For everyone but the eight people who showed up, here's a recap of last
Saturday's festivities.

The pack, if you can call it that, gathered at 30th and Walnut, where
Chacockua was showing off his strap-on devices.  He seemed particularly
proud of the shaft-mounted plunger, which he claimed is invaluable for
ejecting the chubby a hare can be stuck with while laying trail.  The
rest of the halfmind nodded slowly and chuckled to themselves as he
rammed a chalk log into the hole and loped off with Cum Silent to scrawl
a trail.  At first, the polychromal marking proved elusive, but the pack
warmed to the idea, and had little trouble following a route through
reliable hashing terrain, a maze of office parks and Audi dealerships,
toward Boulder Creek in the vicinity of Foothills and Arapahoe.  Skin
Flute led much of the way.  One might even say he won the hash.  Deep
meanwhile took a more efficient approach, and sniffed a countback not
far up Foothills on the east side.  Half the pack used their halfminds
to cross Foothills, while Deep and aptly-named Kansas visitor Shut The
Fuck Up elected to delve into the depths of the culvert underneath. 
Skin Flute led a foray to the north, where trail flirted with the
Wilderness Pub before crossing Valmont and snaking into a parking
garage, where a map put the pack back on in a surprisingly affordable
neighborhood on 34th St.  A ditch and a park later, Skin Flute and Deep
discovered trail on some railroad tracks to the east.  A turn on powder
put the FRBs in another culvert, a triple tunnel which they
circumvented.  The tunnel orifice on the other side showed powder, but
no trail was to be found.  As the pack gathered, an apparitional voice
coming from the 3rd tunnel spoke of a CB to beer.  The pack retraced
their steps and joined the hares at the poorly-lit but well-furnished
finish in the 3rd tunnel.  The hashers scared off a derelict musician,
then set about the business of consuming vast quantities of ale. 
Somewhere during the shuttle, Skin Flute disappeared and Pukahontas
arrived.

Down-downs ensued as the sun set and a bone-numbing chill set in.  Shut
The Fuck Up contributed numerous frivolous and foreign nominations, and
was duly rewarded.  Pukahontas sucked at a beery teat as part of a "dead
bug".  Seven erstwhile Flatlanders put the hurt on our poor beverage
reserves, as well as any ears in the neighborhood, then set off to Casa
Alvarez for heaps of beans and cheese.

While we have proven time and time again that small packs can be big
fun, it's about time you fucking wankers started showing up again.  You
can put yourselves on the road to hash recovery by coming out to the 4th
Annual Tuwkey Twat, to be hared by Discus Miniscus and Deep In The End
on Saturday, November 24 at 2pm, starting at the Gart's at 28th and
Iris.

On-on,
Deep