#1289

Hare: Deb’s Dipstick

Hounds: Anything Goes, Caught in Action, Butthole Whisperer, Power Bottom Redding, NN Chris, Tina Eat the Piss, Boathouse Pussy, No Blow Angel, Poopy the Fruit Dick Slayer, Cumbag Shitpants, Puff

Trail started off at the finest of Andover’s drinking establishments, Timbuktu. Upon arriving, the hares noticed a seated gentleman in suit and tie, and they realized they had finally arrived in a bar where they belonged. NN Chris in a genuine effort to show goodwill towards his hash brethren bought a pitcher of the golden nectar and shared it with the hash. Upon receiving such a generous gift, the hashers berated him, demanded more, and generally proved to him that becoming a named hasher is but one step down on a long, sad regression.

At the first intersection, the hounds scattered for at least 5 minutes in all directions from Timbuktu in order to find trail. It seemed that the hare was actually trying to have us find the city of Timbuktu. Silly hare, Timbuktu was a center of knowledge in the ancient world—Andover is a place you drive through to get to Butler Community College because you can’t afford to go to Wichita State.

Trail was finally found, and the hounds were on their way to discover more and more poorly marked trail.

Near a school, trail went through an incredibly clean set of drainage tunnels. In fact, the cleanest set of tunnels the hounds had ever seen. Which makes one wonder: Are these some sort of perverse transit point for the hare to reach his observation post near the school? Are the tunnels spotless because the hare takes such good care of these tunnels during his 36-hour child-watching taping sessions? Do they serve as his emergency bivouac when chased off the property, yet again, by the school security? We’ll never know.

In a wooded area, presumably a victim drop-off point, Dip left his trademark Turkey/Eagle split. This is a Dip trademark because the Eagle points to some random coordinate and never again meets trail.

The trail passed near Timbuktu again, and some of the hounds, so disturbed by the earlier tunnel experience which the Butler County Sheriff’s Department calls “the Tunnel of Tears”, decided to jump in their cars and auto-hash to the ONIN—and possibly to shower before circle in an attempt to rid themselves of what they had witnessed.

Trail continued on, with the markings becoming poorer and poorer, when it ran into a child’s playground (is there a recurring theme here?). This was the first redeeming act of the hare. The playground had equipment far too fun to be wasted on children, so the hounds acted accordingly and played on everything like a bunch of buffoons.

Trail continued on, and on… despite it being a Wednesday and many of the hounds having a lot of sleeping in to catch up on the next morning. Finally, the hounds arrived at ONIN at Dip’s house, to take in this wiener feast that had been advertised. It was a wiener feast indeed, with more than enough for everyone to cram into their waiting mouths. Poopy and NBA discovered a new culinary delight—the Cheeseball Hoagie. Rather than eat the unhealthy pork in the hot dogs, they preferred to fill their bellies with cheeseballs, made from ground corn husks, baked with recycled construction equipment motor oil, and preserved with whatever seeps out of Wolf Creek Nuclear Power Plant.

The hounds trashed the patio, drank the beer, gagged down the wieners, and left the mess for the hare to clean up, as a punishment for his pathetic trail. ONON!

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