#1202 White Trash Riverfest Hash

Hares: NBA and Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds: PBR, Boathouse Pussy, Cumbag Shitpants, Puff (for a little while), Beastie, Boobs in my Mouth, PQuad, Dipshit, Cuddle Puncher, Hummer Gay'mes, Used to be Good, nnAmy, nnErica, nnJustin, nnDJ, (woops forgot{Poopy the Fruit Dick Slayer})

The 1202nd running of the Tornado Alley Hash House Harriers exemplified the concept of 'shitty trail'.  To kick things off, we gathered at the makeshift model runway behind the Arena Bar & Grill to show off the best in the season's hash fashion.  The hares took off and in a vain attempt to slow down the hounds, ratted us out to Arena management for sipping our oat sodas in a commercial parking lot.  We grumbled, cursed the jealous and unfashionable bar manager and moved our vehicles the legally mandated twelve feet away.
 
After losing ourselves several times due to lack of markings, we determined that Tina didn't realize he was supposed to use chalk to mark his trail, so we had to follow the stench of his authentic dumpster wig.  His stench led us away from the purported first Beer Near and across the river where we blended in so thoroughly with the Riverfesters that Beastiality Before Boys feared half the kennel had been lured away by Jagermeistered and beGodsmacked revelers as children to the Pied Piper.  Fortunately, our strength of will held and we made it back across the river to the purported second Beer Near where NBA was spotted and nearly depantsed.  She only got away because the thirsty Hounds saw the huge BN marking and lost all interest in her pants.  Alas, it was not meant to be, for NBA had already consumed all of the beer and only just got away after downing the last one.
 
A somewhat nonplussed crowd gathered at the dry Beer Near for a rest.  We then made our slow, thirsty crawl through the Wichita desert in search of On In.  At a trainyard, several hashers were so thirsty they saw mirages of On In scrawled on box cars, but persistence paid off and we finally circled up at a garishly decorated way station.
 
Songs were sung and beer was consumed.  Boathouse Pussy felt it was a good idea to only show up for circle and our very gracious substitute RA, Cuddle Puncher, obliged her participatory spirit with a deadbug, a flying deadbug and a towering deadbug.  We had many virgins among us, all of whom got to cum and drink after one of the shittiest trails imaginable, the lucky bitches and bastards.
 
All in all, it was a pretty tame hash. ONON

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