Hares: NBA and PBR
Hounds: Puff, Stumpy, Boobs, ASS, Anything Goes, Dipshit, nnJared, Peep'n'Dick, nnLeslie, nnSarah, Chihuahua, Fast Chug, Too Cheap To Deny, Cock-Asian, nnChris, Pee Pee, Gooey, and Dip for circle only
We had a great turnout on Saturday at GPNC complete with virgins, visitors, and birthday girls! The hares took off from the parking lot and the hounds followed shortly thereafter down a misleadingly shiggy-lite first leg. We knew that things were going to change as soon as we realized the hares had lovingly placed the first beer near in a very healthy patch of ivy—the poisonous variety. After that we had the choice of three tunnels: a) mud, b) water, or c) mud and water. Most of the pack opted for B after ASS fell on his ass in the mud tunnel and turned back toward the BN. It was at this point that one virgin busted out his technology and warned his late-cumming virgin friend to just turn around and go home.
The remainder of the trail was one that Tequila Tony would have been proud to call his own. There was plenty of shiggy, and even though the water only went as high as our knees a few of us almost lost our shoes in the mud underneath. Stumpy was pretty worried about all the dead bodies and/or needles in the tunnels. I hope for everyone’s sake that Peepin’ Dick was taking notes on how to mark trail through shiggy!
We found our way to two more beer nears (yay!) and finally back to the on-in near the parking lot. Dip decided to regale us with his presence as RA even though he had better things to do than trail that afternoon. Luckily, those things involved drinking so he was properly lubricated for a good circle! There was much rejoicing, and dead bugs. Cockasian was fortunate enough to avoid a towering-flying dead bug when the rest of us realized that our activities were about “three minutes from a hate crime”, according to one virgin. Chihuahua showed everyone her Chihuahuas in circle, to the surprise of no one. But the best part was all the name brand chips NBA brought! It was a delightfully shitty trail and the delight continued down the street at Larry Bud’s for on-after.
Side note: this writer does not recommend eating a hamburger from a place like Larry Bud’s. There will be consequences.
Hounds: Rhinestone Catbitch, Cumbag Shitpants, nnMylinda, Peep'n'Dick, Amanta F & F, Pee Pee Licker, Power Bottom Redding, Anything Goes, nnJocelyn, Hummer Gay'mes, Boathouse Pussy, nnLeslie, nnKen, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, Gooey Spinjob, Tina Eat the Piss, Kibbles 'n' Chips
After the Peep'n'Debacle of #1213, the good wankers of TAH3 deserved a treat in the form of a respite from long, punishing trails and aggressive shiggy. Unfortunately, our evil hare informed us as we gathered at Harry's Uptown, we would also be getting a respite from beer on this, the shittiest of trails. "That's right, bastards and bitches," NBA crowed to the thirsty throng, "you don't DESERVE a Beer Near!" and she disappeared in a puff of chalk dust. Dejected, we set off toward College Hill with no promise of reward to spur us on. The only enthusiastic parties were a pair of racist virgins who didn't know any better.
However, we all know that Hares lie. And, fortunately for us, NBA is second only to the serpent in her absolute dishonesty. For lo, on the hot pavement in front of the patio at Ziggy's, we found a surprise Beer Near marking! Gooey Spin-Job bought everybody beers in a misguided attempt to get someone, ANYone to like him. Sorry, Gooey. We only like drinking your beer (editor's note: ha!).
After a nice, casual trail which took us through a school playground and over a water crossing that was more algae than water, we arrived at ONIN behind NBA's manse. We circled up and within minutes, AmanTa Feel'n'Fuck had taken over RA duties and, to make Dip proud, gave Puff The Magic Assgrabber a deadbug. After Puff's necessary humiliation, NBA donned the mantle of RA and promptly lost control of the circle to her foster children who were driving Mad Max inspired war machines around the yard, frightening the poor, thirsty hashers. When they finally tired of their game, circle resumed, and, like any good kennel, we drank NBA out of house and home and far into the night.
Hounds: Ate Something Shocking, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, Pee Pee Licker, No Blow Angel, Power Bottom Redding, Gooey Spinjob, Hummer Gay'mes, Anything Goes
Had the Cherokee Nation not dibbsed the title of "Trail of Tears" for their puny relocation stroll, that would have been the perfect name for Peep'n'Dick's trail. This trash writer does have to give props to the Dick for taking us through the lovely environs of Bel Aire, since it was a new location for all of us, but that's as far as the praise will go with this trash. Oh, wait, he did provide us with a watermelon.
So, to begin, the pack watched as the Dick poured flour from a 25 pound bag of flour into his hash bag, but he forgot that one can't buy beer before noon on Sundays, so we were greeted at the start with NO BEER. Gooey valiantly drove to get us the golden elixir. This oversight also meant that Peep'n couldn't pre-stash the one beer-near beforehand. So he took off with 20 pounds of flour in one hand and 15 pounds of beer in the other. Feeling sorry for the wanker, we gave him a good 15 minutes head (who said....?) start. Evidently, he was deathly afraid we'd snag him, so he set the record for the number of intersections on one trail. He also didn't think he had enough flour, so he threw plops that strongly resembled bird droppings. I will not dwell on the trauma that the scant marks inflicted on the pack, but just know that most of us are making emergency appointments with our shrinks this week.
Wait, if I don't talk about the shitty markings, I won't have anything to talk about. After an hour of searching for trail in the neighborhoods (perhaps a quarter of a mile), the trail led us to our first shiggy, a muddy soybean field. The marks just stopped. Another 20 minutes of searching passed, and then our Native American Sicilian, Hummer, located a tiny plop in the field, not in a logical trail-like fashion, but 20 yards to the east. The Dick's bi-polar tendencies emerged, with 4 or 5 plops of flour, one right after the other, and then a dearth of marks for at least the length of two football fields. Hummer continued her magic and located the virtually unmarked beer-near in a hedgerow of vicious sticker bushes/trees. Once hydrated, we continued on through the sticker hedge, over a barbed wire fence, through poison ivy, and then continued in the Dick's erratic fashion to the east. Have I mentioned bloody wounds and bee stings? Trail continued on to Woodlawn, but it was at this point that the pack started thinning out. Only 3 wankers were race-ist enough to finish this trail of torture, with the majority of us shortcutting back to the on-in.
Circle consisted mostly of beer being poured in the general vicinity of Peep'n'Dick's prostrate face. We only got to a flying dead-bug because Gooey made a false accusation and we had to start over. No worries, we had enough material to start over with the dead-bug process. All in all, it was a shitty trail and there was much rejoicing. On on!
Hares: Cumbag Shitpants and Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds: Dipstick, Puff, Pee Phi Licker, Amanta FF, BP, Hummer Gay’mes, NBA, Poopy the Fruitdick Slayer, Gooey SpinJob, Peeping Dick, Power Bottom Redding, Eager to Cum (Trailing in Tulsa Shiggy (T.I.T.S)), Anything Goes, nnJocelyn, nnMylinda, nnMelissa, nnColt, nnMike, nnScott
What can we say about Wednesday? It was cumbagshitpants' virgin hare and a predictably shitty trail in and around downtown Wichita. Beer near was in a classic tah3 location by the train tracks and we circled up at heroes. There were plenty of modified deadbugs (patio rules) but I don't think they were any better than the classic deadbug--unless you like getting a pitcher of beer dumped on your face. A visitor from Tulsa taught us a few new songs and we had a ton of no names return. One of them apparently even read previous trash and visited buildyourownwhistle.com for a super rad bedazzled whistle. A great turn out for a shitty trail! ONON!
Hare: Cuddle Puncher
Hounds: Dip, ASS, Dipshit, PPL, Cumbag Shitpants, Poopy, nnRussell, Tina, PBR, Hummer Gay'mes at ONIN
First of all, Tornado Alley Hash House Harriers would like to apologize for the extreme lateness of this trash. We at TAH3 strive to be a respectable organization, what with our thousands of hours of cummunity service hours (court appointed of course) but the C team didn’t get called off the bench until the last minute and after sitting so long, it's hard to pull a chewie that far out of your ass. I will do my best to recall the events of last Saturday through the fog of beer and heat. It was stupid hot.
The hare took off from Sedgwick County Park in what we were pretty certain was a plagiarized version of trail #1195; however, Cuddles claims to have been out of the country for that one. But really, it was basically the same thing but kinda backwards and we didn’t even get to go through the creepy junkyard-type place with piles of rusty shit everywhere. We were led to believe that the owner of said establishment threatened Cuddles with a shotgun. This writer suspects that the “no trespassing” signs were enough to scare him and not a hairy bellied redneck holding a rifle and bottle of Jergens. How unhashlike! We found our way to both beer nears and several water crossings. We also stopped for bomb pops from a sketchy ice cream van. Much to our disappointment, they were Mexican bomb pops and not the red, white, and blue American ones we were expecting. How unpatriotic, it was like we had to enjoy the bomb pops in Spanish or something. Hell no am I gonna press 2 to enjoy this frozen treat goddammit! Cuddles will soon be moving away from his mother hash to become an Elvis impersonator or some shit and we will surely miss his shitty trails! He'll likely return just to be FRB every couple of weeks and stock up on cheese sand. Until then, Fuck off Cuddles!!!
Dip appeared to struggle a bit when it came time for circle. (we did sing a few songs four times) I’m not sure if it was the heat, the beer, or the champagne he had for breakfast but somehow we made it. Plenty of Extra Gold was consumed by all. After accusations it was time to name nnRuss—who expressed concern about getting a boner during the questioning. Some potential names were Stripper Gripper, Baconcave, and Maytag Man. It was a fun naming and nnRuss —will now and forevermore be known as Gooey Spin Job.
Hare: Hummer Gay'mes
Hounds: nnMike, nnScott, nnColt, nnMelissa, AnythingGoes, AmanataF&F, BestialityB4Boys, CuddlePuncher, CumBagShitPants, DipStick, NBA, nnMylinda, nnRussell, PoopyTheFruityDickSlayer, PuffTheMagicAssGrabber. TinaEatThePiss
Hummer, Hummer, Hummer.........as they say, practice makes perfect. So keep practicing, because this trail was shitty. Trail took off west from the Vagabond, and the pack was oh, so hopeful, that this was the trail that would rock the hashing world. We followed trail down nasty-ass alleys, and through an even nastier-ass private yard, so we had our hopes up that this would be the stuff legends are made of. But our hopes were soon dashed. Around the Indian Center, trail got very, very confusing. And this was not helped by the lame-ass FRBs not marking trail for the DFLs. After much searching, we finally found the BN by the tennis courts. Somehow, Puff had gotten EXTREMELY off-trail (understandable since the marks were few and far between), and we spied him across the river by the art museum. We may never know how he got over there; some mysteries are just not meant to be solved.
We continued trail around the tennis courts (I feel much more up-scale just by being in such close proximity to the Swells), and the promised Turkey/Eagle split took the Eagles (racists) down and around one of the courts. Sheesh. Trail then continued tamely on, through the park, across the bridge by the Keeper of the Plains, through the Sticker Bushes from Hell, then off to the south though a shitty-ass empty lot. The hare thought it would be funny to take us up and over a vicious chain link fence guarded by exceptionally lush poison ivy. Exactly two hounds had low-enough IQs to climb over the fence. The rest of the pack walked leisurely around the fence, and then found trail back to the on-in, which was at the Monarch.
After consuming many hydrating beverages, circle was conducted by Dip, so we had a couple of obligatory dead-bugs (fictional offenses, as usual). We may have scared off one or two of the no-names due to our awesomeness, or lame-ass adolescent antics depending on one's viewpoint, but we hope that most of them will return. Songs were sung, hilarity ensued, and there was much rejoicing. On on!
Hounds: BP, Hummer Gay'mes, PPL, Syrup of Epicock, Cockasian, Puff, PBR, Cuddle Puncher, Tequila Tony, Dip, Shit, nnRuss, nnCharlie
As a solo hare, PQuad had an auspicious start with the Wichita Police Department swooping in on our meeting place at Buffalo Park. The cops ran us off, which was unfortunate since we really didn't have a trail to follow. Luckily, nnCharlie knew where to go, so several hounds were able to follow him across a golf course and to the Beer Near at an abandoned parks project.
After the BN, we had a minor water crossing at which Tequila Tony thumbed his nose, but just the other side of the water he got tangled up in a thorn bush that Syrup of Epicock was kind enough to help him out of. Dip got caught in the same bush, which tore off his conspicuously racist shirt to reveal his dalmatian shirt beneath.
The hounds came to a labyrinthine network of poorly marked drainage tunnels where no light had penetrated since the Whitechapel murders. We constructed makeshift torches out of the remains of Dip's racist attire and scattered to find the outlet. Shit barely made it out alive and when the hounds found him huddling near the exit, he was pale and kept muttering "Yuengling" to himself. He would never speak again of the horrors he saw that day.
ONIN was PQuad and nnCharlie's abode where a terrifyingly teenaged driver was awaiting the hounds to get them back to their vehicles. We eventually circled up and it was merry. Dip and Shit did a number of father-son deadbugs in order to show the visiting hashers (Syrup and Cockasian) just what we do best at TAH3. Then we got down to the serious business of naming nnCharlie. After serious beer drinking and joking deliberation we proclaimed that now and forevermore, nnCharlie shall be known as Shart Attack.
Hare: Cuddle Puncher
Hounds: Dip, Puff, Coyote Cockwise, PBR, Kibbles 'nChips, PeePhiLicker, Hummer Gay'mes, Amanta, Tina, nnRussell, nnMelinda, Tequila Tony, BP at ONIN
The Tornado Alley Hash House Harriers care about the environment. None more so than Cuddle Puncher, who in an effort to reduce his carbon footprint, recycled the bulk of his trail in a truly lazy display of shitty trail.
We started from El Mexico Cafe, where Cuddles had a reservation for the entire kennel, but neglected to inform us of the dress code beforehand. Dip's spotted tank top was in clear violation and the manager attempted to get him to wear a jacket. Tumult ensued and before the cops arrived, the hounds took off.
After immediately losing ourselves in a mini mall trying to follow Cuddles' gay pride markings, trail took us around to Watson Park, where one of the cops hot on Dip's trail caught Tequila Tony and sweated him for information on the Dalmatian fugitive. After questioning, the officer asked Tony to pass along the message that nobody ever exercises on the south side of Wichita. Trail continued through a pasture of mini horses and mini trainyards until the Beer Near on the shore of Watson Pond.
After a few twists and turns through the park, we found ourselves on uncomfortably familiar ground. The hounds were forced to follow the exact same trail back to El Mexico. By then a police cordon had been set around the building to interview witnesses and continue building the case against Dip so the hounds reconvened in Boathouse Pussy's back yard.
Circle was an enormous celebration for the kennel, with BP and Pee Phi Licker both drinking for their 100th hashes and Tequila Tony bidding a fond TTFN to Wichita. Amanta Feel and Fuck made the mistake of asking Puff the Magic Ass Grabber to pour her deadbug for her but he heard 'teabag' and was ready for the wrong kind of Down Down. Luckily, Amanta course corrected and Puff felt so bad about his mistake, he gave her the nicest pour the hashers had ever seen. Finally, the cops caught up with Dip and sent in undercover agents who were disguised as tiny children and in a supreme abuse of excessive force, the cops repeatedly spanked everyone in sight, warning us to never set foot in El Mexico Cafe again.
Hash Trash - A recap of bygone hashes.