STEVENSON HALL HHH HASH #164.2 Date: Sunday, March 20, 1988 Weather: Looming Set by: Lopez/4, Pascal Runners: The Geezer, Keuffel, Wachspress, Kaufman, Hyde, Pushnermaybe Crypto Runners: Effross "First to Cooler" Joe Burns, Keuffel Description, comments: It's 30 minutes before the Hash and Mrs. Geezer calls The Geezer as he labours in his office slaving over yet another CIA sponsored contract. "There's been a strange phone call," says she, "The person sounded really out of it. Something about everything going wrong and no hash." Surely not. Everything may well go wrong; but that's no impediment. So the trusting Geezer met the rest of the smallish, but intrepid band waiting behind the usual dreary dumpsters. As the time rolled by without a sign of the putative setter, even the most naively hopeful eventually came to realize that the unspeakable had happened. This was indeed to be an [ADANDONED HASH]. There was whispering, bitching and moaning aplenty, and even the occasional sign of mewling and puking as the stalwart seven awaited the appearance of "One Quarter" Lopez.... Eventually the villain of the piece appeared, books in hand and excuses at the ready. "Arggh. It were awful", the miscreant One Quarter cried, "I was almost drownded and near froze to death in the Great Blizzard." The Geezer looked about in vain for snow; Hyde threw another end-over-end to Keuffel on the horizen as she searched for the remnants of the phantom ice storm. "You dare not try it," One Quarter screamed, "I was almost killed by the thorns, abandon hope all ye who...." Finally Wachspress threw him in one of the dumpsters, The Geezer found a pail full of lime and it was decided to let the Reptile Fancier himself loose upon the land to set a "Hares and Hounds" starting from One Quarter's endpoint. "You'll never survive," came a faint call from the depths of one of the malodorous dumpsters, but off we were regardless. Elemridge Road was One Quarter's start, and a couple of faint feints led to a right angle turn into the woods at the edge of Rosedale Park. The remnants of Bambi's cousin marked the turn, in what all admitted was a nice touch of creative trail marking. Marks abounded as the pack passed arrows oh so carefully etched upon the turf. In a twinkling the pack found themselves confronted with the LRF at the edge of a stream, and paused to reflect upon how a mere 10 minutes sufficed to reach the end of One Quarter's efforts. What slowed Lopez down? This was the subject of some debate, as the call of "Hashit, Hashit" began to be heard from all sides. We finally decided that it must have been the right angle turn right at the start that demoralized poor 1/4. Does he deserve the dreaded Hashit? Recall that it was awarded to MJ III after he set an 8 minute hash and vanished into the depths of the Meadowlands. That's a tough act to follow. Yet, this was an ABANDONED HASH, and that's a crime never to be taken lightly. Enough. It's time for a changing of the guard, and the new BEARER OF THE HASHIT is: 1/4 Lopez. As the group crossed the brook, the LRF vanished into the middle distance, yellow pail of "used toro" in hand, and numerous crawling things in tow. The group passed time with a brief frolic in the playground and only left after the park rangers threatened Wachspress and Kaufman with a 5-15 stretch in Rahway for unnatural acts on the swings. Around the lake we ran, eventually diving into the woods to emerge again running through fields of wintery gorse and thorns. We skirted another lake, crossing a dank swamp only to enter another overgrown field. No trail here, but the pack persevered anyway, losing itself in a series of markless dirt roads and desolate houses. Keuffel found a horizon to run to, Pushnermaybe slipped uphill and vanished, silent as Mertz, and the rest wandered randomly in vain. Wait...wait...wait... then, from far, far away came the Cry of Pushner (who had stumbled on to Pascal) ever so quietly, 0n 0n... Through the woods we searched, eventually finding the LRF who told us that Pushnermaybe was light years ahead searching quietly through the woods. The Geezer led at this point, taking the depleted pack past an evidently empty car in which two of New Jersey's youth were doing their best to arrest the population decline. An old barn, potential, yet unused site of myriad hashends appeared, as did the now lost Pushnermaybe. More woods, more fields, more wrong turns finally led us downhill to the end, where Keuffel returning from the horizon just lost out to Joe Burns at the cooler. At the end, as the Geezer slipped back into his Geezerheim, a paper bag appeared on his doorstep with a pathetic note appended, which, with the Geezer's permission, I shall quote in its entirety. Draw your own conclusions. "Where were you? I was there at 2. Here's something for next week's cooler. E-man." Next Hashes: #165.2 Sunday, March 27, 2 pm Stevenson 91. Wachspress sets in Monmouth Junction. #166.2 Sunday, April 3, 2 pm Stevenson 91, Keuffel sets a horizontal hash. #167.2 Sunday, April 10, 2 pm Stevenson 91, Hyde?