Tour de Brooklyn #6
July 19, 2010
Start: McDonald Avenue & Kings Highway
On-In: Cha-Cha’s, Coney Island
Scribe: Speedo Gonzalez
That night, at Kings Highway, we met to hash;
for stop six of the Brooklyn Tour it was.
Our hare was the lovely Sloppy Headlights,
who fretted at the start, lest we should all
pass out from dehydration on her trail.
‘Neath threatening skies, to Coney Isle we ran,
and crossing the boardwalk, at last arrived
at Cha-Cha’s, where, as per the London rules,
we bought our own damn beers, and ate Nathan’s
Hot Dogs, since they were right next door to us.
And then the time arrived to punish those
who through the own innate stupidity
had earned themselves Down-Downs to drink that night.
Which were, by then, quite warm, and so were not
at all a balm against the summer heat.
So first our hare Headlights drank hers, and then
our guests, the visitors from the West Coast,
Cyndi Bear and Twiddle Me drank their beers.
And Josh, who brought sandwich fixings, and once
again for acting as a bird’s toilet.
And everyone who swam: Oral Values,
Donna KeBab, and Trips’n’Balls, and Josh,
I Am Cumstain also, and Type A-Hole,
and Cheeky Bastard; all these fuckers drank;
we hope enough to kill to ocean germs.
I Am Cumstain was not yet free to go,
for he had tried to find a shorter way
and failed miserably; and this after
carbo-loading with pizza at the start.
And so two more drinks for this tall bastard.
But still I Am Cumstain was not finished,
as he was leaving fair Brooklyn behind.
So one more beer before he goes away;
he will be sorely missed, though this writer
has no idea by whom specifically.
Then one more down-down was given to Splat
for arriving On-In dead fucking last.
And then one more for Barnacle to drink,
as he had no ability to stop
himself from being a gloating racist.
Though we all thought the circle was complete,
Josh felt he had to tell us all about
something not hashing-related at all.
So one more down-down was then drunk by him,
and let’s hope that will end all future spam.
So then with all business complete that night,
we drank from our buckets of beer until,
with Barnacle starting fights with locals,
and being miles away from anywhere,
we got away while the getting was good.
And thus your humble narrator signs off,
never to try pentameter again.
I should have gone to sleep so long ago.
Speedo Gonzalez says, "On out, you all."
Farewell, my friends, until we hash again.