It was a hot and humid night… a night so hot the chalk would melt out of your hands. A night so humid the flour baked itself into tasty asphalt-flavored morsels. At first it would appear this was going to be a quiet hash night… but thanks to a bunch of Late Cumers, we had quite a crowd! Bitch n Ho was bitchin’ proud, as the Wild Hare was her fabulous selection. Just Pam was put to work immediately to the task of both drawing and presenting chalk talk…excellent job! Straws were drawn and lucky Rod drew the “winning” straw. Rod made the questionable choice (JK) of Ima Luuuger as cohare and they were off. Allofher Fist sang a severely bastardized version of Today is Monday, proving that she doesn’t knows the order of the days of the week, and wants to wank everyday. Luckily that pre-lubed Heiferfearzen was there to sing about Thursday with expert pizzazz.

 The pack was off… following a trail which seemed nothing more than a series of circles, however, expertly laid. It took a couple of miles to catch up to the sneaky buggers, but Deet Throat was hot on their trail. The hares had just slipped through a fence and scampered across an athletic field when Deet and Allofher sprinted in hot pursuit. Realizing that catching the hares would make them hares, Allofher slowed, then Deet slowed, until they, along with B-flat popped a squat in the grass, refusing to pursue the hares. Lucky for us Bush Straddler and Can’t Cum on Saturdays were woman enough to run down the hares who were sitting 40 feet away.

Then, in the distance, appeared the walkers. It seemed they might be going the wrong direction, but as it turns out they were just distracted by an obnoxious motorist yelling something about an ugly stick having been here. While Dumbo, Little Pink and Wrong Number wondered what got into that ass-munch, the truck pulled over and out jumped Beat by a Girl. On his way to the bar, he decided to pull over and hash in his work clothes.

The next part of the trail involved a lot of losing trail in the dark. In fact, more losing trail than finding trail. Considering the entire pack was equipped with no more that two flashlights and the sun had set long before, we should have been more lost that we were. Both Deet and Beat were saving graces to the pack, as only they could locate the scraps of flour which supposedly was a trail. By the time the pack reached Rural, most folks were tired and headed for the bar. Just Liz was savvy enough to note the pink chalk marks the hares left, which so slyly matched the concrete in the dark. On In at the Wild Hare consisted of a lot of beer, quesadillas and sweaty hashers….

ON-ON

Allofher Fist
Head(!)Mistress