Hash Trash #1081
EZ Lipps summed up the idiocy when she arrived and observed that only the most desperate or stupid people would show up. That woman is what you call prescient. Hash 1081, raining and 41F and long as f#ckall, was a pleasure for the senses. The Hare for todays adventure, Filmat11, and the Co Hore, the man with the Dirty Sexy Impala, Bobbin 4 Buttplugs, finally showed up before the mob began to run.
Various of the oh so hot BAH3 harriets showed up out of loyalty to Film, or sent representation, simply because she is a female. Women do that. Do not trust them. Maybe hottest of all, but certainly the most tremendously bitchiest of ever and ever, 3 trick pony, did set the style of the day, clad in body hugging garbage bags to ward off the rain or possibly the errant loads of excited hashers.
One visitor showed up that had passed the IQ test; i.e., dumb enough to be here. He is Stop Drop and Turd, a former Jarhead who can't stop himself from shitting on trail, here to join the BAH3, formerly hashing in Hawaii, Indonesia, Saudi, some other garden spots, who said this would be his first cold weather hash. had a t-shirt and shorts. What a Goof. Marine. Impervious. He's perfect for the BAH3.
After a demonstration of the various marks which made it obvious the Hares knew how hopeless it was that any marks still existed and that we'd never return before dark, the lunatics were off into the great unknowns of Greenbelt, a taseful admixture of trails, open woods and roadier stuff.
A self serve shot check greeted those dumb enough to run through the drainage tunnels under the BW Parkway. mmmmm! red stuff! After Cervix made everyone finish the gallon or so, Pony Boy or somebody bussed the trash out. Once again the Hares violated the number one rule of Hashing: Never underestimate the intelligence of the mob, by laying trail in a forest that also contained trails marked by white paint. After a mile of following Walk My Bitch running on trees with white blazes, Fossil or someone realized we were morons. Running around in circles like ants followed. After we'd run for 3 hours and 20 minutes, the precious beer check beckoned, manned by Her Red Hairedness, Film. B4B was drunk in the backseat. The rain came down. we swigged beer.
Off for the rest of the trail in the dimming light. More soaking shiggy and then to another self serve shot check at the top of some mountain. mmmmm! aqua stuff!! looks like scope but way better and more effective. Running around lost as hell in the dark. boy all those moss splotches on the trees sure do look alot like what flour would look like if there were any left from the rain.
Pavement is reached. We know for a 100% fact we are either on the road that is Perfect; or Perfectly F#cked. Ponyboy and Walk my Bitch are going to scout the road. Cervix gets in touch with his Fem side and asks the Ranger where in Hell we are; we shuffle off in the advised direction. We even see some marks. Ponyboy and WMB get lost.
The circle forms under the sketchy hand of some Guest RA. After B4B is awakened from his drunken stupor in the back of Film's car, the Hares are duly anointed. Our visitor was greeted. He shall be running with that brick before too long. FRB was uh BackSeatBox? I had thought DFL would be FeyLey because i sprinted ahead of her by at least 5 feet when she started complaining about her bum hip hurtin, but 15 minutes after i beat her ass, PonyBoy and WMB came in holding hands and skipping. So they shared DFL honors.
Peoples were violated in a callous manner. The Hares and the Ponys got it over and over. Fossils Dog who is still Just Something or Other, was violated for alcohol abuse and his owner stood in as stunt liver. Other things happened. Suddenly everyone left. On After at the 94th Aero Squadron and perhaps our Hash Scribe Film will have some details of that or other ruminations.