PRINCETON HHH HASH #894.4

Date: August 14, 2002
Weather: Viral
Venue: Cadwallader Park, Trenton
Set: WiPi
Time: 1:01
Hashers: Ice Blue Balls, Tropical Depression, Ex Utero, Hand Solo, Dancing Fool,
Weatherman, Wacko, Geezer

Descriptions, Polemics, and Lies:

West Denial Virus

The dead crows should have tipped us off. They were everywhere, scattered among 
the sordid trash heaps and decaying refuse of this formerly great industrial city. 
There were two explanations: either Dr. No had returned and fed the poor birds his 
typical On In fare, or WeePee was trying to infest us all. About half the pack hit 
upon the brilliant avoidance technique of not running the trail - right! cross the 
canal and run down the other side. No marks, but also no dead birds and who needs 
those stinkin' marks anyway? Alas, their brilliant strategy was thwarted when they 
ran onto marks anyway. WiPi had out-thought them, which says a lot about the 
collective mental powers of that half of the pack.

The others, stolidly, yes, even bovinely persisted on trail, dodging the avian 
virus factories as best they could until confronted with a new mark, halfway between 
an F and a check - a "P" for pitiful, carped the Geezer. "Rescue" by OuiPui ensued, 
and the two halves were reunited by the setter in a particularly unsettling way.

We all knew it would eventually have to happen, and it did. There in front of us, 
below yet another mean and tired street of the dead city, lay the great grey-green 
greasy Limpopo - sorry, Delaware River, its oily waters sluggishly oozing past the 
debris-littered verge. Strange, ominous shapes surfaced from time to time in the 
dusk as no fewer than three pale suns rose and fell in an orange sky. WeePee had 
led us to the beach at the end of time, and surely we were now condemned to confront 
our ultimate fates. One could hear the protons decaying in those weird, dimming suns 
- pop pop pop they quietly went, as the doomed pack entered the waters, slowly 
making its way across with the resolution of the damned.

And there they all remain - now transformed into aetherial wraiths, forever sipping 
Schmidt Lite and dipping plastic chips into a strange salsa concocted from materials 
that never saw anything living.

Hash #895.4, Wednesday, August 21,  who knows who sets?