I pulled up in the VA Hospital car park (adjacent to the pub's lot) in time to catch Dog-In-Drag preparing for a training run. In hindsight, I suppose that would have qualified as competitive behavior - note that for next time. Anyway, after I'd had time to change into appropriate Hashing attire, Irish Stewl made his appearance, completing a Taco Hell training meal as he drove up. Close behind him was the Hare, Stuff That Sucks. After a short discussion, Stuff indicated the he was confident enough about his trail that the previously arranged assistance from Irish was no longer necessary. (Make a note here, this is important for later.)

he remainder of the pack straggled in: Vommit Dog, Dave Blumenfeld, Body Fluid Hazard (nee Mark Davis, until last week's Dayton Hash), Dog-In-Drag (back from his run), D.C. Hedrick (thank goodness SOMEbody brought beer), and, fashionably late, Red Hot Chili Pecker (sporting a new coif) and Nameless Bitch. Stuff did his chalk talk: this is a Check, this is a Hash mark, this is a Back Check, this is a YBF... (omitted was, "and these are the last of any of those marks that you'll ever see - at least in the daylight). So, begging for at least ten minutes, off went Stuff toward the woods behind the hospital. One minute would have been plenty.

Feeling way too philanthropic, we waited the full nine minutes before whistles were blown and "On-On" was shouted. Off, into the woods, down, ever down, ever toward the river we trotted... toward our first real challenge of the night. Vommit spotted a YBF off a side trail, but Hash continued down the hill to a BC (within sight of the river, I might add). Mass confusion ensued. Did we miss a Check? Was the Check somehow obliterated? Dazed, the entire pack spent the next twenty minutes(!) scouring the brush to the sides of the trail between the BC and the YBF, utterly convinced that the BC trail would be located. Finally, desperate, we decided to go back up the hill to the car park - after all, that's were the last check we actually SAW was. To everyone's consternation, at the edge of the lot was a HUGE Hare arrow pointing toward us (ie. into the woods)!!?!?! "Did anybody see that when we came by here before?" Nope, neither the FRB's nor the Sweepers, nor anyone in between had seen anything remotely like that before! Stupefied, some of us ran back to the cars anyway - nope, nothing new there... At long last, On-On whistles were heard - someone had chanced upon the tiniest of Hare arrows about 50 yards down the hill leading off to the left. ON-ON!!

On-On to adventure number two! After following trail in the woods for about a third of a mile (and waiting for D.C. to pee), we emerged from the woods at a set of tennis courts, and, of course, a distinct lack of Hash marks. We searched around the tennis courts (several times), on the tennis courts, along the woods... and generally annoyed the tennis players (most of whom thought we'd lost either a dog or a child). Again, confusion reigned supreme. RHCP and I finally decided to go back into the woods to the last few Hash marks we'd seen. And though dusk was rapidly engulfing us - low and behold, back two Hash marks and off to the left - TRAIL! Now we begin to understand. This is the Imaginary Check Mark Hash! On-Ons sound again, and we're off to pavement and a parking lot where someone spots a circled "X". We stood in awe. What could it be?? OH, YEAH, that looks like that thing Stuff had drawn in the car park about an hour ago and called it a Check! Feeling much better now, we found trail leading downhill (again) into the woods (again) to a BC (again). By this time it was dark as pitch, so flashlights were broken out and trail was eventually found crossing a field and a fence onto the streets of Ft. Thomas.

Running to and checking at the next to Checks was good training for me for the coming weekend's half marathon. Finally, on a dark and lonely side street, having once again lost all signs of trail our shadows cast long by a sole, dim street lamp, feeling thirsty, abandoned, thirsty, tired, and thirsty, the decision was made to make our own way back to the pub. Little did we know that we were within spittin' distance of the BN where an entire van load of beer awaited us, dutifully guarded by Stuff's wife. (This is not any easier to accept, having found out later that Stuff cruised by in his car... "You guys okay? Go that way." Hunh?)

Well, during the sprint back to the pub (more marathon training), we once again encountered trail, but our FRBs somehow always managed to find "pack trail" leading the shortest known distance to South Ft. Thomas Avenue and the Olde Ft. Thomas Pub. Sure enough, arriving back at the pub, we found "ON IN" from the opposite direction (or, from our perspective, it read "NI NO", but we knew what it meant), and sensed beer nearby. Something to do with the neon "Coors" and "BUD" and "Lite" signs in the window - hey, we're not completely clueless. Stuff arrived shortly: "Hey, where were you guys??"

Needless to say, beer was quickly ordered (in large quantities) and the circle was formed in short order. The Hare was first to drink: "GOOD trail, Stuff." "Yeah, really SWELL." Down-down-down-down... The Hare was second to drink, having been a virgin Hare. Irish proceeded to explain the purpose of Checks, and I promised the Hare a raise so he could afford flour in the future... actions that cost Irish and I down-downs - Irish because he was SUPPOSED to run with the Virgin Hare, me because I work with Stuff and had failed call a special meeting to explain the art of laying trail.

The only Hash crime that was immediately apparent was Irish's inside-out race shirt, and I seem to recall some whining involved, but have lost the details. Vommit, having spent a good deal of the evening running with Body Fluid Hazard (BFH) suggested a renaming to Big Fucking Ham - the "Aye's" unanimously voted for the renaming. BFH did his down-down and is now and forever (until the next renaming) Big Fucking Ham in Sin City and Body Fluid Hazard in Dayton. Can he do that? Whatever.

D.C. explained her profession to us - she's in corrugated box sales. That, in and of itself, almost earned her a name. But upon further elaboration regarding a particular customer who'd called to order a, umm, a, uhh, a Tight Box (and DC's apparent response, "Honey, you've called the right woman!"), a winner somehow became apparent. DC did her down-down (very well, I might add), and is now and forever the fourth Tight sister, Tight Box. We shall have to have a Tight Party. It was later discovered that TB was wearing a race shirt under several layers (how'd you do that, Vommit?), which cost her another down-down - again, no problem.

Dumb-Ass announcements: Anal Vice reminded everyone of next Saturday's (19th) Red Dress Run in Dayton (Neon Movie Theatre, 5th and Patterson Downtown Dayton, 16:00) - seems that several will be going, and there was interest in hotel-ing it in Dayton for the night. I've asked Barrel Roll for Downtown Dayton (or nearby) hotel information - we'll see what pans out, and consider that in the car pooling arrangements. AV also reminded all of the next SCH4 Hash, run #29, Saturday, 26.October at 14:30 at the Mount Lookout Tavern. Hare is Shackle My Balls... Need I say more??

With the circle having been closed, a feast of pizzas, beer, chips (regular AND barbecue - we were supposed to get some of these at the Beer Near!), beer, pretzels, and beer ensued. Then we had some beer.

RHCP and Nameless Bitch announced that they'd be in Germany (Stuttgart?) until sometime in 1997. Good luck, have a good time, and may shitty trails be yours. Let us hear about Stuttgart Hash. RHCP left us with an "isolated mooning", to try to get our Hash up to at least a PG Hash.

The On-On-On dwindled, and, unfortunately, ended on a sour note, with Dog-In-Drag's Blazer having been broken into and some cash (luckily, only cash) stolen. However, this enabled the SCH4's tradition of involving the police in as many Hashes as possible to stay alive. Think we'd all have rather avoided it, this time.

ON-ON and ON-OUT,
Anal Vice
On-Sec SCH4