Hares: Cumbag Shitpants and Gooey Spinjob
Hounds: Anything Goes, A.S.S., Boathouse Pussy, Cuddle Puncher, Dipstick, Hummer Gay'mes, Kibbles n' Chips, NBA, Poopy the Fruit Dick Slayer, Power Bottom Redding, nnMatthew, nnSamantha
The theme of this hash was the Gooey Cumbag Special, and we were unpleasantly surprised that it lived up to its name. However, it will probably live on in memory as the Death March. Let's start off by stating that the temperature hit at least 100 degrees, and the hares announced that the length of trail was going to be about 4 miles. The hounds were of the opinion that it was at least double that distance.
Starting from Cumbag's and Poopy's abode in the Uptown area near Kellogg, trail took off to the north. The hares forgot to tell us how long to give them headstart so they immediately panicked and laid shitty and ambiguous marks, most notably switching the marks from one side of the streets to the other, forcing the hounds to treat each mark as an intersection. Trail continued to the north where we miraculously found the first BN off the railroad bike trail by Murdock St. The hares forced us to first go down one side of the bike path through shiggy, and then crossed us over to the other side to wade through green slimey "water" to get to the beer. We were delighted to find the plastic bag of exploded and half-empty cans of Genny Lite (or some other swill), with used condoms attached to the knot of the plastic bag. Trail continued to the west and then on to the north down 9th St. where we acquired a stray puppy. ASS shortcutted back to the start with puppy following. The rest of us followed trail and eventually found the second beer near west of the I-135 ditch (yes, we had the delightful experience of wading across the ditch). After the second beer near, with the evidence of sex-on-trail tied to the beer bag, trail finally led back to the south. By this time, the pack was whipped, and stumbled and crawled back to the start, whimpering the whole way.
Dip, of course, abandoned us before circle, leaving us leaderless once again. But Cuddle stepped up and adequately conducted circle. We had the puppy with us who was quite happy with the attention, water and food that we provided. She was named Hashy. We are hoping to see her on trail again. (Gooey? You hear that? She wants to live with you. Don't disappoint the pack.) Circle continued with the usual accusations and down-downs. We had a couple of dead-bugs, one most notably with dog-on-man simulated sex.
Then, before too many wankers ditched the pack, we called the birthday boy, nnMatthew, into the circle for his questioning. He provided us with lots of good stories, some of which will scar us for the rest of our lives. But, knowing that he and nnSamantha needed to get on the road for their next celebration of debauchery, the pack earnestly put our half-minds together to cum up with an appropriate name for him. So for now and forevermore, nnMatthew will be known as the Butthole Whisperer (Butthole or BeeDub) to the hashing world, or at least until he does something even more notable. On on!