A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
ReHash #528: First of the Screw Year
Hare: @#$!-sucking Butt Floss
Hashers Present: Hot Lips, Master Baster, Spike, Liquor Harder, Porcelain Goddess, Just Scott, Pippi, Cocksmith, Harry Condom, Doris Dictoria, Bedside Pole Dancer, UFO, JSUAD, Just Matt, Just Holden, Just Rebekah, Just KC, Just John, and any other hashers that I forgot (you just aren’t important enough)
A ReHash in Verse
(or An Ode to My Ass)
by Porcelain Goddess
Oh such asses on hashers you’ve never seen!
You could bounce quarters to the moon and back.
Preparing to run where they’d never been
With no idea this @#$!-sucking trail might be whack.
(And I don’t mean ‘whack’ in a good handjob kinda way.)
A brisk chill off the lake whipped thru Stewart Park
Extra hats and gloves the hashers did don.
The @#$!-sucking hare, Floss, allowed us all to embark
On his @#$!-sucking Screw Year Hash was on!
(Just as an aside: though PG penned this rehash, it is definitely not ‘PG’-rated.)
Confusion ensued, like all good hash starts
But soon the @#$!-sucking trail was found.
I muttered something about the Hare’s diminutive private parts
Surprise! Up the steep hillside the flour marks wound.
(My ass had a feeling this might be a seriously @#$!-sucking trail right about here.)
But what is this we see at the top of the hill?
Is that a Back Check after our arduous climb?
Turn around, to the bottom, one @#$!-sucking hare to kill.
Aren’t you all impressed with PG’s ability to rhyme?
(We eventually went back up the hill we had just come down. I spent much of it staring at Harry Condom’s ass. Has anyone else noticed how lovely it is?)
From here, the @#$!-sucking trail went up, up, and then
It kept going up and, oh yes, up some more.
By now I’d imagined castrating the @#$!-sucking hare again
A Beer Near shout from the FRBs postponed the gore.
(Only a local would know about the shady BN spot near the highway exit. A local…or a murderer looking to hide a dead body.)
The @#$!-sucking hare said we’d go down from here —
‘Going down’ wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.
I realized on the uphill that I hash for more than cheap beer
Only hashers would tolerate a ‘YBF’ for the camaraderie.
(At this point, we realized that we’d lost two Virgins – and a damn good rickshaw. You’d think we’d pay better attention to the Virgins – and the rickshaws.)
In Cayuga Heights, there was a new and interesting sensation.
The hare is still a @#$!-sucker but his ambition I appreciate.
We’re going down! Our ass cheeks jiggle! It’s a celebration!
Just as we were picking up speed, Liquor Harder stopped to urinate.
(No, really she just dropped trou and peed under the little bridge. We didn’t actually see her ass, but we all know that it’s booty-licious.)
Past the flour-pilfering squirrels we did suspiciously tarry,
Obsenities flowing from our lips at the flour letters scrawled —
@#$!-sucking Back Check (@#$!-sucking hare) up into the cemetery?!?
A well-timed Beer Near prevented the hare from being mauled.
(Did anyone else notice that we didn’t see Floss’ floss once during this hash? Normally I’ve seen it 3 or 4 times by this point.)
I’m sure the last part was the best of the hash.
In the murky moment, my ass was NOT alone.
Figuring I could make it up the distance with a short-cutting dash,
I stayed in the cemetery because I found a large bone.
(Get it? Cemetery? Dead bodies? Bones? Get your minds out of the gutter.)
Best trail of the year! It was super! Orgasmic!
The pains in my ass are now forgotten – history!
Beer, circle, and beer. (ok, the hare doesn’t have a small dick)
Why we all love to hash no longer a MYSTERY!
(Of course it was the best trail of the year. It’s the ONLY one we’ve had this year. The usual awards were given. Spike is now Sheriff of the Hash. Just KC bonged a beer like an expert. Baster pantomimed the hasher’s rendition of ‘Swing Low’. The Cool Hashers met for beer and wings at LeHigh Valley. The Uncool Hashers went in peace and probably got a piece.)