IH3 Trail #713 Twin Peaks

Posted on March 14, 2014 by Gispert

Hares
Head to Toe In Utero
Nurse TaKillyaHounds
Spike
Butt Floss
Ookie Cookie
Pocketful of Lube
Extra Testicle
Brown Hole Delivery
The United Auto Twerker
Master Baster
Porcelain Goddess
Cum On! We’re So Close formerly known as Just Doug
Virgin Kevin
Country Cock
One Trick Dick
Kickstand
Utica Chub

Tastes Like 10th Grade

Bobbit
Oakus PokusI knew it was going to be a good day when Floss said we needed to swing by and pick up a visiting hasher from way back who had moved out of town and hadn’t been hashing in 8 years. I figured, this guy is going to want a homecumming welcome and we’re going to give it him.
Extra Testicle got into the back seat of Floss’ car with me and I could tell he was excited. He asked me if there would be nakedness or sex on trail. I laughed and said probably not today, it’s pretty cold out.

I was wrong.

Harriers were gathering in the parking area at Head and Oakus’ house, in front of their garage, getting ready for Chalk Talk and enjoying a few pre-lube beverages when Phoenix got right in the middle of all of us and started humping Head’s large boxer dog. I said to E.T., “Hey, there was sex on trail after all!” The look on his face was a cross between chagrin, amusement and disappointment. *:-&lt sigh

Nurse, Brownie, Floss and Kicky were on the tail end of a St Paddy’s Trifecta hash-bender, having been to Syracuse Fried-day and Rochester on Saturday. Floss and Kicky seemed in pretty good shape but Nurse and Brownie had been subsisting on beer and Slim Jims for three days. I don’t even want to imagine what was going on in their digestive systems. Rumors abounded that Spike had actually been seen having a good time at the Green Dress Run in Flour City. Ookie was looking pretty snazzy in some brand-spanking-new Carhart overalls with snaps all the way up the leg – when did they start making tear-away stripper pants? Makes sense — who doesn’t have a fantasy man who can “grease your wheels” or “unclog your tailpipe” or “adjust your highbeams”.

I might not understand motor vehicle euphemisms.

Being that it was Nurse and Head’s birthday AND their special trail, Head was pretty giddy and we asked her, “On a scale of 1 to Stinko, how drunk are you?” She claimed sobriety at that point but that would soon change. It was not only ‘Twin Peaks’ hash but ‘Steak and Blow Jobs’ as well! Funny, I don’t remember any steak… although Floss had some hot dogs and balloons in the back of his vehicle that he waggled at us.Following marks straight up the side of the hill next to the garage, we tried to keep our footing on the super slick icy conditions. We made our way through the woods to a dirt road that wound up and around past many hunting stands and fields. The ruts were filled with ice that sometimes spanned the entire roadway making it nearly impossible to climb up the hill without sliding back down. Baster decided to try it out as a slide. He slid several feet on his rear while uttering ow!ow!ow!ow!ow! but he couldn’t stop once he’d started and he just had to ride it out. He finally gained his footing and anxiously rubbed his bum for several minutes.It must have been shortly after this that Baster veered off to follow some deer trails and reconnoitered with Ookie Cookie before reaching the first BN. Beer was found quickly in a wooded area on a steep trail and Utica Chub had the pleasure of being taller than Tasty for a few minutes while Tasty stood in a hole.

Twins Nurse and Head were wearing these awesome running pants that matched – they were black and white patterned and one butt cheek was white and one butt cheek was black. It was observed that the white cheek appeared larger on both bimbos as we climbed toward the second BN. Other Twins-for-the-day included Floss and Twerk (planned) and Baster and Extra Testicle (unplanned!).

Porcelain Goddess seemed to be having an especially difficult time climbing these steep tracts and was seen getting some ass-istance from Baster. I guess running 20 miles the day before will do that to you. Now THAT’S a hash practice! Silly r*cist! It was shortly after this moment that the first, but not the last, hash crash occurred. I am proud to say that I did not spill my beer when I lost my footing on the ice. I received some very kind ass-istance from Pocketful of Lube, who I regret to say, was another casualty of the ice a bit later. Utica Chub went down as well that day. On the ice, that is. Damn Hares! Why didn’t they melt our trail for us – lay marks with salt-laced flour or something? Ah well, safety 3rd!

Hobbling toward the next BN, we found ourselves at a cute little outbuilding at the top of a sunny, windy hill. Baster found a sun-bleached, sun-bloated Budweiser can from the last hash and sampled its vintage. He hasn’t keeled over yet, so it must have been fine — now we know that canned beer will survive the zombie apocalypse, thank Gispert! As we moved around the side of the building to find the fresh beer and get out of the wind, the hashers discovered a picnic table and found the treasure of the day — the Hasher Catcher! We amused ourselves with a broken fishing pole (which had a perfectly working reel on it and fishing line) by tying an empty PBR can to the line and casting out to snag some Hashers (or Hipsters, depending on the crowd). Baster led us in a sing-a-long to “Monday is a Wanking Day/Everyday is Wednesday” that I think ended with both Saturday and Sunday being hashing days, which is totally fine by me. More hashing! Less resting! Stepping from around the side of the building and into the sunshine and wind, looking about for flour, and what do I see? An “Elder Statesmen” committee made up of CC, ET, Floss and Kicky. So, of course, I immediately went over to invade the circle. It’s never wise to let older male hashers gather unsupervised. They tend to be up to no good. The first thing Floss says to me confirms my suspicions, “Tasty, you’re about to be _____ (indicates an age), right?” Hahaha. Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway.

On-out to find more trail, we wend our way across some fields, fighting the strong breeze but loving the vitamin D, Baster reports that at some point he found himself atop some sort of “air-traffic control tower/hunting platform, … 20 feet up… on .75 sq. feet of metal with just two sketchy bolts holding it to the pad.” Now you know why we have Rule #2.

Next stop, however, was a climb our eager little wanks were lining up for! Blow job shots! And they were hidden inside of a free-standing hunting shot-box! It was like a dog house 15 feet in the air on top of a 5 foot diameter stand-pipe, if mammary serves. Just Doug, Baster and ??? crowded in to distribute blow jobs and the rest of the pack lined up on the ladder and below and handed them down, tiny bucket firefighter-style. A person had to be careful while handing them down the ladder not to spill his cream on the person below. Country Cock is a BIG fan of cream, evidently, and willing to eat even the most outdated sweet, sweet spray — having once proven his obsession by swallowing a 3 year old’s dollop. I mean, 3 years-old dollop.

Wiping off our mouths, harriers ran for ON-IN through the fields and past Head and Oakus’ neighbors (family members?) and their vicious three dogs. Somewhere on the way, Baster picked up more found treasure in the form of a tackle box. I swear he didn’t have it with him when we left the shotgun-shack. We gratefully ran into the garage that Oakus was to have warmed up for us while we were gone on trail. And that’s when our half-minds were reduced to quarter-minds. Something had gone wrong with the kerosene heater and the garage was filled with toxic fumes that we gleefully sucked up for the next hour or so. It was decided that everyone would stay inside for circle, despite the aromatic hydrocarbons, yet keep an eye on UC and Tasty as the “Canaries in the coalmine.” Perhaps this is why Oakus accused himself of Bobbitting at his own home and volunteered to drink from the Sleeve of Shame. Dying brain cells would also explain how we came to rename Just Doug. There were a lot of great ideas being thrown around and we were almost there… should we table him for now? No! Head would have none of it! And thus, J. Doug will forever go forth as, ‘Cum On! We’re so close.’

Other accusations included birthday UP-UPs for Nurse and Head (who did her own Head-stand), and a SIDE-SIDE for Brownie. The Who Said Head? award made an appearance and I have no idea who received it or why. After all the beer was drank, we started drinking mugfuls of blow jobs so now I KNOW we were brain-damaged. Mmmmmbjs.

Getting ready to head (who said head?) out, I took the opportunity to pee before getting into Floss’ car with Twerky and ET. Of course, I was crouched next to someone else’s car and facing ET and Twerk. (That was a lot of pee, wasn’t it? Like, gallons!) Driving back to drop off ET, we had to pull over to the side of the road so he could take his turn with a pit stop and he returned the favor. So, see, there? I was wrong again. There was nudity that day, after all. Twerk and I saw ET’s penis.

I hope he enjoyed his homecumming.

ON-ON!

-Tastes Like 10th Grade

Category: ReHash