FRB’S A DYING BREED 

Pattaya hash is getting old. In the early days there were many FRB’s, sadly they are a dying breed. Machines are replacing leg power, look at all the cars and pick ups surrounding the A site, these are only out numbered by the chairs. Apparently we all parked at the wrong “A” site or so we were told later, presumably the real “A” site was flat with no hidden ankle breaking holes, no dead bodies though at least at this point. I was late, I am always late, however it turns out I am not as late as the GM Flying Frog. We wait, some reading hash sheets, others chatting. I was stood near the beer truck and the back table was in place earlier than normal. Dr Pinky was stood next to it. From the direction of the bus Sun Flower wandered over towards Dr Pinky and she was carrying a very limp duck, (I have not substituted a U for an I) carefully she laid it on the beer truck table, Dr Pinky, ever ready to assist, pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the birds chest. After a moment or two Dr Pinky stared at Sun Flower then looked up into her eyes and said, “I am so sorry your pet has passed away” Sun Flower appearing distressed wailed “are you sure?” (No reference to the hasher). “Yes I am sure. The duck is dead” he replied. “But how can you be sure?” she protested. “I mean you have not done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something.” Dr Pinky rolled his eyes, turned around and went behind the beer truck. Moments later he returned with a black Labrador retriever. As the duck's owner Sun Flower looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the beer truck table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at Dr Pinky with sad eyes and shook his head. Dr Pinky patted the dog, gave it a biscuit and took it back around the front of the beer truck and returned a few moments later with a beautiful cat. The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed the bird from its beak to its tail and back again. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly, jumped down and strolled off towards the jeep for a tuna sandwich. Dr Pinky moves his focus and  looked  Sun Flower  in the eyes and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, “this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck." Dr Pinky then picked up his bag and reached inside and pulled out a bar bill book and pen, he then scribbled quickly on it and  tore out the top  page, which he handed to Sun Flower. Sun Flower still in shock, took the bill."THB 15,000!" she cried. "THB 15,000 just to tell me my duck is dead?!! You crazy, you crazy Dr Pinky she bemoaned” Dr Pinky shrugged. "I'm sorry. If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would have been THB 1,500. But with the Lab Report and the CAT scan, it all adds up."
In the mean time a group of perhaps 8-10 persons VV, Peler, Fini, Smiling Brown Spider to mention a few had congregated around Ringworm, each was clutching a news letter, as they quizzed him about the meaning of all those long words in last weeks write up.
Finally the GM arrived, “form a circle” he shouted from his truck, and obediently we did. As we were getting the information about next weeks Betty Boop run  three gun shots rang out from only a few hundred meters away , probably Marathon Man Odd Job creating some of his own breaking news again. New shoes were dealt with and we were off following the rail track, yep you got it, in the direction of the gun shots. The first part of the run twisted us around with some old paper, false trails and loops but it kept the pack together. I was walking along with General Kidney Wiper  “****ing American Embassy” he grumbled “US$600 just for a visa and you have to be finger printed”, he continued that he may be away for a few weeks as he is going to open a religious book shop in Guantanamo Bay. Through a gully and another good false trail, across the road and a check at the end of an open field . A large group was now forming, most were being distracted by yet another pack of yapping dogs, On On was called and we started to run, we were not the only things that had started to run, from the corner of the field a huge FRB ( Fast Running Buffalo) came charging towards the pack  we scattered in every direction, however the FRB seemed to have taken a liking to Homo Simpson, which is understandable as he is half Norwegian, 1.5 tons of muscle and horns shot past Homo and seemed to miss by inches, it crashed off into the undergrowth, meanwhile as  Homo Simpson  was emptying his shorts out, thankfully we were on a false trail so could exit the area in the opposite direction, if ever there was a visual warning to walk near cattle and FRB’s that was it. Over some dried out rice paddies and we were back in sight of the rail track and the final Blue check. Arse-Holeo claimed that this was easy  the A site is just down there to the right, we picked up the paper 200 meters to the left and continued in that direction, we weave through shrubs and there was the ON IN the other type of FRB’s back in about 55 min so plenty of exercise for those who wanted it. I walked in past Uncle Pervy’s ever growing gang Drippy, Dr Pinky, ET, Sir Airhead  guzzling his home brew , I wandered  over near the rail tracks . Miserable C**t  was whining  about the A site Apples Turnover responded “ well you are the trail master you should check each A site for suitability”, at this point Terminal 4 Skin turned up to comment “ would you two like some cheese to go with that whine”.
The lights go on and its time to form a circle, instantly we are told that the hash shit will be loosing his trophy tonight, but to whom? Sun Flower is hash flash tonight we are informed, which for a moment sounded exciting then she appeared with the camera around her neck, this weeks raffle was conducted by Seaman Swallow the normal prizes and free pass to the bucket. The Bad RA Sir Airhead took over, Hares Mr Dog and Arse Hopper placed themselves on the ice, clearly the RA figured that they should receive hash shit for the gunshots, A site, bad smell, packs of dogs, FRB’s so he asked King Yao Yao “good run” he said, so that was that and they got away with it. Which is more than can be said for Wank-King who had dropped a tiny piece of trash in the circle and correctly received the Hash Trash award. Arse-Holeo was brought in with the new squeeze who really only requires the cosmetic flat head to be perfect and was named Chipmunk.  The Chicken Person then serenaded us with a song about Sir Airhead which was claimed to have been written by Karamba as it made no sense at all . As it had already been decided that the hash shit was going out tonight the GM brings in poor harmless Arse Hopper apparently he went to the On On bar last week and committed the heinous crime of eating before he had bought a drink, this now leaves him mentally scarred for life after receiving the Hash Shit award. The judge in this case assures us that he is a fine upstanding community member and the punishment was in no way influenced by the fact that he too owns a Hash Bar. Visitors, returnees too many to mention, and leavers with the biggest cheer of the night that Arse-Holeo was leaving. The French and anybody else who would admit to speaking French were rightfully iced for totally destroying the EU. As Europeans we expected this as is just normal French pouting because a German took over at Airbus Industries. The Germans were also iced, it seems they are blessed, if they are now unemployed they can get a 20% discount on services from prostitutes, so long as they have an unemployment card, this however is of no use in Pattaya, as I quote after a recent visit  from Khun Pravena Honsrattakul  previous Social Welfare Minister “ there are no prostitutes in Pattaya”  For this reason entirely after the Hash Hymn sung by the Aussies and the fact that I did not have time to go to Ban Chang where apparently there are, I ****ed off home.

On On
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