Flatlanders,

For those of you who weren't even there, realize that those DH3 and BH3
wankers are taking over your hash.  Also, here's a recap of our epic
50th trail.

The pack gathered at hash time, but, alas, the hares were not among
them, for in the week between scouting and laying, Flatirons Crossing
had exploded with activity, and mall traffic got the better of them. 
They wasted little time at the start, dropping powder from the chase
vehicle as they pulled up, past the hounds, and around the back of Best
Buy.  Cum Silent bounced his chalky balls through a parking garage where
Tim (unnamed) would eventually gain an honorary nod for the Homer J Fong
(which could not be awarded, as it hasn't been in attendance since its
last awardee was in attendance... *cough*) by sweet-talking a mallcop. 
A CB over one side of the structure was sniffed out by the original
CB-hound, Cummy, and a TT arrow directed the pack off the top floor of
the garage, through midair to a fire hydrant up a hill on the back side,
where they found the scent once more - yes, Deep's scent.  The route
directed them to the west, angling across snow-shiggy, skirting
construction, and eventually depositing them in parking garage number
two.  The ruthless hares delayed the pack at this point with a most
unusual take on the standard CB-map combo, with the map pasted directly
through the floor, underneath the designated powder.  Pukahontas
stumbled upon this, and the hounds made the best of an inaccurate set of
instructions, some riding the Zip, some following the Zip path the wrong
way, and some embarking upon a roundabout tour of Superior in the name
of shortcutting (yeah, that'd be Hood, from what I heard).  Eventually
trail was found near Zip stop #10, in front of Red Robins, and a number
of TT arrows directed the hounds through a throng of shoppers in the
outside promenade before turning abruptly north across the parking lot
and ducking into the subdivision there.  A maze of trails, rife with DPs
and TOPs, eventually brought the pack to the top of a long shiggified
slope, where they were observed by the hares, who were holed up in a
harehole they labelled the finish.  15 minutes, 2 CBs and a few precious
moments of unconcealed mocking, and the trio of FRBs - Hood, Chacockua
and Little Head - finally reached the conclusion of trail.  The rest of
the pack managed to close during this time, and it was not long before
they joined us.  A quick shuttle, and the hash retired to Hash House II
in nearby Lac Amora for down-downs.  Many, many songs were sung, and a
healthy amount of ale, both beery and ginger, was put away.  We outsang
a songmeister, fucked all the women, drank all the beer and puked in
someone's car, at least that's how I remember it.  We ran up and down
the alleyways by night, we knew the hares by sight, we ran from far to
near, then passed another beer.  When everyone was good and hammered,
down-downs were concluded and the Mongolloid table was broken out for
pong-based drinking games.  Despite a worthy attempt at suppressing a
lingering cold and croupy cough with hours of yelling/singing and beer
after beer, Deep's faltering health got the best of him, so this account
ends here.

Next hash:  this Saturday (1/19) at 2pm at Hash House III in
Westminster.  Pickup format.  Join us.

On-on,
Deep