It’s time Charles Darwin was exposed for the fraud he was.

8 ripsnorters get our fill of the hashing at a crisp night in Xidan area. Thanks an ablution to the air and the earth by a heavy rain ahead of game. Lick It To Ride volunteers to the first haring and scats. 10 minutes later, the others like escadrille chase for his floured footsteps. The trail is clear and witty from the hutongs through the street and the intersection to the hutongs. The noises from the people and the vehicles speechify and preachify to distraction and stupefaction, except these hashers focusing on advancing the trail. Dry Hole seems to jingle a tambourine in his heart to check more turnoffs of Open Check marks. The quiet and snaky alleyway leads the hashers up to the first beer stop at a corner in a lane. The local owner of the shop advises with kindness drinking the cold beer harms the health when running. DH hums in quirkish Chinese language to drink. Triple X-Ray talks less with hashers by standing away. FMH Cash Hot Cockalate runs away to mark the second haring. Taking a break and then hitting the road.

The broad streets and the sleepy business compounds teem with the Open Check marks. The inkling of the instinct bides our time to jump on the right track in the scraps and shreds of deliverance. Crossing into a dark hutong to see a brightly-lit shop where it’s the second beer stop. TXR and Finn Diesel spurt ahead. Talk and sip relax the hashers. DH is called to make the third haring for the last part. After he figures out the map, he going to scrape a hole. Minutes later, the hashers start to catch him in post-haste. Once landing the main road, the most recognize the trail to home restaurant, however, the Open Check mark bewilders the hashers. When each byway is groped for nothing of the marks, the personal action reckons it up. 3 hashers lose the way like Pickle Boy, Agent Orgy and Finger My Dough, and going back to restaurant without the marks. TXR moves away beforehand. A carton of sponsored cold beer Taste Room entertain the hashers.

An empty one-car parking space in a middle of a row of cars under the street lamp we find out to be our circle site. 7 hashers are like 7 Nobel laureates to support the Intelligent Design by singing rounds of classic Hash songs that seem to uncouple the noose of ill-natured motive and roily cognition for this topsy-turvy world, and each is hailed in such a cabinet circle for every single idiosyncrasy. Suddenly a fit of hurrah by the hashers receives Karat to show up as latecummer. Then all hashers look up to howl over a moonless sky. 5 hashers engorge a hearty dinner and FD pays it to treat these hashers as his finishing a visit at BJH3, also a mini-box of Finnish candy for these hashers, how toothsome! There is something inside, that they cannot get to, that they cannot touch, that’s ours.

On On…

Pickle Boy
Beijing. Friday,
August 18, 2017