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The Earth—-Our Globe Run

Greenism, nowadays, is paramount to any policies from governments, Parties and organizations as never before by advocating a lifestyle of environmental protection, health, safety and saving. Because apathy commits adultery with inordinate personal desires to invite mishmash of mishaps on regular basis. Wealth distribution is re-polarized to prick up Mathew Effect immediately rubbing salt into the wound of ringent rift. Femtosecond laser can rectify human short sight with changing all physical forms to be plasma in a split second for visible things. But still cannot dispense with excesses and vices of human character on the dark side. Conscious activity caters for essence of the things like Hashers do in simply and doable fashion per week.

Lost in Marks and Spencer sloping the mission of RA rushes in a starting point to patter a train of blessings for three hares and hashing trail, it’s a virgin location where the hashers behave in northern 5th ring road. Most of estimated thirty hashing boffins are tinged with green sports clothes and each jazzes up with a colorful balloon. Running a small loop in an arc of hutongs and then along the main street to move forward farther northerly, in a beeline. Sobering mind gets dizzied by heat wave from summer-like steaming sunlight.  Extra Dry leads the way with gimlet eyes; Finger My Dough as hare makes up some marks for an implication. Passing through couples of crossroads and still locate the trail toward the northernness and at length, turning right to cut through a basketball court and hit deserted green belt decking with obsolete stone sculptures and a massive column with intricate carving erecting in a dry pool where the runners take team photos. Some stream with sweat already. When spreading out for an Open Check, Chokes One Out first pinpoints a direction by shouting out one mark. Along with the main road to shake off some Three-Ways at crossroads and on left and on right and on left in the compounds. The first beer stop is hunted up downstairs living building. Cold beer mitigates exhaustedness in proportion. Crash Test Dummy stands sidelong to shade squat Super Squirter so that the feverish solar rays cannot bake over her. The runners and walkers guided by Transylvestite playing a walking hare gather to take a break from talk and sip for a short time. FMD breathes out the words, “Open Check!”

Along with avenue to course westward until encountering a Three-Way at a crossroad and beer does fuel up the body to be a gelivable brunt with no any vertigo and then COO scoops out a sign afresh down a canal bank. Clean environment and a small group of locals woodsheding their string instruments, slate passageway leading up to southern part for a long stretch, Bearded Clam and Pickle Boy nakedize their upside with ease and verve that seem to seek a dip in the water, making right up to a block street on to a crossroad, on left for a distance without any sign, West Side Farter still stings this way and has to phone to survive a lost trail. Moving back for a while and soon locking on the second beer stop at sidewalk in the bag. There’s a game of musical chairs for ice-cream for some runners and walkers. In terra incognita, seems to find out a number of similarities between local curious eyes expressions and local vehement susurrus, what a stud for hashers! What a world-beating hipster! sloshing in and out of oracularity. After enamouring with a relaxation by chat and nip, taking a road for granted.

To plateau the bearing of the trail homeward by observing a signpost. Just Jay as one of quintete visitors from South Africa has accommodated himself to hashing rule and rows over back to a terminating point via a block street by a block street; Dry Hole seems to sweep out all Open Checks and Three-Ways and instead generates oxytocin more and more; Waiting for It who’s only one putting a white quality mask and big-size sun-glasses luxuriates in her average speed all the way; Red Snatcher squeezes out gold time to snapshot the hashers’s zing; Cums With Milk and newcomers have more online vigilantism but a squelcher; Hard To Live With draws out good mood to Ginger Cunt. While reaching at restaurant, Karate as latecomer looks like doing an elbow grease to meet up the hashers; of course, Nut Pirate consistently turns up for just a circle. A grand finale yields to the circled performance in a lane behind restaurant.

BC crowning his flocky fox tire for GM and DH for RA in sequence fanfares to mobilize jocosity and participation of every hasher, according to the process, to bumper three hares and five visitors to be welcomed with Hash song and little souvenir as well as punishing latecomers and long-time-no-sees for their idelness with swizzling; SS volunteers BeerBitch to attend the hashers in dressing particular high hat and bright vest; PB is called in with a virid cucumber to encourage his offbeat genre; Heart On is hailed in circle for her competency as Hash Cashier; high part epitomizes to take naming unawares by RA towards Just Chen, on his knees in circle, topless and sockless, going through hot discussion by the hashers on site and then striking a chord with Just The Tip for his attainment. In a moment, a torrent of beer baptism over his body accompanied Hash song, scream and laughter freezes on a few minutes; DH’s feat for singing Hash songs has been manipulative to the scene to a nicety; LiM&S as co-RA pilots a “hotair balloon” to be higher and further lentamente by chorusing Swing Low with all hashers to next overture.  Fetus Envy springs out for Hash food; ten diners are disposed of a substantial meal, in WSF’s special dish—squiggling his body to paraphrase knock-on effect between the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxy to his ass and ultimate limit is to rename Neil DeGrasse Tyson as Pluto Fucker in hashing universe.

On On…

Pickle Boy

Beijing. Tuesday,

April 28, 2015