PHHH #983.9 
Date: Sunday, April 11, 2004 
Weather: Tepidly raw 
Place: The abandoned Sub Shop at 601 and 518 to McMansion Place off Cherry 
Valley Road 
Time: 87 minutes 
Hare: Hand Solo 

Hounds: Jimmy Ruckfutgers, Kaiser Jan, Bjorn Dork, Wacko, Louisiana Reptile 
Fancier, Ouipee, Hey YO! Paully, Sarah Moore (2nd hash, appeared #966.9), 
Alan nka Premature Graduation, Dave Gable (sic, rookie), Caleb Howe (2nd hash, 
appeared and sank last week) 

Greeted en route: Mrs. Phinney 

As I Lay Whinin' 

    There been a lot o' fussin' of late from a couple a hounds what ought to 
know better, what with the 9 jillion hashes they been on, all whinin' 'n' 
cryin' how they ran past the on-in site or cut to a road and 'spected the pack 
to run into them.  Even thought the pack were lost in the woods when them PMSCBs 
(Pissin' 'n' Moanin' Short-Cuttin' Bastards) were off-trail! 

    Well, that Hand Solo, he's learned a thing or two 'bout settin', mebbe even 
picked up a clue from that Kaiser boy, all 'bout usin' the lay o' the land, bein' 
a jest a tad clever with yer marks on turrain we all bin on a thousand times, so 
nobody kin jump to con-clusions without endin' up shit's crick, or 10 miles from 
the on-in.  'Course, puttin' a checkmark ev'ry 50 yards don't hurt none either, 
'long with a regroup at the graveyard o' the shaky people.  The woods, they 
smelled right nice, not so much deer turds this week as cedar groves 'n' 
honeysuckle, plus we all got to meet Missus Phinney, workin' her plot with them 
mashed eggshells she saved up like S&H green stamps last winter.  Why dang if 
she weren't Dr. Phinney's wife to boot, makes sense if yew think 'bout it, and 
it shore impressed the young 'un what took a course with the perfesser at the 
uneeversity. 

    Hell, them young uns from orgo had a right fine time, got all tickled 'n' 
lit up with the shiggy--why I near bust a gut hearin' them holler 'bout a 
scratch on the kneebone like they been flogged by a bag o' wampus cats.  An' 
how 'bout that there Loosyanna Reptile Fancy Ear?  Prac'lly human he was, all 
talkin' 'n' a smilin' like he did this every week, runnin' all over tarnation 
and stayin' on trail, bein' all friendly with the students and so forth.  
Shucks, he even stood up fer the prezident in Eye Rack and nobody started 
whumpin' him like he were a three-legged swampdawg.  Even said he'd come back 
in Ought Five, mebbe sooner if the weather's right. 

    'Course, it helps if yew got some decent beer at the on-in, 'n' yew kin 
bet on Hand like he were the second comin' o' Secretariat he'll have sumpin' 
from Triumph, 'long with the ol' stand-by Vienna Fingers.  Dang, them ol' 
boys missed a helluva time, didn't even get their gobs 'round them licorice 
jelly beans, which were a mite finer than Pyroman's shit-filled peeps or 
squirrel soup for Easter dinner. 

Next up: 

#984.9 Sunday, April 18: Caleb Howe rashly volunteers to hare after two 
hashes, and some hounds will actually try to follow what passes for a trail. 

#985.9 Sunday, April 25: Nonsensei should mark a trail with a last of her 
belongings that ends at Fox Run so she can lead the pack in a protest over 
personalized utility metering.