ON – On #11

Atlanta #1329

January 20th – Coffee Bean

start: Candler Park

Playing tricks on us the weather appeared to be bright and beautiful but the cold jaws of winter lurked and the pack shivered and refused to expose flesh to the elements, mostly preferring to remain bundled up.

For the benefit of our hapless virgins Bean bumbled through the chalk talk and did a really great job of seeming completely incompetent. Palm outstretched and crooked grin on face he introduced the hash to the ominous collection of spent bullets he had found on trail and bid us adieu. Thus the hounds were sent off with a carefree wave, and a prayer.

On! On!

Trail was found and soon the pack were dodging wayward balls and disgruntled tennis players as the hare’s scent led straight across the courts.

Bean then delivered a little slice of the New Age as we found ourselves plodding through the quaint little crusty haven at Lake Claire. A hand painted sign informed us that we had found “the exact centre of the known universe” however as any self respecting Doctor Who follower should know that is utter tosh because of course the exact centre is actually Terminus.

Despite polite mutterings from the back that there was probably proper foot passage out of the hippy drum circle most hashers seemed content to ignore such killjoys, actually stuck to trail, and lined up to scramble through a small hole in the fence which popped us out like bewildered lemmings onto Dekalb Ave.

Traffic safely dodged, the pack sprinted off down the straight and the keenies became mere specks in the distance never to be seen again until the On In.

Arizona Avenue dead ended into a goodly amount of shiggy to pick through and from this point on I was grateful to have a running companion to accompany me through the hood. And run we did…for our lives.

Cruising around Coan Park Martha and I were out short cutted by a short cut which turned out to actually be rather a long cut that merely seemed like a short cut when we embarked on it thinking that it seemed like a good idea at the time, it wasn’t.

As we were ruminating on this apparent rip in the space time continuum Dawgy and ?? took us from behind looking terribly flushed, out of breath and claiming to have been doing a marathon. That what you call it fellas?

Back off the road and into more welcome shiggy, we clambered alongside a creek clinging to the bank with sheer determination and managing a cheery wave and smile for the hard hatted construction workers gawping as we scrambled past.

Up ahead something must’ve scared a fellow hasher. Somebody seemed to have shat a house load of hairy green bricks on what I will loosely term the path.

As the creek disappeared into a dark forbidding tunnel our only route out of the gully was to scale a steep embankment of dead kudzu hiding lurking prickly brambles. Clambering prostrate up the last stretch, the elation I felt upon making it to the top fairly unscathed soon turned to fear as my nose hit upon a pair of Reeboks stranded running up the bank as if
their owner had been evaporated mid stride.

Pushing such thoughts aside, across Memorial we dashed and onwards to the scary Memo Drive shopping centre. Martha suggested skirting all the way around the wire fence rather than having to slide beneath, until I pointed out the nice gaping hole in the mesh.

We crossed I-20 at Maynard Terrace with joyful hearts, eager to be heading in the familiar direction of home. Indeed, I was beginning to get a little nervous that the Hash did rather seem to be steering it’s way towards my own little hovel. It was thus a relief to change direction and be confronted with the welcome sight of Tripod offering drinkies out of the back of a van.

A cold one was guzzled before continuing on up the road now to hack through the streets to EAV in the illustrious company of Skin Flute and Supersuck? Wasn’t too long before we saw the back of them again though.

Down Flat Shoals and through the village to Brownwood Park we chugged. By this point trail was pretty superfluous as we transformed into a pair of sleek guided missiles homing in on the waiting beer at Bean’s House and making it to the On Down that all important, not DFL.


It being a chilly day Coffee Bean did his best to warm our loins with a bonfire, however, during his not so extensive Girl Guide training Coffee Bean was obviously busy looking for sparks elsewhere as today he struggled to ignite his flame in the backyard. Maybe he was working on his Communication Badge? He certainly seemed to be sending smoke signals to those hashers still pounding the trail.

**Picture Exclusive!** Just in! After extensive research in Bean’s archives this scribe is proud to bring you this never be seen before photographic evidence of Bean’s infiltration of Lord Baden Powell’s movement.

Car hashers galore poured into the On Down and saved a goodly amount of us from having to do Down Downs ourselves. Most notable non running wimp was P Diddy strutting his stuff in his pimp suit and shiny penny loafers.

Bean’s signature look on TV’s “What Not To Wear” was voted to be “Just crawled out of bed.”

Tripod fooled nobody by launching into a completely made up on the spot hash song and had to do a Down Down in penance.

Finally, congratulations were in order for both Big Bore and Martha Screw-It who were presented with their 100th run tankards. Pip ray! Pip ray! Pip ray!

Supersuck, Ouch, Tripod, Just Julie, Surly Temple, Piggy’s Bitch, Ass We Go, Poon Shine, Boner, Who Flung Doo, Skin Flute Pie, ET The Extra Testicle, Hump Day, Nibbles N Bits, Just , Will You Suck, Fairy Juice, Big Bore, Push Over, Ass Mint, Just Kathryn, Just Meredith, Martha Screw-It, Doggy Style, Tasty Pie, Furry Balls, Show Uranus, Taste Great, Wet Dreams, Fill My Cavity, Mustard Panties, Gender Bender, Spread Eagle, High Dicker, Hot Pocket, Busted Cherry, TLS, PWD, Maxwell Twat.

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