The Idyll of a Hasher
Cigarettes and whusky and wild wild women
Sunday low noon I am at the Hash’s joint up in Banjara country watching the Nissans pulling up and thinking what a nice thing it is, indeed, to be able to work in ICRISAT without having to worry about losing your potatoes. Many of the high shots from Banjara and Jubilee and other countries are up at the ranch looking like withered maize due to the fact that they parttake in Kiwimagic’s orgy the night before to celebrate some doll giving birth to Pearl some ‘x’ years ago. In fact, there is so little action that a guy looking cheerful, such as me, will be considered impolite. The reason, the citizens take enough trouble to be at the ranch in the hot sun is because these citizens are all deeply interested in consuming a beverage with magical refreshing qualities, and in fact, they are not interested in much of anything else in the world. I also see Honeycup, the Hash Cash, collering money-money-money everyime a charlie walks in and with a flicker of [her] eyelashes relieving them of their hard earned potatoes.
Now, a judy by the name of Ursula gets under the tree and starts instructing the citizens about the trail and there is now a great excitement and many oohs and aahs in male voices on all sides as they discover that Ursula speaks English while they think it is German. By the by I spy Sheriff Scandahooligan and her deputy Emma the kid on horseback trying to round up the herd and [to] set them on the trail. I will not attempt to describe the hash in detail as you can call up any insane asylum and get any patient on the phone and learn about it in no time, as all lunatics are bound to be hashers and in fact the chances are that it is hashing that makes them lunatics. Furthermore, I will not bother you with my philosophy of this madness, but I will say that the race [is] practically supernatural in many respects and the citizens are all upset about it, and they haul the cowgirls up to the stand and ask them many questions, and not being alltogether satisfied with the answers, they ask these questions over several times. But all the hares will do is to have down downs, while Ursula who is pretty fresh duck is nickanmed ‘Rosbolle’ on the account of it being German for horseshit!
Now, Digit the GM is friendly with everyone everywhere, and is known to one and all as a right guy, and one who always gives everybody a square rattle. Furthermore, it is a pleasure for the GM to [straighten] guys from other towns and as a consequence starts hauling up guys and dolls who [are] fresh ducks and bearded charlies from Yemen for Down downs. And, who do I see but Diamond Lil a nicely nicely judy charging a skinny guy who goes by the right name of Hash² with indecent exposure and GM and Milkman are no less pleased with the prospect, as it means straightening out another charlie.
Then, just as I think I am safe, I find I am looking a guy by the name of Croc in the face and I tell from Croc’s expression that he is standing there watching me for some time, so there is no use telling him that I am washed out and am not wanting to write the Trash. Now this prospect by no means thrills me, but I am unable to think a good out at once. By this time, I am also commencing to feel displeasure with the beautifuls on account of their attitude towards X-Rated, who is by all means a right on guy. The reason X-Rated suffers is because the judies do not care two snaps of their fingers about him and sometimes not even one snap in spite of him being bitten by Red ants, in fact, they are not interested in much of anything else in the world.
Next Weeks Run will begin at 4:30 p.m. from the “The Tombs”. The hares have the audacity to ask that we arrive ON TIME, which means at least 15 minutes before 4:30. Hares are Simple, E.T., and Horse-Trader.