Flatlanders,

For those of you with neither highwaters nor waders, here's a recap of
Friday's sodden activities.

The pack gathered at hash time behind the "corporate sell-out" skatepark
near US36 and 104th.  The skies had opened for the previous hour or
more, but the torrential downpour had tapered to an intermittent
drizzle, so the hares set out.  The trail snaked around the Weston,
counting back across the Promenade bridge to the ornamental pond there,
where Cum Silent discovered the floating styrofoam map anchored some
distance out, and some little wankers contemplating it.  Without
hesitation, Cum Silent launched into the murk, while the amazed
bystanders looked on.  He fought his way against considerable current
and scrambled back out, leaving the map just within reach of the punks,
who presumably made off with the souvenir, leaving the rest of the pack
only Cum Silent's ambiguous arrows to guide them to where the trail
picked up in the neighborhood just to the north.  Freudian collected the
new Norman Pace award along the way, the stone that was the map's
anchor, now awarded for whining on trail.  You can guess who won it. 
The trail snaked through the neighborhood, then down near the rec
center, where it bridged the swollen and engorged creek which would
become the hares' loathed enemy.  It was in this vicinity that Two Holes
and Four Stroke allege that they spotted one of the hares, but could not
manage to ford the devilish stream, so chose to disappear into a nearby
neighborhood, never to be seen again.  Indeed, their attendance at this
hash was confirmed only by a questionable spotting by the hare they gave
brief chase to, and they were not seen by any of the rest of the pack,
at the start, at the finish, or at down downs.  A tragic mystery.  The
trail continued along the bike path, over 104th, then toward the
extension of Westminster Blvd, under construction.  Deep kept a wary eye
on the flooded stream, and worked his way through several tongues
lapping at the path.  When he turned the final corner before the tunnel
which would lead to freedom and the other side of US36, he was horrified
to see the orifice running deep with murky froth, completely
impassable.  Separated from his stashed powder on the other side (which
confirms his halfmindedness), and lacking any US36 crossings for a mile
in each direction, he conceded to the stream and ended the trail.  The
pack collected themselves a short time later, and they made their way
back to the start, from whence they headed to nearby Hash House III,
where down-downs ensued.

Down-downs were raucous, mainly due to the exuberance of visitor Biker
Bitch, who mellowed not at all as he floated his eyeballs with ale. 
Other visitors included Cum Titty and Nipple Head from the "other" hash,
who were treated well indeed.  There were two namings to note.  Allison
(unnamed)'s love of animals (and manipulation of the interview process
to her own devious ends) is reflected in Menagerie Trois.  Joel
(unnamed) was stymied by the evening's flooding, so it only seemed
appropriate the exclusively haring halfmind, after 29 consecutive hashes
missed, would answer to Lazy Sperm ("Not a swimmer").  The shitstud was
not in attendance, but the Norman Pace was awarded to, you guessed it,
Cummy Pinko.  On-afters continued in the Hash House III kitchen, with
beer, discussion (disgustion?) of the Beav, and beer.

Next hash will be in Golden, a week from Friday, hared by the pentuple
Ds:  Dr Dripdick and Double D.  The former is famous for his flat,
short, shortcuttable trails.  The latter is the Boulder/Denver hasher
who discovered Shangri La II.  Speaking of which, the hash mismanagement
has elected to migrate to a beermeister arrangement, in the name of
fiscal responsibility.  Beermeister duties will be shared between Deep
and Cum Silent (and their lackey-slaves).  If you are haring (you should
be), contact Deep about picking up coolers and beer beforehand.

On-on,
Deep