The Roast Lamb Run
Sputtering a handful of fireworks display by Agent Orgy, Discount Dildo, Just Daniel, Just Kailin, Karate and Pickle Boy brings interim jubilation according to local CONVENTION after hashing dinner. Meanwhile penumbral thick smoke is mushrooming into the sky. Immediately having it on one’s conscience that places a premium on further gross air pollution that would have been lasting five days of celebrating Chinese New Year through setting off a load of firecrackers and fifteen days of crowding into the temples to burn bunches of joss sticks, by hundreds million folks all together. The problem has been swept under the carpet from superstition to money-worship for an alleged TRADITION for thousands years. What of it! Who dare to count on a wholesome mentality out of such a timeworn CUSTOM?! Otherwise local specters passing themselves off as local ancestor jump out to sentence the iconoclasts and positive advisors to commit unfilial sin, even traitorous sin!
The hashers who come from all over the world observe local customs as much as possible when proceeding hashing event. Eighteen long-distance-free hashers click with a perfect paroxysm of local celebration of Occam’s Razor. Lost in Marks & Spencer functions as RA to bless three hares and hashing trail by humming Christmas-like song in starting circle. Sufficient sunshine pits against eccentric cold wind for a forthcoming warm season.
With merriment and excitement, fourteen hashing runners cut both ways to scrounge about color chalk marks at every turn which emblem a red-letter day. Rushing to a preferred direction without marks and hares for a while and then retracing one’s steps to check another way, Just Daniel at last spots a sign on curb of small carrefour. While crossing through a quiet railway, the hashers happen upon a mark lying on the ground, but pointing to the homebound way. West-Side Farter as major hare hastens to lead the way for moving forward till a mark of Open Check ahead. On right to run through the nose for nothing about the mark for a long time the most move on and have to return to, only a matter of DD playing a role of the hare, following up, in fact, she does not know the marked trail either. As coming back to a checkpoint, turning right to a long beeline empty street, Chelsea Sucks’s stood at other end and a little crossroad, shouting, “Beer Stop!” AO as another hare has started to order the beer at retail section as first beer stop. Good-hearted old lady owner takes out big pieces of cardboard to cushion over beer cases for the seats. Talking and drinking altogether by degrees for minutes. Lumme! Yet has nobody collected Hash Cash? Although Crash Test Dummy’s been here, who appears to do it by the book, however he was not told to be in charge by relative responsibles. Fortunately he keeps Hash cash in hands and can pay the beer. No appearance for three walkers.
Some brace themselves to comb out southward end of the street, Just Kailin who vanished for over ten years gets back to stage her persistence farther south by crossing a wide avenue cluelessly; Transylvestite is aware that it’s enough to be back to the drawing board. Upon hare’s word, a retro-direction should be right. After turning one’s brain to hot-foot it, catching sight of Just Sunny wearing earphone mic jogging alone; suddenly foregoing LiM&S afront yells out along the curb, “On On!” In an instant, setting eyes on Just Paul ahead, whooping up, “On On!” just straight on until encountering a point of Open Check at an intersection. After stealing the most’s thunder in confirmatory way for orbit perturbation, non-entreaty for mercy, AO subliminally brings sobering influence to bear on the confused by calling out an imaginary mark for an anagogical direction. Later on, surmounting a big foot bridge and down left to march for awhile, going right-face to the end for a detached mini-supermarket located in an open square. Inflecting an even-handed comparison between confab and nip by whizzing shivery wind gap no time, still not presence of walkers, the hashers have to kick off the trail for warming themselves.
Hair-triggered sensitive hashers are explicit about the trail of categorical imperative as soon as seeing hashing sign by sharp eyes such as Breakfast Included at a premium. Tagging along with hashing gravitational accretion to file into a hushful campus on a winding asphalt bypath, a mark of Three-Way spreads out the hashers. When PB is hanging a leg for a trail, BI catching up in time suffices to pinpoint a mark on a facet of curb to guide the hashers. The next is plasmoid’s calling for the marks in quick succession setting in stone. Keeping straightforward via a tiny iron door and two iron doorways as if they come under an ionosphere from anode and cathode of a monolithic structure fissioning dark umbra into momentary stupefaction accompanied by rediscovery for floured trail out of an entangled Open Check, a hustling street betrays unutterable marks on the ground to the hashers with allegorical gaze from leisure bystanders in which healthy act of one’s own accord is easily building on good terms with misunderstanding and ignorance that paragons panic-stricken jaundice and self-immolation-ish coup de grace. Perimetry trans-focuses on enjoying kinetic potential in having the marks in plain sight one after another, through a slant lane and rotate to home restaurant.
A down-down circle is settled in a parking lot adjoining to restaurant. CTD picks up Hash cash from all hashers. Hashing Gini coefficient between high and low energy must be less than 0.4 as international standard for sensation happiness. Look! hashing show is moderated by BI for acting GM and LiM&S for RA whose sparse hair seems to be magnetized to scatter erecting looks like bird’s nest; Nut’N Bone topping a quality cowboy hat and wearing long Guy Fawkes’s beard plays solo newcomer and hands out some stickers to the hashers then pops off first; soon after, either latest comer or newcomer called Just Maureen squeezes in the circle; CTD drawing a manifest two digits on his right cheek–69, marking his No.69 runs in Beijing HHH, it’s a pity that’s not a running patch for him; Shaven Not Stirred donning a snow-white fur coat and wrapping up skintight flaming underclothing is like a rare species paying a visit from North Pole with climate change; volante and panegyrical Hash songs are crooned in limping tone. Two Piece from QingDao makes her way to join Beijing Hash event to walk around; three hares cannot dodge to bib over and again; LiM&S leads a chorus for Swing Low in his unique tune as emphatic end. Twelve hashers scarf a local Northwest snacks to the full that entertain angels unawares. And then all hashers, as per local mores, hold fists to salute Karate as a local senior hasher and exclaim in unison, “Congratulations and strike it rich!”
February 24, 2015