join him on a jaunt back to 100th, then 
west toward the dikes of Standley Lake (famous lot, if you haven't heard 
of 'em).  While the rest of the pack navigated their way southward in the 
vicinity of Wadsworth Pkwy, so I'm told, then down to the long 
greenway/park south of Independence, Deep and Humpsy found the nether end 
of Independence and turned southward.  Cum Silent later confessed his 
anxiety about Deep and Router's familiarity with the area, as it had been 
the site of a hound-aborted trail back in February, and both Deep and 
Router managed to make it out for the day's trail.  Deep and his mutt 
jumped a cul-de-sac into open space, then continued southeast toward the 
terminus of Dudley Dr and Cum Silent and Freudian's new pad.  He suddenly 
stubbed his toe on an inverted CB 5 and was back in the game.  A few 
moments of milling around and he spied two hares about 600 meters away, 
happily tossing powder into the air while [content unsuitable for 
flatlanders].  Sweating profusely and faces glowing, the hares continued 
along the north side of a creek while Deep attempted to close on them.  A 
few hundred yards away still, Deep was considering his options as the pack 
suddenly burst out of the neighborhood to the south and on the south side 
of the creek.  This serendipitous reunion sparked some wild gyrations from 
Deep, which were correctly interpreted as "Go snag the hares, you 
motherfuckers.  They're over there."  Hood's half mind turned over these 
instructions for a while, and after a period of cud-(pud-?)chewing, he 
bolted eastward, and was rewarded by Cum Silent sprinting directly at him, 
spraying flour everywhere.  Just a few steps into a cul-de-sac adjacent to 
the open space, Cum Silent proudly dumped, leaving an epic smear.  Hood 
tried to amble off in the wrong direction, but Deep persisted with wild 
hand gestures, until Hood finally took off after the other hare.  He found 
Freudian happily ambling less than a block from her home, the finish, and 
promptly snared her.  When the rest of the pack caught up, the GM made an 
executive decision to skip the 10-minute grace period, and we adjourned to 
Cum Silent's back yard.  

After much shuttling, emergency trips to the liquor store and 
dog-wrasslin', down-downs ensued in the garage.  Songs were sung and tasty 
ales consumed.  Returners included Bush Router, Puss In Boots and Jizz 
Whiz.  One virgin pissed on Cum Silent's hockey gear (but then again, who 
hasn't?).  There were two namings to note.  The Flatlander formerly known 
as John (unnamed), or Jesus II, is now affectionately referred to as 
Chacockua, while that instigator Adam (unnamed) will perk his ears at the 
mention of Hairy Rim.

Next hash is a week from Friday, pickup format, compelling start 
suggestions considered.  Barring suggestions, I'll pick a spot by Friday.  
We still need hares for June 9.

On-on,
Deep