Hash #1811: Heartache, Just John Myers, and One Eyed Snake Charmer

We shall call this one Heartache’s Hazmat Hoopla Hash, prostate | or H4 for short because that’s not confusing at all. Keeping with the theme of confusion on the day of the hash Heartache emailed the hash email group frantically asking for his co-hare Just John’s phone #. That’s a good sign right? Well ignoring this factoid the young and the old came from far and wide for a Heartache spectacle. The weather was crispy cool (nipples!) and the local sports team had a victory so all were smiling and ready to get their light jog on. Promises and threats of preemo beer, a turkey eagle split, and walker’s trail were in mind. The anticipation was so heavy in fact that Snatch Trick’s dog Moppet took a nice big s-h-i-t on his tennis ball. He then showed everyone why a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s as she retrieved the ball from his own s-h-i-t. Seizing the opportunity Snatch Trick pimped her dog out with shitty kisses for $1. No takers so we hashed instead.

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Trail 1807 – Spy in the Sky, Yeast of Burden, Cums Anyway, McPisser

Trail 1807 – Spy in the Sky, ampoule Yeast of Burden, Cums Anyway, McPisser Labor Day Weekend Houtx 2012 A.D.

 

Being that it was labor day weekend I was reallllly hungover but I said to self, “self, get your ass to hashing and everything else is gonna be alright.” Did you just read that last bit in Bob Marley voice? Good. And I’m glad I went because those hares laid such a good trail that no one even sang them the Shitty Trail song! Until later when we realized it at the bar. But that comes later. Let’s go to sooner. So we started off at some school and I’ll leave off the obligatory Whale’s Vagina mention, but he was, and then we darted across a field. Trail laid us to some drainage ditch with a high fence. Lemmings lined up single file to crawl under the fence when FBI hopeful Snatchatarius said why the fuck is everyone being all orderly and shit? And then cut the line. All’s fair in love & hashing bitches! FRB hopeful Fucking Tree Hugger went the opposite route, as in up. Have you ever seen him do his squirrel monkey fence climbing impersonation? It’s quite breathtaking. I think it was DFL hopeful Too Drunk To Fuck who did neither of these routes, as he found a nice big hole

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#1799 Brrrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh’s Live Trail

‘Sup. A live trail hared by Brrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhh‘s porno pink shorts turned a lot of people upside down. Pull the Plug reported that FRB’s were frosting at the mug during happy hour and were taunting poor old Brghhhhhhhhh that they were going to catch her and then steal her shorts and then do a Silence of the Lambs tuckjob and prance around in her skivvies. The scoundrels. May your johnsons forever rot in PI.

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#1795 – Whale’s Vagina Birthday Trail

Whale’s Vagina, Meatbox, & Unlaiden Swallows

The hares assembled a big kennel with promises of golfers, rich doctors (same thing?), crevice exploring nurses, and a whole cooked pig at the ending. So why not right? We congregated under the 1st true Texas heat of the summer at the Herman golf course. The pack yacked loudly as boys played golf around us and looked at us in bewilderment and horniness. After Whale V. gave us the true tail sign several hashers ran directly on to the golf course. HEY! These bastards were trying to Bo Jackson it – if Bo traded baseball for golf and football for hashing of course, which he did in the later part of his career. That card isn’t worth very much.

Whale must have listened to Al Roker (I later found out Al is Whale’s life coach on all matters) because his trail hugged the medical center very closely. Should a hasher fall to the heat they were only an ant’s pecker away from a cool medical bed and a nurse’s attention. Crapballs I should have tried that or pulled a sandlot. Next time.

Whale’s true motivation for laying a birthday trail was shown in his choice of ending, which was a covered park area that was littered with froglicking, no frolicking children. Is that why he had to flee Austin? The PoPo took a keen interest in the hash as thousands of hashers innocently followed flour over the street and into the children’s den. Some lame ass, probably the same dude that makes kids wear helmets, calls that jaywalking in books. The coppers realized that we are just lemmings so they issued 500 written warnings and parked their cruiser under a shaded tree to witness the rest.

At this point Whale’s Vagina and Lewis & Clark had to find a suitable circle spot since we didn’t have enough earmuffs to give the children. Clowns to the left of me jokers to the right. They found a PERFECT spot right next to the train tracks. This meant every 10 seconds a small train would come by carrying even more children by us. Whale stood there drooling. They must have been showing Indiana Jones on cable too much because Horsefli Drive-bi jumped on the back of the train and rode it into circle. Horsefli often confuses children with Nazis.

Have you ever watched Goodfellas on network television? Circle was like that, songs were sung with a lot of bleeping going on. It was really funny. A visitor named Pounding Father sang a hilarious tune about monkeys beeping monkeys. It was then noticed that one of the hares, Unlaiden Swallows, was missing. People started thinking about the delicious pig they had just eaten. Had Whale cooked Unlaiden Swallows and turned us all into cannibals? Probably. But she would have wanted us to continue circle, and that’s what we did as harrierettes subbed in for her. Someone kidnapped an innocent student on their way to Sunday school. This boy, who was wearing a backpack with an entire keyboard sticking out of it, drank a down down beer while turning in circles the whole time. Momma would be proud. Hey really if anybody has seen Unlaiden Swallows let us know. OnOn!

H4 #1793 — Unlaiden Swallow’s Birthday Hash

Hares: Unlaiden Swallows, Snatch Trick & Flatline

Our crafty harrierettes gave the vague start description as Stude park. Two different camps of hashers parked in different lots waiting for the other to arrive. After realizing this Camp Boy Parts merged with Camp Lady Parts and the hash was ready to begin. This wasn’t the only bit of trickery connived by these lovely ladies. Last week’s trail was laid in the same area and since we’ve had zero rain this week that flour was still able to steal hashers and lead them to their deaths. Or maybe not. Our hares did put specs of orange in their flour so thank you science.

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