Courtesy of: Catcher In The Brown Eye and Cob Gobbler

The last trail of the year. The last chance to indulge in hedonistic habits before reverting to irreconcilable resolutions. The penultimate possibility to lay or follow a trail completely on pavement without complex checks, or even, a beer check. The hares were not going to let that chance just slip by. Cob Gobbler and Catcher In The Brown Eye cobbled together a concatenation of flour dollops that, in the end, made a fairly decent excuse to visit the famed Karbach Brewery. Veterans and virgins converged upon a wind-swept strip center on 290, and the hares were no where in sight. After all the dogs had a chance to run amok and bark aloud, chalk talk was held for the (lucky number!) 7 virgins. And just like that, the pack was off. Mommy’s Little Accident led a strong contingent of lemmings the wrong way at the first check, until true trail was found behind the storefronts.

Following flour further, the hounds made decent work of a fairly shitty trail. The path of flour was more interminable than an anecdote from Geek. At every opportunity, the hares had scoffed at laying trail into any kind of shiggy or bayou path. Some hounds were forced to make their own shiggy. Yearning for urinary relief, Can’t Hack The Sack plunged into the woods at the first opportunity to “visit her homelss boyfriend.” Sorry, Shit Dick Ass Balls. It was surprising that more of the pack did not find itself lost, considering the proximity to the Full Moon trail’s flour laid only two days prior. Another Hashmas miracle! After winding through an empty industrial complex, a BN was nearly visible in the dust beneath the 610 overpass. Running on, the On In was found on Karbach street, where the Karbach brewery is. Feel free to write your own car-back joke here: ___________________________________________________. Inside the brew house, standard hash fare was available, along with tapped-at-the-source Rodeo Clown, Yule Shoot Your Eye Out, and Weekend Warrior. 101 Donations also showed off her gigantic dog. Insider tip: yes, she has heard the horse jokes before.

After all had ample time for car-backs, and private time-wasting car backs in the case of Spot On The Mat “but I need my Wonder Woman snuggie NOW!” the circle could begin. Duly erected Religious Advisor Ramrod finally got things started with The Mayor of Bayswater. This may have been the first circle all year where hashers fought for a spot to stand IN the sun, as it was cold and getting colder, a Texan bone-chilling 48 degrees Fahrenheit. The hares drank for their shitty trail, ‘natch. Virgins featured Bubble-O, who claimed his favorite sexual position was monastery. Research indicates that a monastery is a place where male monks live who have taken a vow of celibacy. That doesn’t sound gay at all. Among the reboots was Puke, who admitted that his absence was due to guzzling jizm from the other reboots. True story, you can ask him. Visitors included Vote For Pedro, who is not shy about mentioning that he’s from NYC, and Fuck You Later. More on him later. Or right now…he celebrated his 2^nd analversary at Christmas, on the same day as Vote For Pedro‘s 28^th birthday. Then all the boring crap was over and accusations could begin.

They started lamely enough, with Loofah McConagay drinking for texting and social networking while he was sitting on the ice AND wearing the cone of shame. Reverse Cowboy finally got his hash necklace back from Ass Swipe, after holding it hostage for two years. According to the Laws of Middle School, they are engaged. Buzzkill and Spot On The Mat drank for their fancy insulated onesies. Buzzkill‘s made her look like, depending on your point of view, a penis (with pockets) or Porky Pig. Recognizing the latter, Too Drunk To Fuck did his best Elmer Fudd impression. They must get cut-rate Loony Toons in Canada (Toonie Loonies?) to confuse his classic characters like that.

Newly-minted Booby Trap drank next, for bringing a new virgin (or suitor?) to trail each week, much to the butthurt of Just Mike. Hash appropriate behavior! Shit Dick Ass Balls was accused of geeking out on trail, thinking how it was so similar to Yoshi’s Canyon on Mario Kart 64, and then completely missing an arrow. This did not stop him from helping a woman from getting her pussy off her car’s roof, though. You had your chance, Mommy’s Little Accident! Just Nicole, fearful of getting pantsed, thought it would be prudent to wear two pairs of underwear to trail. Pink hearts and blue penguins, I checked. Anyway, a naming committee was commenced to commemorate her, ahem, double bagging. The circle was flabbergasted when Paper or Plastic somehow did not stick. Sometimes, the RA just plain sucks. 

An accusation was made against Roadkill, who had mysteriously gone missing. Somehow, circle just isn’t the same without that rattliing, gravelly tenor two feet from your ear. Regardless, he expressed his impatience with circle’s earlier delay and suggested enacting some domestic terrorism upon the brewery if things didn’t get started soon, “either start circle or we’ll burn the motherfucker down!” Barreling into lame territory, SDAB drank for (and out of) his kickass illegally-imported cow’s hoof Colombian vessel. What followed may have been the lamest accusation ever made. Records are unclear as to who actually sputtered it forth, but the hares were accused of laying a trail as straight and boring as a plane’s vapor trail in the sky. Well, now that we’ve hit bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up. After Cookies & MILF drank for trying to feed the itty bitty puppy to the gigantic Great Dane, it was time to swing low and GTFO.

ON AFTER

The On After was across the street at Sundown Station. Reconnaissance indicates a 13% chance of butt chug.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

• Do you like to drink and sing but not necessarily to run? Come to the Mosquito Choir Practice on Wednesday, 7PM at Brittmoore Ice House.

• What are you doing Feb 3? Nothing? Than you can hare trail that day. Thanks, mate.

On On me droogies,
Your ‘umble narrator
WHALE’S VAGINA