PHHH #954.9

Date: September 21, 2003

Weather: good for an hour

Location: Church of St. Anne, patron-saint of shiggy, to the Mlodzinski abode by the water tower 
in Lawrenceville

Time: 60 minutes for Ouipee, 90 minutes for the pack

Hare: Hey YO! Paully

Hounds: Wacko, Femtowacko, Safe Sweats, Pyroman, Speedbumps, Little Blue Butt, Jimmy Ruddfutgers, 
Jan, Weatherman, Ouipee, Brain Injury Volunteer, Phil 

Dave Driscoll wrote: "hey man, i was there too, and i want a name."

Seen at the On-in: Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!, Natural Born Lesbian, Tropical Depression, Ice Blue 
Balls, Ex Utero, Tables Toes, The Commish, Juicy, non-hashing spouses, Ma and Pa Harr, and more 
Mlodzinskis than there are letters in the Polish alphabet. 


Possibly seen at the on-in: Zachary Noah Mlodzinski


The Hash Baptismal

    Perhaps Paully needs placement in a Hash School for the Gifted and Talented.  Maybe some of us 
Just Don't Get It.  But there's a new gang in town, the young and the stupid: gifted and talented 
wankers from fancy universities who don't know where Paully lives, who can't tell a debacle from 
a debutante, and who are still willing to follow the hare's devious plottings for 90 minutes on a 
day that really deserved a beercheck-turned-on in a swimming pool after 45.

    Everyone, save Wacko and virgin hound Femtowacko, who were beset by bees last seen three years 
ago and never even made it to the park of the end of Wacko's old street, arrived at the powerlines 
and a checkmark with falses in three directions.  One was especially long, but Jimmy Ruckfutgers 
spotted a big F, much to everyone's disappointment, and a lack of marks on the adjacent golf course.  
North to 206 and Rider and thence across 95 by an overpass seemed dull but appropriate, but no marks 
led to the Mill Hill gentry calling it a day (Little Blue Butt's face was almost as red as Chugger's 
after a 25 oz. Foster's, and he had homework to do).  Ouipee went exploring for marks along 206, 
perhaps out of the golf course, during which time the depleted pack disappeared.  It hardly seemed 
worth tracking them backwards, so on on Weepee went, cross-campus, woods, under graceful power 
lines and birds of prey circling over his wasting frame, before finding the holy overpass and 
staggering through the burbs to the backyard festivities.  A wide-ranging and frank discussion 
ensued between hare and hound on the ethics of setting a true and false trails 20 yards apart 
before they returned to the start only to find fat kids on bikes trying to steal Safe Sweats's 
bitchin' red 'Vette with the Cali plates.  Back to the general hilarity, where the pack was unfazed 
by the subject of Wepi's ire.  In fact there had been two parallel false-trues, they'd sniffed out 
both and summarily dealt with the cranky property owner armed with a powerful snub-nosed leaf blower.

    "Watch out or I'll, I'll . . . "

    "What? Blow us away? Har Har Har!"

    "I own all the land back here!" shouted squire, but the ragged mob only jeered him into the golf 
course fence not 50 feet behind and proceeded their merry way.

    So Paully was right and Huipi was wrong and Zachary got his pass into heaven and everyone else 
got beer and good food.