A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
ok so here it goes i got a little drunk on my homebrew at the beginning when i was “learning” names soooooo…
hares
nurse
mailbait
head to toe(auto hare)
butt flossil (rescue hare)
hounds
coco
PG
winkey dinky
les….whatever his hash name is
ufo
bedside
spermholio
crimes
MOW
tripod? or something like that
twiggy
twiggy’s just person
lots of mutts
Sweden
hot lips
spike (who couldnt cum with us)
and anyone else i forgot
ok so its not good when you are trying to see if you can carpool with someone, and they are already on their way out there to “find” the hares. Then the number that was left for d’erections, is no longer in service. hummmm, an auspicious start.
so everyone arrives, dogs galore.
beer swilling and cuntry dancing ensue.
tractor ride away from civilization.
“chalk talk” actually charades game since this hash already has less flour then my “worst” trail.
people wander off in a general direction that a hare vaguely pointed in. eventually finding some flour, which was apparently set by a syphilitic badger, since while being sporadic, it also completely fails to follow any sort of path or even trajectory for the first…mile…two miles? who knows, we all kept walking in circles so it could really be any distance at all…100meters? eventually we came to a T which had a giant pit of mud there, PG and dinky mud wrestled /PG was thrown in the mud. PG starts shivering here. back onto “trail” otherwise known as a swath of trees cut down that i managed to occasionally see a sperm cloud of flour on. eventually i ended up on a road, which being in the middle of freaking nowhere, was the same road we started on. looking around i found a bird shit sized flour mark so me and a few hounds (the genetically correct hounds) started following it, every .25 miles or so i found some more signs of dehydrated birds, and eventually i heard someone yelling to me (blaa blaaa bllaaaa back here…) so i turned around and ran back. apparently i missed a beer near, which was marked about as well as a squatting turtle could have done, given two Tbs of flour.
beer drank
everyone takes off up the road where i had just gone…wondering the whole way if that was really flour. eventually we find a real mark indicating more beer……just beyond the point i had previously reached.
more beer in the lick bill cemetery (or some name very like that)
mail bait runs off to finish setting trail, telling his co-hare his plans….(or maybe he forgot this part)(or maybe she was too drunk to remember) needless to say we stumbled around a feild for a while trying to find some evidence of hare activity, also trying to conviince the dogs that they are highly trained flour sniffing dogs.
A MIRACLE we found a few splotches of flour ….. then it disappeared. more stumbling, one by one hashers abandon field and crawl towards the road, making the trek down the long trail of tears …i mean pavement back to the start. halfway back mailbait emerges from the woods right next to us with exclamations of in-credulousness. we are un-fazed.
continue long journey
find path back to field, many people fall into water, hop a few electric/ barbwire fences, shot check at which some dogs get loose and chase…or narrowly avoid getting trampled by the horses. PG has gone hypothermic by this point and plots her revenge, she finds clean dry clothes as well, and begins to thaw.
back to the wagon for circle. much punishing, not enough, but a good start. I got a mug! yay! spermholio got a collar…i mean necklace, PG got a shirt, and everyone got beer, it got cold, so we went home. on the tractor ride back we thought we saw a mongoose but it turned out to be baster so we let him hang on the side the rest of the way back.
long live the zyliphone
coco