PRINCETON HHH HASH #632.4

Date:     November 9, 1997
Weather:  shitty (but in the nicest possible way)
Venue:    Plainsboro Community Park
Time:     1 hr plus some minutes? (twice that for 242)
Set By:   Jeff Skaar
Hashers:  Wendy Sullivan, Jeff Skaar, Delay Lllama, Always Open, 
          Bang Him Harder, Hey Yo! Paully, Valerie "face-plant" Harr, 
          242, Valerie's Friend, Reluctant Breeder.


Descriptions, Polemics, and Lies:

                       Lose 1 242 in Half an Hour!!!

A small group of total wankers with grossly overdeveloped flour-sniffing 
frontal lobes, and one slightly nervous-looking but otherwise bright-eyed
and 
bushy-tailed newbie turned up.  They came despite vicious rumors that the 
hare was a severely under-aged drinking-challenged no-show in the beer 
department, and that he had set in the infamous
fascist-bastard-Clem-patrolled
radioactive pit-bull pit only a week after Bang Him Harder had narrowly 
avoided the exact same disaster.  
 
Jeff regaled the hapless hounds with various and sundry warnings about the 
Impenetrable Shiggy Arrow, the possibility of washed-out marks, "more of a 
road-run than you might like", some weirdo in a 4x4 who followed at close 
range until "I lost him" (a hare who can outrun a Blazer?), and terrifying 
threats to abandon us before the On In for his grandparents.

After a bit of thrashing about aimlessly the hounds were off, hormones 
inflamed by the musky smell of raw dehydrated bread-powder.  Thankfully the 
trail snaked out of Community Park in the Clemless direction, albeit into 
woods thick with shiggy and Trespass And Die You Pinko Hippie Bedwetter
signs.
Just the usual kind of warnings that the freedom-loving hounds ignore every 
week in the name of the Founding Fathers, Liberty, some silly Amendment or 
other, and a cooler full of ice-cold weasel-piss.

Most notable was the False on the wrong side of the river that "jumpie-boy" 
242 never managed to recover from.  He valiantly stuck to his imaginary
trail 
even as the hounds followed the path of truth and enlightenment away into
the 
forest while his cries diminished in volume to that of a sparrow's fart,
then 
stopped altogether.  After apparently running halfway around NJ, 242 was 
finally found by the search party, still alive but cold, after sundown. 

No marks had washed out, so the remaining pack cruised on in to the On In 
where there was real beer, some idiot spilled all the pretzels, Hey Yo! 
Paully left a flour signal on the ground in case 242 happened to fly over in 
an airplane, and Jeff had wimped out on his bone-chilling grandparent threat.


On On,

A Known Hasher (?)