The mob gathered, as usual. At Knothead’s place. Your scribe had thought that it was to have been at Smegma’s place, but who knows. So I hauled out my trusty GPS to get me there. Typing into the address line…” Knothead’s place” yielded #@$%&)!(##@@.
So that was the end of that. So much for useless technology. Take it back to Pea Beau’s mob to get a refund because their wretched machine doesn’t even know how to find Knothead’s place.
Anyhow, the pack assembled. Then we were waiting for Tonguer – as per bloody usual.
Eventually a Group 6 decision was made that he wasn’t coming tonight, and the hare sent us off with some fuzzy directions. I don’t remember much about the run itself, not very memorable, suffice to say that it was a pleasant amble in good weather around the streets of Andergrove. I suppose that the most memorable thing about it was that the trail formed a perfect rectangle. Even I did not get lost on this one. But a bloody lazy and unimaginative hare.
So, back to Knothead’s place, the Hash piss ute seemed to have undergone some radical restructuring since last week. But the beer was just as plentiful, and just as cold. Goodie.
For some reason, Knothead had started a fire off in one corner of the yard, so the pack was split into two centres. But who really cared. Nice snacks to fend off the hunger pains until the monk appeared in his habit-like monk’s attire. Something was definitely up.
Circle called. During the ensuing melee, the monk reprimanded Blurry, whose excuse was that he was talking on his phones speaker with Radish. Who cares. However the monk was having trouble exerting control over an increasingly unruly assemblage.
The hare was called for a down down. WHP gave a run report – Fucking Boring. And fair enough.
Knothead had barely downed his down-down when the monk blurted out his first joke. Kind of like he had been bottling it inside, and the joke finally burst out into the open. But nobody got it, so no harm done.
Blurry called Baagoose for a down down for something or other, unworthy of a mug of piss – but who cares?
The monk called for returning runners – Two Moons and Mr Squiggle.
Then the monk let fly with another joke – as bad as the first, and it, too, fell flat.
Blurry got a down down for failing to produce a run report for last week.
Smegma charged the monk for failing to adequately secure his possessions while sleeping in front of his TV, after more than a few scotches, with his earphones on. So somebody let themselves in, knocked off his iPad, phone, camera and wallet. Bloody Pea Beau.
The monk charged the GM for his birthday.
Golly called for a charge and a minute’s silence for Zorro and Prick.
Linda got a down down for sucking up to the monk.
The monk ordered all the circle onto their knees – with special dispensation for Flaps.
Welcome Cummalott
Linda was called front and centre. A Naming. First, after some discussion, she was christened as Cummalott.
Meanwhile, Two Moons is smooching Cummalott, but she didn’t seem to be too excited about his attentions. Resulting in a charge on Two Moons for over-achieving.
Second naming for Leanne who was called out front and centre. After some discussion, the name was chosen, with ensuing christening Drip Tray.
Welcome Drip-tray
Then a charge on Knothead for having a haircut while the pack was on the run.
Charge on Two Moons for new shoes. He got the full on proper fill and took it as a dunking – what a waste of piss.
Cummalott then charged Two Moons for Spillage.
In desperation, the monk closed the circle with the Hash Song.
Then to Hash Nosh – pretty good and tasty. Lots of piss and plenty of bullshit ensued.
Not a bad night’s business.
Your scribe, Baagoose
