Hares – Grind Slut, Ass Wipe, Charity Fuck
Virgins – 10
Visitors – 5
Total Hashers – 80
Quote of the run: “It’s a Festivus miracle!”

Feats of strength! Airing of grievances! The aluminum pole! Such is the Festivus tradition brought to you yearly (and frequently by Grind Slut). This year, your hares suckered another nubile female virgin into their religious zeal. This was an apparent attempt to deflour Charity Fuck. Last year it was Circle Jerk. My how they move on quick! The hares promised a 4 mile run, the pinning of the heads (who said head?!), and other acrobatic amusement…little did they know…Festivus would take a turn for the long.

The trail began in Memorial Park, as most good things do, with a swoop around the Fruit Loop and into oncoming cyclist traffic. We passed near the ending of last year’s Festivus run, shed a tear for when we tied I Am Cumstain to the pole, and moved along, skimming Memorial before touching along Hooter Bill’s favorite shiggy. You know the one patch of shiggy by Arnot? The one so frequently used, we stopped leaving money for it on the dresser? The patch of shiggy who is so battered, we keep telling her we don’t mean it and that we just get so angry sometimes?  That one. Needless to say, the shiggy forgave us once more and we trailed along the road instead until heading towards the highway. A breeze washed over us on Washington, and the faint smell of Sunday afternoon douchebags wafted on the air. It smelled faintly of old pickles and Axe body spray. Good times.
Attack of the train tracks! From nowhere appeared a rogue train track meant to wreak havoc on tender ankles and FRBs. Instead of following the tracks directly (which we obviously should have done), the hounds commenced a stair step along the side of the tracks, paralleling then running perpendicular to our intended target. A few hashers got the chance to see FRBs ahead and shortcut the stair step, narrowly avoiding the extra potential mile in what was to be a “4 mile run”. Lies!

A bit of a jumble around Katy Road and Washington, and the hounds once more were confronted with the smell of old pickles and douchebags…but this time it was on the wrong side of Washington, and the smell most likely was emanating from a garbage can of old pickles and douchebags. An FRB hailed “On-on!” across, you guessed it, MORE railroad tracks. More of our favorite railroad tracks. These tracks are the sister to our beaten and abused shiggy patch by Arnot. These train tracks have seen more hashers on top of them than every bed at the Chicken Ranch. Those train tracks are more well-worn than the Slut Mobile. In fact, those train tracks stopped fighting long ago and just let it happen. We gave them a good pounding before crossing back over behind the Memorial Loop.

And next on the list of ways we’ve slowly choked the life from Memorial Park, on-on to the golf course! To annoy golfers and confuse them in their shallow games and glasses of whiskey. Darting back and forth, we weaved around carts, stole golf balls, mimicked their silly plaid pants, and ran a charge straight into the bar area. It was unheard of, but created from pure rage inside our hearts. Festivus is about letting those you love know how much they irk you. And every hasher hates golfers.

We circled a short distance from the highway near a nice patch of shiggy and around 5 miles total. I told you the hares lie; your trusty On-Sec would never lie like that*. In circle, the first order was to deflour sweet Charity Fuck, tousle her mousy brown hair, and send her reeling in a flour caked frenzy. It was only then that she became a true hasher. The pole was brought out, beer was consumed, and leg wrestling took place. There was an unusual amount of new boots at Festivus, and each partook in the miracles of the season by sampling the fare and drink with ease. A little too much ease. We’re watching you. At least, and for the sake of all who attended, Dangleberry did not get naked this year though he appeared close to doing so. It may have well been the last hare for our beloved Grind Slut, and a fine hare indeed. If any problems truly arose from this magical occasion, I blame them solely on Ass Wipe.

On-on to next year’s FESTivities.

-EZ to Please

(*Note: EZ to Please did not attend Festivus, but swears this account to be entirely accurate).