Hash Trash #1094 – Mud, Chlorine, and Curry Dreams

Hares – Fossil and Grand Mattress

 

Blessed with the innate ability to follow directions implicitly, several hashers mulled about, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the rest of the pack.  Little did we know, the pack was impatiently awaiting our arrival at a much smaller parking lot up the road.  We piled back into our cars and moved to the official start, already filled to the brim with cars.  Clowns at the circus couldn’t have as much fun parking as we did today!

 

Fossil prepped us with some chalk talk and then the pack, with two virgins in tow, was off to the races.  Or at least off to the mud bogs.  The hares must have come out with a garden hose that morning because I don’t remember that much rain!  We trudged through the ankle deep, shoe sucking madness only to find a back-check 15 eagerly awaiting our arrival. 

 

The shot check was a picturesque location perched high atop the wetlands.  Our arrival was conveniently timed with the introduction of a cold front, replete with 40 mph gusts of frigid air.  Fortunately there was plenty of cinnamon schnapps to warm us, even if only temporarily.

 

Eager to move on to the curry dinner and hot tub, the pack blazed through the remainder of the trail.  Back at the start, would-be engineers began the arduous task of unblocking the cars we had so carefully puzzled into place.  The caravan made its way to Casa de Fossil and the parking games began again.  Bimbo hashers At Your Cervix, Velvet Vulva, and Just Nicole graciously arrived early to heat up the food and make sure the hot tub was in suitable working order.  The curry disappeared quickly and we managed to pull the die hard tubbers indoors for circle.  Just Nicole took a beating in the violation department; four violations and the girl never stepped foot on trail.  We sure know how to treat our visitors!  Mi-Rack-I and Pro Boner called each other out repeatedly for racist behavior.  Turns out they both ended up with medals in the previous day’s Black History Month 5K.  Violations continued but thoughts of the waiting hot tub overtook my mind and I could no longer focus on details.

 

Circle wrapped up and the pack began dispersing.  Official party time had begun.  Varying degrees of nakedness were witnessed all around.  Clearly, the less clothing you wear, the more wankers you can fit in a tub!  “Is that your leg?”… “Whose foot is that?”… “Man, your hands are cold!”…”I feel itchy.”  Luckily, the bubbles provided a shield to events transpiring just below the surface.  The beer, offensive jokes, home remedies for hiccups, and laughter flowed freely into the evening.  Many thanks to Fossil for opening his home to this tawdry bunch!!

 

OnOn,

Film@11