PRINCETON HASH 476.4

DATE:	October 9, 1994
HARE:	The Geezer
WEATHER:	  Incredibly pleasant for a Geezer hash
HOUNDS: LRF, RoJo, Delay Lllama, Wacko, Likes It, 242, BIG NUT
VENUE:	S of Hopewell - E across Aunt Molly Rd - N across Rte. 518 - W - along
railroad		tracks - S through Hopewell to start - little W,N,E loop at end.

GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY

It was unfortunately fitting that Big Nut's return to the Princeton faithful was
marked (mismarked) by the Geezer's return to the "psychological warfare" tactics
the Nut unwittingly assumed for his inimitable style.  Not only were arrows
meaningless on this "check mark-less" hash, but they ineluctably pointed in the
worst possible direction, a fact the hounds time and again refused to apprehend.


The run began auspiciously at the (abandoned orphanage?) end location of Geezer
and Genghis Kahne's now infamous 4th of July hash -- the Madam's first run (she
brought 5 men with her) as well as the initial sighting of Dybvig Senior.  After
a brief respite for the Reptile Fancier to identify,Smellslikus Effrossu, a
"musk" turtle (protects itself from predators by raising a musky odor), the
trail rose up into the hills and fields south of Hopewell. 242 called an
impromptu regroup to suggest we make lots of noise and stick together as
crossbow hunting season had just opened.  "Ha," laughed the veterans.  "We
haven't had a death by crossbow in over 3 years!"  None were to afeared when
immediately confronted by a Robin Hood wannabee as well as an irate landowner
inquiring of the Geezer, "Do you know those people (trespassing on my
property)?"  "No.  Never seen 'em before."  (Doesn't this guy know Mr. Barker
said it was okay?)  Undaunted by fear of death, the LRF and Wacko took off onto
the old trail and found themselves separated from the pack by a briar-filled
marsh, ON-ON cries vanishing into the thickness.  The LRF remarked, "Nothing
would please the Geezer more than getting you and me lost on his hash," and
promptly vanished forevermore.

Meanwhile, the stalwart pack of hounds hacked their way out to Rte. 518 and were
a mere 100 yards from asphalt when Likes It sprained her ankle in a cornfield
and 242 gallantly hefted her onto his shoulders and carried her to the Geezervan
where no doubt there would be ice in the cooler (NOT).  Lashing a Rolling Rock
to her swollen appendage, Likes It seemed content to spend the remainder of the
afternoon monopolizing the apres stash.  The rest of the pack continued.  Little
did they know the horror in store.

It was sad, actually, a terrible relapse of that dreaded hare malady -
meddlitis.  After a deliciously malicious seven mark false trail down the
railroad tracks followed by an arrow pointing into oblivion (that would have
sent Solo and No to Belmar) the Geezer appeared and proceeded to lead the pack
for the next ten minutes as if anything but instantaneous intuitive psyching of
the trail was equivalent to hopeless confusion.  In another moment he had
whisked the entire pack into the Geezervan for an abbreviated finish, (except
for Wacko, who recognizing the symptoms had quickly run off).  But in fact,
though an hour and a half had passed, the mileage was low enough that most were
eager to traverse the entire official trail before setting off to search for the
LRF's body.  It was never recovered, but a mysterious sign, penned in blood, was
uncovered about 6 miles from where the LRF vanished.  It read, "IRAN BACK".

SUNDAY October 16   2PM     In Up To His Waist sets
SUNDAY October 23   2PM     Solo sets
SUNDAY October 30   2PM     Village Idiot sets Halloween Hash