Courtesy of: Shigmata, Mcpisser, Grind Slut, and Roller Balls (sorta)

A wearisome pall of anxiety hung heavy upon Houston’s hashers last week. Once again, Sunday was fast approaching, and no hares had enlisted to lay a trail. Late in the eleventh hour – a miracle! There would be a trail after all, and what’s more, it would be laid by mystery hares! Oooh, a mystery – somebody call Fagatha Christie! A heaping lot of hounds (any one of whom might have hared…) milled about Happy Meal Park waiting for chalk talk and speculating which of their magnanimous mates might be their savior-hare. Could it be Professor Pudknocker, in the shiggy, with the flour bag? After some interminable minutes, Shigmata emerged from a standard chalk talk and took off to lay trail solo. After waiting the traditional twelve minutes, the pack was off as well.

Now this trail was particularly complicated. In the absence of a map, follow this paragraph closely to comprehend this trail’s tortuous path. Trail went south across the Memorial loop road and west along the Seymore Lieberman Exertrail (hereafter referred to by the contracted SexTrail). After a while, flour stuck to the SexTrail going south-by-counterclockwisey , to the first beer check. Quoth Grind Slut, “If you don’t stop for a beer, you’re a wanker!” Cough, Duke of Puke, cough. From the mouths of babes, indeed. From there, dollops were doled further along the SexTrail, taking a left along Memorial Drive. After a few more furlongs, things got complicated. This time, flour followed the SexTrail to the second beer check. Sensing a pattern, the smarter hounds then followed the SexTrail (hey, flour!) a bit further back to the start. Hell yeah, A to A!

That described the Eagle trail, obviously the Turkey trail was far less confusing. In a pique of r@cism, Roller Balls absconded with some spare flour, laying a personal E2 trail, to get some exercise in. Brrrggghhh would be so proud. After waiting a lifetime and a half for car backs, the pack enjoyed beers and snacks before the start of circle.

CIRCLE

Considering the minimal prep-time the hares enjoyed before 1600 Sunday, many a fuck-up might have befallen them on this emergency trail. But in laying the shortest, most-followable trail on a luckily pleasant afternoon, everyone sincerely enjoyed themselves. Could this be TOTQ material? Take heed, prospective virgin hares! But seriously, take your time and scout something cool. But, this being the hash, circle found ways to make the hares drink anyway. Duly erected Religious Advisor Ramrod composed his congregation by yelling “Circle up!” a few times. Gotta love the classics. After dispensing with the despicable hares, the virgins were introduced: Just Andy, made to cum by Nip Stick, and Just Steven who found hashing in the internet and decided to come. That’s how it’s used, all right.

Usual business continued with visitors: Sweden’s Shiggy Piggy, Just Diego from San…Jacinto, and Catfish from the rocky mountains of Iowa. Rebooted bastards featured the aforementioned Nipstick, as well as Poon Shine and Bone Sucker. Standout special occasions included Heartache‘s 46^th anniversary of working at the same place (the original Montrose Glory Whole!) and I’m A Big Girl Now‘s last trail before her departure to Tanzania. The pack requested a valedictory display of tatas, to which she responded with nah-nahs. In a venal act of cock-tease, she merely exposed her sports bra, a transgression she has committed numerous times. Seriously, if she offers you a handjob, expect a handshake. If she offers a handshake, expect a wave. If she offers a wave, wave goodbye. Just kidding, God speed, IAGBGN! Later on she was floured, a delayed penance from the OTR.

Mercifully, accusations could commence. Gig ‘Em was admonished for departing to Austin, and the pack wanted to see her tits too. Denied again, she was at least treated to some swinging tits. The hares were complimented for the, ah, lovely scenery on the SexTrail. In a strange bit of post-trail defoliation, Ramrod appeared to shave his legs upon arrival at the On In, but left his face hair be. Because he hates his fucking face. A Voodoo Monkey survival social was held next. May G bless and keep their livers. Whale Tail drank for needing a boyfriend, not for sex, just to twist off her beers. Everybody needs a good twist, once in a while. Next in the On Sec’s notes, verbatim: look at Ramrod, imagine him with no shorts, yum yum. Well if it was written down, the On Sec must have thought it. There was then a social for the umbrella holders in circle. Here’s to the ones smart enough to stay dry but dumb enough to risk electrocution.

In a gambit to fit in at circle without actually knowing the songs, the RAJust Aramis drank for mouthing along during his down down song. The improvident lackwit, Dangleberry, drank for not paying his hash cash, as he was looking for trail in all the wrong places. The (attention) whore Bone Sucker was next recognized for her cub scout uniform in circle. Experienced boy scouts informed her that class-As are either tucked in or taken off. She did both. THAT’s how you do it, Big Girl! Prolific virgin Just Mike was called in for letting his leg get humped by Merlin. In a stretch of brainstorming, he was eventually named Anal Cum. Cuntratulations! After Frito Cream Pie drank an ultra-lame down down for masturbating into his wife’s bridal stocking, it was time to swing low and GTFO.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

• Want a more intimate hash experience without the rash? C’mon out for Mosquito Hash Wednesday at 6:30 at Nikki’s Irish Pub. FYI, you may get a rash anyway.

• Plenty of weeks are open, this is your chance to break your haring cherry. Shirley, you can do better than this trail.

• I’m A Big Girl Now, if the whole Peace Corps thing doesn’t work out in Tanzania, this Swahili phrase may be a lifesaver: Mapenzi pila pesa sitaki mimi! (Romance without finance, forget about it!)