Hashers,

For those of you who did not make it, and for those of you who did, but
are having trouble remembering, the Flatlanders held their 6th
annual/semiannual/monthly hash event this past Saturday.  While I'm
perhaps the least qualified to describe the trail since I spent very
little time on it, I'll give it a shot because I'm the designated
windbag.  

The pack gathered at Platt Middle School at Baseline and Cherryvale,
where they remained hareless for an unspecified, but obnoxious, amount
of time, with visions of illegal trail-laying fueling increasingly angry
remarks.  The hares finally showed up, and wisely took to the trail,
heading off in opposite directions (leaving no DP, which was evidently
to become a theme of the trail).  The hounds sped off in pursuit at a
slow walk, then a limping jog, and discovered that the two trails united
with a set of strange maps after a short while.  This 1/4 mile or so on
trail was too much for Cum Silent and myself to endure, so we took a
gamble on a swollen creek bed.  Of course, this immediately put us
behind the rest of the pack, who followed a street just to our right,
and after three more powders, Cum Silent and I were offpowder, never to
see another the rest of the day.

I will give you my account, briefly, since that's all I can account
for.  I took off north, after transmuting my shitstud into a
rambunctious dog, and quickly crossed Arapahoe in search of a fabled
canoe-docked jetty, this clue loosed by the virgin hare Joel in a fit of
carelessness a few weeks before.  I cut straight north to my favorite
railroad tracks, and broke my ankles along these for a mile or so,
before I stopped, faced with an ugly decision about which side of the
water treatment plant to take.  At this point, a halfmind in black came
limping along the tracks in the direction from which I'd come, only from
much farther down, and after a moment of contemplating ambushing what
was surely a hare, I calmed down and greeted Cum Silent, back from a
much longer "shortcut" than the one I'd taken.  We followed the tracks
for a spell, then noticed some strange heads jutting over a stone wall
at what appeared to be Legion Park.  I bravely sent Cum Silent up the
hill, and he beckoned shortly after, reuniting us with the pack and two
strangely-dressed folks, a landscaper hired to trim open space, and an
elderly curmudgeon who was sitting on a park bench, leering at little
girls with bad intent.  We were to later discover that the hares had
used trickery and disguise to throw off the pack, and they drank
appropriately.

The trail was considered a success by those who followed it, as the pack
arrived mostly together, with the clever shortcutters landing not 5
minutes later.  Short, with one hill.  Take notes, future hares.

Beer flowed, and there was one naming to mention.  The Hash Master
formerly known as Tyson Nunemacher has become "Deep In The End".  Those
of you who missed this solemn occasion will be punished accordingly
should you come crawling back.

Speaking of which, or next hash event will take place at an unspecified
time, at an unspecified location.  The hares have not been declared
yet.  Which brings me to an interesting decision.  Should we move to a
summer schedule which frees us of any weekend conflicts?  There has been
a movement to hold our events on Friday evenings, which would both
facilitate getting shitfaced and leave weekends to ultimate (or whatever
else you think you should be doing on summer weekends).  Please give me
feedback.  Also, if you're interesting in haring the next event, contact
me ASAP, otherwise I'll line something up on my own.

On-on,
Deep In The End