HARES: The Stranger, BFF, Don’key
HASHERS: Diaper Rash, Ride the Pony, AnalLytical, Ring Around the Russel, Pennsil Vein, Just Michael, After School Special, I am Not a Cock, Rambush: First Blood, Lube My Beads, The Decorated Asshole, Cakehole, No Pussy for You, Rubber Gloves, Sex and Ate, Six O’Cock, Chicken Dick, Ice Bitch, Just Helen, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuucked
“He’s going to Kansas City…. Kansas City, here he cums…”
So we “serenaded” the Stranger on Sunday afternoon in the Big D as he leaves us to join the “River Folk” of KC. This beautiful day quickly turned to shit (literally) however, as Stranger somehow managed to land his trail marking ball in a pile of human excrement, leaving many of us to wonder what exactly happened to a previously well marked trail. The trail itself was quite colorful with folk art, burned out houses, brick streets, and graffiti coated underpasses. Our first BN at the Heidelburg project featured a local who offered a guided tour in exchange for some beer. BFF managed to sweet talk a few Eastern Market residents into guarding the first FRB for the Hashers, while the good people of Gratiot Ave. were more than helpful in directing certain Turkeys in keeping up with the pack. Walkers also got some “assistance” from residents of an apartment building cheering us on. Our second BN (on the DeQuindre Cut) featured a visit from a Rent-A-Cop, who reminded us we were on private property with no alcohol allowed. Officer Donut also offered that the red poles along the cut had security cameras, for future reference (though Trim My Bush tried to get said officer to prove we HAD in fact been drinking). No Pussy continued to live up to the name, attempting to chat up a passing jogger. The last stretch of trail was promptly ignored by the vast majority of the Hash, who decided that 6 miles was plenty long for one afternoon.
Just Michael’s announcement of his recent unemployment, rendering him quite possibly the only Mexican in the US without a job, FIIIIIIIIIIIINALLY resulted in a name: Trim My Bush. He is currently available for all your landscaping needs.
Just Helen was forced to leave ceremonies early for a “Fly By Booty Call” at the airport, though not without some assistance from the Hash in extracting her truck from its parking space.
The “Hash Shit” was ceremoniously (and quite happily) passed on to a new owner by Chicken Dick. In honor of his never-ending tales and his creative terminology when talking about his conquests, No Pussy for Him is now the proud? owner of the Hash Shit vest.