It was a dark and stormy night - even if the storm was from the wealth of emotions floating around from the pack of hounds who, incidentally, neglected to howl at the glorious moon.  Sigh.
 
Armed with the knowledge that most of the free world would be travelling to Hash de Tucson, I held firm to the belief that - including me - I would have four people at this run.  The other three people were the virgins I was bringing with me from work.  Just Sandy, Just Shawna, and Just Brian.
 
Imagine my consternation when the first to arrive was Cherry Picker, who promptly informed me that she had just spent over an hour to get to there!  She immediately received the shitty give-a-way of an orange plastic tumbler with the handwritten words "Phoenix Full Moon Hash Halloween Run 2007."  Of course, I did hand her the purple sharpie so she could personalize her new mug.
 
Shortly following this was the arrival of Just Dave dressed as hmm - Father Time?  Poor thing didn't have a straw, so his clever mask didn't stay on very long.  After all - what's more important?  Looking really cool in your Halloween costume or being able to consume the amber nectar?  Duh...
 
Then, amidst the oohs and ahhs of exclamation over beer that one needed a bottle opener to get to, came the dark rumblings of a throaty engine.  Downward Dog had arrived with her virgin bitch - just Carl.  Dog was dressed as an Arnold wannabe - sans machine guns.  Just Carl was dressed as - well - a runner.
 
About this time, I received a call from Just Shawna.  She and Just Sandy were still at the office - doing the work that I had left them with!  They were still trying to make it, but still had to get a few more things done.  I told her to call me as she was leaving the office, and I would let her know where we were.
 
Next to arrive was Rabid Transit - having cum directly from the office, still dressed in his work clothes, and advising us that he was feeling poorly, so he wasn't going to run or stay.  I still gave him the shitty give-a-way.  I figure I can afford the fifteen cents.
 
Thankfully, the last to arrive were Little Pink and her man toy, Wrong Number.  I say thankfully because, as previously mentioned, I thought to have 4 people, and had only procured one case of beer.  Which, at this point, before the run had even started, was almost half gone!  The lovely couple was dressed as a sheik and harem girl.  I'll let you guess who was dressed as what.
 
Trail went like this.  I did chalk talk which consisted of me drawing marks that most people were unfamiliar with, then promptly crossing them out and telling them there would only be three on trail.  A dot, a check, and two BNs.  One mark was on.  Things went down hill from there.
 
Although I have to say, I did live up to the promises of this run.  Trail sucked!  I got lost, thought I was in the park I had stashed the beer in for the first beer check, laid the BN, realized I was in the totally wrong place, and ended up laying about another half mile of trail until I found the correct place.  Maybe they wouldn't see the BN, I thought.  Denied!
 
As I was waiting in the correct park, I received another call from Just Shawna.  They were leaving the office.  Amidst several idiotic conversations, during which the pack showed up complaining profusely about my Halloween Trick, I finally got directions to my three virgins, and they drove to meet us at this beer check.
 
Seeing as how Just Sandy had just left the office, she was dressed in work clothes.  Appropriately enough, however, they were black and burnt orange.
 
Just Brian was a boxer, sporting a black eye.  One bad thing about his costume - he couldn't hold beer with the gloves on.  Then there was Just Shawna.  Complete with crown and royal septer, she pranced across the park as (I believe) the dancing pink elephant from Dumbo?  I know I'm gonna get it for f-ing this up.
 
Introductions were made all around.  Due to the storm of emotions emenating from the hounds over the fact that they had spent 20 minutes looking for beer at the first BN, along with Cherry Picker's constant rantings of, "Is there food near here?"  I suggested that we all meander together to the next beer check.  Suprisingly enough, the pack decided that my three virgins deserved trail.  So, I took off, attempting to find the straightest route to the next BN.
 
Twenty minutes later, my tits started ringing.  It was Just Sandy.  She, having worked with me for the last year, and knowing full well that communication devices were not allowed on trail, at first had refused to make the call.  But that angry bunch of hounds beat her soundly until she gave in.  It appears they were lost - all together, but lost.  When I found out where they were, I advised that they weren't lost.  They were on trail, and they were only about three blocks from where I was sitting in the dark, watching some local kid sitting on a park bench taking picture after picture of - well, I think his johnson.
 
The group drifted toward me until, for some inexplicable reason, half of them stopped under a street lamp, and stayed there for a few minutes.  I thought they were having group sex and providing the local kid with a nice show.  Alas, it was a black widow.  OOOH!  There's something you don't see every day.  They actually made me drink in circle because of this momentous event.
 
When they finally made it over to the beer, Downward Dog and Just Carl, perhaps having caught the scent of adolescent sexual drive from the local kid, decided it was an appropriate place to dry hump.  Go figure.  We just told 'em to get a room.
 
Since it was now about 9:30, and the pack was getting even more ornery, I pointed in the direction of the start, and told 'em we had about .75 mile walk and we'd be done.  Collective sigh of relief.
 
Circle went like this:
- Little Pink introduced the hare - make me drink
- introduced all the virgins again* - made 'em drink
- introduced the NFPs (New Foot Prints) - made 'em drink
- gave away prize for best costume to Just Shawna - made her drink, and gave her the shitty prize
- down down to Just Shawna for ridiculous phone calls
- down down to me for the black widow
- down down to Wrong Number for being a constant, rude, interrupter
- down down to Just Dave for something I don't recall - however!  He has provided us with an incredibly lovely new hash song.  Write it down, Just Dave!  Write it down!
- other down downs for various imagined infractions
 
Then Cherry Picker decided that, due to the skipping, the giggling, the kanoodling, and the snorting done by Downward Dog, she needed a new name.  Something like Skipping Merrily Mary...  Doused with a limited amount of flour and no beer, and due to the limited memories of hashers in general, I think Downward Dog may just keep her original name.
 
Swing Low ensued, almost causing Just Shawna and Just Brian to fall over in their immense laughter.
 
On After was at the First Round Draft, where we sat up close and personal to the karaoke host, and where Just Dave, Just Shawna, Just Brian and I regaled the audience with our drunken renditions of Billy Joel and David Allen Coe.
 
On - to the next Full Moon - On
- Bitch 'N Hoe (aka: Magenta)
 
*  About this virgin thing.  Whenever a virgin was introduced in Seattle, stating their name as Carol or Robert, my friend Cosmo would yell out, "Hi Jane"  or "Hi John."  I liked the idea, so started doing that myself.  Until last night.  I don't even remember who came up with it, but it was so hilarious, it caught on like wild fire.  Instead of "Hi Jane" and "Hi John," we began calling our virgins "Hi Jean" and "Hi Gene!"  Come on.  Say it out loud...
 
Next Full Moon -  Saturday November 24th Full Beaver Moon

We need a hare, and I KNOW somebody out there can do something special with a full beaver.  Email me.

- Bitch 'N Hoe