Trail # 1234
Hounds: Anything Goes, Amanta, BeeDub, CIA, Cuddle Puncher, Gooey Spinjob, Hummer Gay'mes, NBA, nnColt, nnColton, nnKen, nnMelissa, nnRobin, PQuad, PBR, Puff, Tina
404 Trash not found Everyone make fun of B-Team as you wish
Hares: who knows - too many to count (excuse me if my memory fails me but I'll give it a shot): Shit, Dip, Hummer, Tina, BP, Cuddles
Hounds: that too is a blur: Dip, NBA, Tina, Dipshit, Butthole Whisperer, CIA (Caught in Action); Hummer, Cuddles, and BP on Saturday and Sunday; Chihuahua, Fast Chug, Skunk Chaser, Dribbles n' Spits, and Mamm Wich from KCH3
OK, yes, Trash Team A is a major lame-ass, but not nearly as lame as Teams B and C. That being said, the following is a synopsis of the events of the campout as Team A is able to remember, with only a little fictionalizing. So it is up to the reader to figure out the true events as well as the lies. OK, it's probably going to be mostly lies.
Friday night, the major loozers gathered at TAH3 Headquarters overlooking Lake Kanopolis and began the ritual consumption of alcohol. Promptly, at20:00 (that's 8 p.m. to you people who are not Dip), the Friday night trail was lamely set by Li'l Red Dipshit. Typically, the trail meandered around the cabin, which was monumentally longer than most of his trails. The folks who actually have lives missed this sad excuse for a trail, but were chastised for not getting there on time.
Saturday morning, the racists (or racist-wannabes) awoke early and went to the other side of the lake for the start of the Horsethief Canyon Trail Run. The folks who are in this thing for the alcohol stayed back at the cabin, passed-out, but managed to wake up in time to join the running wankers at the finish line. The trail was excellent this year with perfect temperatures, no rain, and relatively few gravity-related injuries. There were two first-place winners and one second (-rate) winner among the hash group. Circle was significant only in the circus act performed by Skunk and Dribbles.
Back to Headquarters where drinking continued. The old folks rested (no rocking chairs were provided, though), the youngsters drank, and then Hummer set trail for the afternoon hash. She considerately found a trail which was replete with just the prettiest green, three-leafed foliage.
Saturday night continued with the consumption of liquid refreshments, and Dip outdid himself with the edible spread he provided us. In fact, the eats all weekend were stupendous, in hash terms. Daddy Dip takes care of his kids. The evening's entertainment consisted of a competitive game of "Crimes Against Humanity", and then the costume event. The most notable were BeeDub's geisha ensemble, CIA's S & M outfit, and Mamm Wich's nun habit. After this, some revenge was exacted upon the passed-out Skunk body, with a Sharpie. One certain hasher felt extreme satisfaction for this retaliation of 6 years of Skunk abuse. And there was much rejoicing.
After the evening circle, we commenced the questioning and abuse of nnSamantha, who for very good reasons, was awarded the name of Caught in Action (C.I.A.). Good stories were provided which will probably scar us for years. Once again, the hare is forced to auto-bio-trash as dementia seems to be taking root for the A-Team. After grilling nnSamantha with questions regarding salad dressings, butthole licking, etc. One of TAH3's finest-Tina Eat the Piss-hared one of the weekend's most memorable, physically tasking, life-changing trails of all time. The hare took off at such a brisk pace, the pack did not even spy him taking trail around the back side of another hasher's cabin. The next thing they new, the skies turned to white as the hare blazed across Kanapolis State Park leaving behind smoke, or flour dust whatever. Rumor has it that BP hared a midnight birthday suit trail. The wankers who participated (not many were still awake/conscious at this time) raved about the quality of the trail but would not reveal any more details. Also, Tina burned his eye out after seeing Dip and Butthole Whisperer in their thongs.
The rest of the weekend is a blur. The A Team understands that there was a miserable excuse for a trail Sunday morning, but was not there to witness it. She felt it was necessary to hurry home to pray for these useless wankers' souls. On on.
Hare: Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds: NBA, Puff, Dipstick, PBR, PPL, Gooey Spinjob, nnColt, nnMelissa, nnJay, Anything Goes, Amanta(ONIN), too long ago to remember if anyone else was there.
The A, B, and C team are becoming to pathetically uncoordinated and lazy that the D team has decided to step up and auto-bio-trash for this one so that we can get caught up on trash and hopefully continue our tradition of having some remembrance of what-the-hell happened that night.
The pack started at Wichita's "Irish Pub" the Shamrock. The hare conducted chalk talk through a wrought iron fence and ran off shortly catching a brief glimpse of a man in a Jack Daniel's t shirt and mangled white baseball cap. On trail, the hounds came across a BB(BS) which turned out to be a brown bag (buttershots) because the FRB uncovered suppressed memories of going into a strange man's house for butterscotch candy, he led a portion of the pack away. Luckily for others, the homeowner happened to be a hasher and they had the privilege to partake in the creamy, buttery, 15%ABV goodness of BUTTERSHOTS!! The pack then followed a rather boring trail which took them through parts of Riverside to the beer near, at one point being spied upon by the hare. Trail went across the Keeper Bridge, the half-minds lost trail near Merle's of course and they eventually stumbled back to the patio area of the Shamrock Lounge where we scared off the few paying customers with our usual antics. We did not scare off the virgin-nnJay who was made to cum by nnKen who wasn't even there. Puff did his standard deadbugs and one which was owed to Dip from a previous hash. Amanta happened to be in the area after a trip to Larryville, so she happened to walk into the Shamrock and find TAH3. What a surprise! She was dressed in normal people clothes so we spared her having to do a deadb
Hares: Phi Pee Licker and Poopy the Fruit Dick Slayer
Hounds: Amanta, Anything Goes, Butthole Whisperer, Chev Ho Laid, Gooey Spinjob, NBA, Power Bottom Redding, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, Tina Eat the Piss, nnKen, nnRobin, nnSamantha, nnTambra
This was advertised (sort of) as a politically incorrect commemoration of a particular national tragedy (that kind of reminded me of not being able to call Voldemort by his name). But I think a more appropriate theme might be the "Pee and Poop Trail, taking into account the names of the hares and the shittiness and pissiness of this particular trail. Starting from Joe's Bar on Washington Street, the hares requested a 30 minute lead, which the valiant hounds provided. Trail meandered through the Old Town area, doubling back on itself a few times, leaving the pack to wonder what was actually in the beverages the hares had consumed before taking off. The hares also used a dark blue chalk which was next to impossible to see in the gathering twilight. Thank heavens they remembered to throw flour every now and then, so that we could eventually find trail. We thought it was especially fitting when they threw flour in front of the police substation and wrote "Death to the Pigs" in white chalk. We all laughed at this, but don't tell Dip. There might still be repercussions since they also wrote the website as well as Dip's phone number. At first we were a little wary of this, but then we thought, hey, it's been a good 14 years since the last anthrax incident, and besides, the po-po need to grow a sense of humor. Plus it was in the spirit of the theme.
Trail ended back at Joe's, the home of $1 tacos and cheap beer. Since we were left leaderless yet again by our RA who doesn't seem to give a rat's ass about the pack, circle was ineptly conducted by NBA, who clearly doesn't know what she's doing. Accusations were flung, Puff refused his dead-bug, songs were sung, wait staff were offended, and there was much rejoicing. On on!
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!
Hounds: Amanta, Boathouse Pussy, Cuddle Puncher, Gooey Spinjob, Hummer Gay'mes, Phi Pee Licker, Poopy the Slayer, Power Bottom Redding, PUTA, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber,Tina Eat the Piss, BDSM (Larryville), nnCollin, nnColt, nnDaniel, nnJonathan (TelAviv - friend of Hummer), nnKen, nnMatthew, nnMelissa, nnMike, nnRobin, nnSamantha, nnTambra
404 Trash not found (C Team is a lazy wank)
Hares: Cuddle Puncher and Hummer Gay'mes
Hounds: Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, Power Bottom Redding, Anything Goes, Tina Eat the Piss, Gooey Spinjob, and The Slayer and Cumbag at ONIN
The 1223rd running of the Tornado Alley Hash House Harriers was an experience that will forever be remembered by those who attended. Surely, the day will be marked each year with a toast and songs memorializing the adventures embarked upon from O'Malley's Pub at 31st South and Meridian. The hashers hid their vehicles behind the house of libations in order to confuse any latecummers to the hash. The hares took off but Hummer Gay'mes realized she didn't have any chalk. Rather than ask her co-hare for some, she attempted to fashion a true trail marking out of her own vomit. As admirable as her spirit was, Cuddle Puncher had an extra piece of chalk, so the hares only had to follow vomitrail for a short time.
After an easy jaunt through several southside back yards, the hares encountered their first water crossing. They were required to cross gaids-infested waters on precariously balanced stumps. Gooey Spin Job, who has lived fabulously with gaids for several years now, frolicked through the water without a care in the world. His joyful singing and playing in the sludge alerted the hares (who were nearly caught up) to the hounds' presence a few yards away and Cuddles and Hummer were only able to hide themselves in a pile of burrs and thorns just in time.
The hounds entered a forest and found the beer near in a cement hole in the ground surrounded by a poison ivy and wild hemp grove. The hares left behind such an ample amount of golden nectar that the hounds spent most of the afternoon quenching their collective thirst and enjoying good conversation and fellowship in beer. As they were preparing to leave, a trampling through the brush was heard and Puff came crashing through the trees in a frenzy. It appears that the Ass Grabber had been chased into the woods through the nettle patch by a rabid skunk which was attracted by his Puff Musk.
After the Beer Near, the hounds encountered numerous challenges which cannot be recounted here, for fear of legal reprisal. Trail eventually crossed a razor-topped fence which most hashers were loathe to hop. Gooey once again showed his mettle by taking a wild leap over the fence, but alas! He tore his scrotum open on one of the razors, losing one of his three testicles in the process. Incidentally, it was the ball he referred to as 'roast beef'. Anything Goes prudently found trail over a low spot in the fence and led the rest of the pack to shortcut past Hummer's cunningly laid YBF and into a truck stop parking lot.
The pack crossed under I-235 through what can only be described as a mud tunnel, where Tina lost a shoe to the muck and had to fashion a sandal out of straw and nettles. Out in the daylight, the hounds were met by the hares, whose original ONIN at Blue Lake was being jealously guarded by a violent National Coast Guard volunteer. The group then autohashed to the improvised ONIN at O'Malley's. Songs were sung, beer was drunk. Puff got to experience a towering flying deadbug and we all rejoiced. After circle, we enjoyed the ambiance and various drink specials O'Malley's had to offer.