Hare: PP

The pack flowed into I-45 & Spring Stuebner for what was promised to be a very shiggylicious hash, salve a taste of PP’s world famous artichoke dip, symptoms and a meet & greet with the local authorities. Success at every level! Well-travelled faces were a plenty: Louisiana, pills College Station, Fort Worth, and probably other visitors as well but I don’t know this because I did not attend circle. So if you were a visitor who cares! On On to the rest of the story.

PP did not mess with any urban. The 1^st tiny dot of flour led into the jungle. Hashers battled thorns and sticks and dirt to see tiny specs of flour on the ground in sunny & shaded spaces. Immediately trail was lost and RU?’s were shouted. In fact during this hash I thought Sticky Lips had replaced her own name with RU? as that was all that she said parrot style. CreamONMYback and Horesfly Driveby assessed the situation and said phuckit. We dashed back to the road and ran around the shiggy to find an easy dirt road to parallel the RU?s. Estrus followed behind and then a good chunk of pack did too. There was a weird pickup truck that was parked back there all by his lonesome, once we came through the truck decided to leave. Sorry to interrupt your masturbation hour! You should call Johnny Law!

Back into the jungle. Specs of white flour on the ground and not on trees. Simon says drink if you stepped on flour. (Everyone drinks). One of the coolest things of PP’s trail is that it didn’t follow convention. That would make it unconventional right? Lots of veering. Veer veer veer. One dot on the ground here and then another dot far to the left or right. Makes it difficult for lemming hashers. Split up you wankers! Upon climbing a tree over some downed barbed wire a small pack of us ran past a deer stand. We are probably on private property. Call 911! I now find myself the only alpha male in a small pack of 5 babes. I offer to pay them for some love time in exchange for flour, but if flour is a currency, then I ain’t got shit! This trail wasn’t so much of a flour trail as a bang yourself against some thorns for a couple of hours and see if you can smell the world famous artichoke dip to get you on home kind of trail. We’ve all done those right?

And to make it complete trail led us over and through some train tracks. Call the popo! Hey, where’s Estrus? Where’s McPisser? Where’s 20 other hashers? Well if the truck tugger didn’t get them, if the deer stand didn’t get them, if the train tracks didn’t get them, then was it the guy that threw them off of his land for trespassing? Should he probably call 5 cop cars? Nah.

Back in the woods Heartache started to bellyache. Call out flour damnit! Spread out damnit! And his cries were justified as only Saran Crap, Parson’s Nose, creamONMyback, Dick Assley, and that tall visitor dude would battle into the bristle as the rest of the lazy hash stood in their thorn beds until specs of flour on the ground was called out. Saran Crap paid for this by taking a thorn whack directly on his smaller head. He told me this but I did not ask to see the evidence from the perv. Yo, PP, cudos on that marsh trek! Hashers were advised to bring a double set of shoes bc their toes might get wet. And they did as we sloshed through the marsh looking for soggy pieces of toilet paper that was placed low in the cane. Hey that sounds sexy. All of the alligators decided that hasher meat is just too gamey and left us alone as we played in the still water.

Somehow we flour spec’ed it to the on in. Beer was there, dip was there, and life couldn’t get any worse. But it kinda did. Sung to the tune of 5 little Indians: 1 little cop car, 2 little cop cars, 3 little cop cars, 4 little cop cars, and 1 little constable! Send in the troops! Horsefly spoke with the authorities. Androgymouth added additional help. “These are not the hashers you are looking for.” But hash mind tricks did not work and the policemen called in to their superiors. PP spoke with the authorities. An empty keg shell in someone’s car inflamed the police further. Time marched on and hashers were not allowed to leave (Saran Crap, Hindlegs, and Dingleberry not withstanding since they snuck out through the woods) for a full hour. I feel bad for the DFL’s. After hashing through a very difficult shiggy trail they finally emerge to Spring’s finest, no beer, and no freaking dip! Also felt bad for PP since this happened on his bday hash after a fun trail.

Finally the very dangerous hashers were allowed to leave and later rendezvoused at another spot where circle was held. I hope it was a good one. OnOn to the next hash!