Hares: Vagiant, After School Special, Creeping Charlie, Not Cakehole
Beer Bitch: Trim My Bush
Hashers: Semper Pi, Touch Myself In General, Hep-C, Whip It Out, Ride the Pony, Diaper Rash, Slurpee Seconds, Scottish Fingercuffs, Six O’Cock, The Rapist, Sex and Ate, Coxcycle, Creeping Charlie, Cum On My Back-teria, Winter Merkin, Altered Boy, Tranny Head, PennsilVein, Sharin’ Fluids, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuuucked, Ben Wa Ball-less, Jaws, Rambush: First Blood, I Am Not a Cock, Chicken Dick, Ben Gay, Room Service, Pubio, Phantom of the Areola, Mother Inferior, Maggot, Just Scott, other NFN’s, aaaand other hashers that I forgot again.
Swamp-Ass Hash, you say? The only thing that received some swamp-ass that day was Merkin’s insole and a few wankers who decided to wade through the lake instead of walking around to the last beer check. However, it was a pleasant Saturday afternoon hash, with copious beers and sunlight to fuel our start. We were aroused to welcome a couple of hashers from Tampa: Ben Gay and Room Service. The hares boldly started off with a five minute head start in multiple directions, leaving the hashers chomping at the bit for some hare snaring. Quickly comes a back-check, over one of the only swampish spots on trail, and Merkin pulled a Pubio and lost her footing in the muck. Chicken Dick saved the day though, and through his chivalry, Winter Merkin could run another day in her fucked up shoes.
The trail was quite urban, and the first beer check was quite appreciated, especially with the guidance of the Saline police force pointing the way for the hashers (they were jealous). The second beer check had a lovely view of the mosquito nesting in the river and the many little children playing in the park; too bad No Pussy wasn’t there to enjoy the latter’s scenery (I hear 12 is the new 16 now).
The on-after was held at the *Ho-Ho-Ho* VA-Giant! farm, fully equipped with dilapidated barns, tetanus, and other burned out buildings and securely locked up secrets to creep out the average and turn on Altered Boy. A few wankers tempted the bee boxes in the fields (just because something has a hole doesn’t mean you stick things in it) , while others just sucked on jello shots and sangria-laced fruit chunks….mmm…….During circle the safety 3rd down-down was a favorite for the amount of chivalry displayed on trail. The hares drank often, as did the many analversaries celebrated. New kilts were sacrilegiously blessed for Vagiant, COMB, Merkin, Rambush: First Blood and I’m Not A Cock, and there was much rejoicing. I hope that sangria was consumed to the fullest.