Hares: VAGiant, Big Fat Fuck, How’d He Do Me, Don’key

Hashers: Ass To Math, Touch Myself In General, No Pussy 4 Him, Diaper Rash, Ride the Pony, Trim My Bush, After School Special, BOS, SOG, Cum on My Back-teria, Winter Merkin, Cakehole, Show ‘n Tell, Chicken Dick, Analytical, Suzie Chapsdicks, Toxic Crotch, Just Mallory, Just Shannon, Olive Dick, Rambush: First Blood, I’m Not a Cock, Just Tori, Altered Boy, Pubio, Poop Skywalker, Damaged Goods, Maggot, Just Talent :), Phantom of the Areola, another Just that I don’t t know the name of, Just Bethany

The hash began in true style with all three hares plowed by the time circle started. Perhaps it was the endless jello shots, perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was Altered Boy in heat, but the debauchery and drunkenness force was strong with this group. In fact, I don’t doubt that Don’key and/or BFF is pregnant now. Either way, there was no chance in hell that Pony could keep the attention of the rowdy crew at circle. It’s hard to do with the constant traffic interruptions and the incessant need to throw cans and flour at one another. So, the hares laid trail, some laid deuce, and the rest followed.

It was a steamy trot into Milford, with bugs and air thick enough to choke a Don’key. At FRBs and turtle checks COMB and Chicken Dick made sweat angels on the pavement. A Just took every opportunity to stretch her muscles before, during and after trail (she’s a real athlete, so it’s cool). Winter Merkin bitched about how stiff her legs were and bowed out early from trail with Just Tori, so there is little to write about what happened on the rest of that trail, but there were Down Down’s later for some hare snaring, for Trim just getting completely lost, and for blood on trail, so it seems like plenty enough.

By the time ceremonies began, the hashers were rabid for beer, and yours truly provided a heavy load of 90 cans of delicious nectar. Just Chris was baptized in beer and named How’d He Do Me. The Hash Shit was attempted to be passed back to BFF in honor of such a shitty hash, but No Pussy fell on his own flaccid sword and refused to give up the coveted wardrobe to someone who has had it before. In honor of such chivalry, No Pussy did a Safety Down Down made the MacGruber way: two sticks of arm’s length tied together with sweaty bandanas. By the time ceremonies were suspended and everyone started eating, the male hashers showed their junk to each other at least 15 times, at least four hashers bathed in water highly concentrated with horse shit pathogens, the once poison ivy-infested hashers compared scars and itchy stories, and Diaper’s chair was being saturated in neglected hamburger meat juice. Slowly people left for home, and others retreated to Show ‘n Tell’s abode to sing along to a  little classic rock and play the game “guess who’s in my mouth?”. Til next trail~ ON! ON!