I've always said, if you want me to write trash, piss me off. Well, I got pissed off at this miserable excuse for trail. It turns out, the hares were planning to kill us, or at least some of us, a sort of a culling of the herd, so to speak. They failed, thank Gispert, since we've run out of our Died on Trail patches, and you know we all do this for the patches. But more about the death plan later.
So there we were (no shit, tell us about it....), extra pretty in our new red dresses, hoping to catch the eye of some random perv who might be into hairy men in dresses. As we meandered our way through WSU's campus, we knew we were convincing many high school seniors who were taking campus tours that we were their kind of people and oh boy, they want to go to school here; either that, or maybe it was time for them to start looking into Liberty University.
First beer stop was by the baseball stadium. This was our first clue that something was amiss. Why would the beer crew need two beer wagons, unknown amounts of garden tools, and multiple rough-looking henchmen? We were so naive.
Trail was pleasant enough through the rest of campus and then on north into a lovely neighborhood of curious people who weren't used to odd-looking people walking by, casing their houses for future break-ins. Turns out we were slowly being lulled into hash stupors. We finally found the second refreshment stop at the School of Oral Health, and there was much rejoicing because there was a port-a-potty waiting for us.
On the next leg of trail, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber was spotted in his vehicle making a get-away from this shit-show. He must have forgotten his red dress and was on his way home to fetch it. Either that or he set a record for being excessively late or excessively lost on trail.
Next up was a jello shot stop, then major limping and whining to the third beer stop. The cruel aspect to this was that the stop was located within the cemetery, which was surrounded by an 8 foot tall chain link fence, and we had to continue to go another half-mile out of our way to reach the BN. And all the while, the sadistic beer crew/grave diggers were jeering us and crowing over their access to the refreshments at the stop.
This was when the pack finally realized the purpose of this trail: Death. Why else would they lure us to the cemetery? Why did they need two “beer wagons” full of potential digging tools and 15 creepy grave diggers? Why else would they try to stupify us with excessive beverages? The Safety Monitor was even tempting us with with quaaludes before trail. Well, it didn't work. We athletes knew we were within a mile of the on-in. We continued on trail, stopping for a final shot stop at Kirby's, where the luxurious bathrooms were a much-appreciated plus. The kamikaze shots were a surprise bonus.
The pack made it back to the on-in. We participated in the circle, with the obligatory lauding of the hares and their shitty trail. Major awards went to clASS, for slipping and falling for absolutely no reason; to White Claw, for continuously putting English words together without making any sense, and not taking a breath for 20 minutes whilst doing it; and finally to Tina, for Best Pissing on Trail (on BTK's vehicle's rear tire). We missed the opportunity to point out the major flaw of trail: we should have been given trash bags to pick up trash, this being Earth Day and all. Mis-man has to be at fault for our missing this accusation by numbing our brains with beverages.
After circle we stuffed our bellies full of baked potatoes, chili, cornbread and beverages, thus resulting in our forgetting to call 911 to report the attempted mass murders. On on!
Leave a Reply.
A recap of bygone hashes.