#1203

Trail #1203
Hare:  Cuddle Puncher
Hounds:  Tina, Poopy, Cumbag, NBA, PeePee, Power Bottom, Hummer, Anything Goes, Amanta, Puff, and Tequila at the on-in (lazy wanker)

It's tough to lay a shittier trail than the one that Tina and NBA laid last week, but Cuddle Puncher actually succeeded.  In fact, the bar has been set to about the lowest level it's ever been.  Where to begin, where to begin.......

Let's just be clear at the offset -- the temperature was a hideous 100 degrees here in Doodah, so we thought maybe the trail would be a reasonable length.  But no such luck.  Trail ended up being about 3 to 4 miles with all the false trails and checks.   Young Grasshopper started out strong with just the right amount of splits and intersections....until we got to his diabolical Check Back 4.  It went downhill from there, with his marks becoming fewer and more hidden than ever.  Oh, but then, he picked it back up, and the pack thought, well, maybe he's redeeming himself.  But then we get to the beer near a good 2 miles away.  The hare had stashed the beer in a drainage pipe under I-135 by the ditch.  But evidently, Cuddle decided we hadn't suffered enough so he laid a true trail arrow straight across the nasty-ass green ditch water (had he given us any clue that we needed a shag bag beforehand?  Nooooo).  Following the white flour marks, we came upon a true trail flour arrow heading up the ditch to street level.  There was one plop of flour after that, but then....nothing.  We scoured the shiggy (weeds and shit) for about 20 minutes.  Most of the pack gave up and headed back to the on-in, having found the true trail arrow leading away from the beer near.  What we had missed down on the rocks by the algae stream was the tiny BN chalk marks on three veerrrrrrrry small rocks, nay, pebbles, that the hare thought were sufficient for these half-minds to see.  It was only after much back-tracking that Tina actually discovered the stash in the drainage ditch ACROSS the slimy water that the hare forced us to cross.  The only wankers left looking for the beer were Tina, Cumbag, and NBA.  The rest had given up and had decided that there was beer waiting for them at the on-in.  As the three REAL hashers (that is, those willing to do whatever it took to find the beer near) slurped down the Pabst Blue Ribbon, along came Amanta, who had had to follow the crappy trail by herself, and wasn't just a real happy hasher at this point. Her mood improved tremendously once she got a PBR.  To look on the bright side, these four hashers had a twelve-pack to split before heading back.  The mood was much better on the way back.

Back to the on-in which was at Joe's.  We sat on the patio, drank beer, ate tacos, had a circle conducted by the hare.  The circle was every bit as lame as the trail, but there was much rejoicing.  On on!

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I'm tired of all these muthafuckin snakes on this muthafuckin trail!!!