Hash Trash #1099 – Flour Worship

They worship flour.
 
Which is why I suppose Scooby Do Me and her Hare-Brained Co-Hare Bobbin For ButtPlugs couldnt bear to part with any of it during BAH 1099(?).
A crowd of violent thugs gathered in the suddenly sunny sunday near the usual herd of dumpsters in a sleazy strip mall around Scooby’s place, which is for rent if you know anybody.  This mob included a wide variety of wankers, your stalwart BAH3ers like the Ponies, Cervix, Mini Brew, multi-kennel hasher cross-dressers such as Fey ley, EZ Lipps, Suds, that tub of lard All the Way In from faraway virginia, and plenty of wankers apparently too stupid not to return after last week, which is saying something. Oh but not just named Oral Constipation, who was smart enough to stay away. Maybe he’s offended by his name so we should rename him before he comes back.
 
Unbelievably, nearly everybody wore something Orange under dictat from the Hares.  Pro Boner, the bling visionary whose fashion sense is as advanced as his raptastic odes, sported handsomely spray painted Orange shoes. To go with his spray painted Green shoes I guess. Because the wanker actually has two pairs of spray painted shoes now.
Those that didn’t have the correct color ensemble were afforded an opportunity by Way Hot Hash Hab Velvet who just happened to have International Notice Me Orange shirts emblazoned with the one-eyed god of the BAH3, no not my trouser snake, Natty Bo Man. Anyway, who would have thought Hashers were so rule abiding? Well its cuz we were going to be running around in the woods obviously, with hunters. Or not.
Electric Muff thought kindly enough to stop on by and RA before getting out of dodge on an airplane. Because one of our other long time no seer RAs seems to be pulled away by the mysterious force of nature that starts with P. or maybe L. We piled our dry bags and vessels into B4B’s Chick Magnet Impala because this trail would be “A to A prime,” and hoped for the best. Off we went into the wild  blue burbs on a dangerous trail of asphalt and curbs, looking like an orange shirted mob escaping from their prison bus. Or a  group of completely clueless tourists that need to be clearly identified to the local population.
OK so we were prepared to be plunged into deep shiggy filled with hunters and deer. Unfortunately since there were virtually no marks anywhere even on the pavement, it would have been a tough go. So it was probably best we stayed on dry ground and pavement. At least cabs come by if we never find the trail. Within minutes, this route had earned its detractors. Film at 11 has evolved into Ultra Hasher, where she seeks  to cut out the middleman, i.e., the trail, and get right to the drinking, and about that fact she began to moan. We began to move in a wide front hoping someone, anyone, would find a mark, any mark. Here marky marky marky….
On to my editorial:
When Thou Seest the Flour, Shouteth out the On On.  It lets the others know who is actually on the trail and who is just following/looking. At Checks where people get spread out without finding the trail, yell Checking, Checking One, Checking Two, and then On On.  On one soundeth like on on.
When you’re out of marks, let people know. yell Looking; or Searching; or Lost; or Last Mark. Make it apparent, unless you want to trickf#ck everybody into becoming lost as well, which is of course, a reasonable hashing thing to do. 
At some point we did head into the woods, and some men that seemed like hunters without guns, maybe just scraggly guys having a quick Bro-Mance over a log in the woods, complimented us on our Orangy-ness. We also successfully located our shot check nectar hidden in a stand of immensely admirable sticker trees. Like, crown of  thorns quality. Fortunately for us ATWI seems to have some kind of special vision that allows him to see where flour used to be. I think that was ATWI’s secret anyway.  Because without him we’d all still be standing near some check or another. At this point i will credit Scooby with being a scurrilous wanker and tricking us all into a very long YBF. Biotch. Finally the mob tired of being lost and hoping ATWI would find the trail. Plus we were getting thristy and had been out for at least 20-30 minutes. So MyRacki freedom proclaims she knows where A prime is and inspires an Uprising of the Clueless, leading us down to some park entrance then admiting she has absolutley zero idea where she is, or anything else is, for that matter, including A prime. Thus we follow Mini Brew in the Sensible, logical direction only to meet ATWI coming OUR way; thence back to the park. Her most Todally Highest and Exalted Bitch of all Known Space, 3 Trick, utilizes select technology to point us in the right direction and off we go again. 500 yards and we see the On In, and Myracki announces that she knew exactly where it was, she just thought she was somewhere else.
Scooby has a variety of tempting orange treats, a clever set up, and allows us into her home. Idiot. What were you thinking?! Somebody steals my shiggy stick in 5 minutes flat after setting it down. See I noticed. Now give it back.  Scooby provides real drinking vessels for Down Down, not just reused plastic cups, no, reused fancy plastic stemware. The Mob calls for vengeance. Scooby and Bobbin are hauled across the coals and ProBoner lets drop the latest and cleverest Rap Bomb on they unsuspecting asses. I would print it here but I couldnt even remember the one I made up so please post it somewhere, Boner. A bunch of chuckleheads are brought up on some charge or another and Pony Boy gets a Safety Third vio.  Then Someone, some…. ignorant … serf… some…. peon, attempts to violate Miss Total Bitch New Jersey for technology and she divas him till his dick turned tiny and he slinked under the table. Another opportunity to toast the hares and your beer bitch lets go with possibly the lamest and most convoluted rambling rap he has ever attempted, and this is after spending days memorzing it, so that was pretty sad. But alas. The road to no self respect is paved with humiliations such as that.
It would have gone like this:
Scooby and Bobbin shoulda been flourin up that trail
instead of scoutin things to buttplug Bobbins tail.
Scooby finds a phallus shaped branch near a tree
gets Bobbin buns up kneeling grunting come on Scooby Do Me, Do me. 
 
Before departing for the On After, several wankers decided to go dumpster diving as it was noticed that there were lots of freshly tossed flowers in them and one could probably get Sensitivity Points if one brought some home to ones Significant Others. The On After included legendary Laurel debauchery followed by a side trip to a Baltimore strip club where the aforementioned dumpster flowers were offered to Strippers in hopes for a lapdance. Suddenly everyone left.
 
On On
AnyCock’llDoMe