Courtesy of: CIA, Finger In The Dyke, and Platterpuss

Heard this one before? Texas is hot in the summer. Backyard pools can be a source of cooling comfort, especially after running a shiggified trail ‘neath an intemperate sun. Such was the promise effectively made by the hares this week. Virgins, reboots, visitors, and hounds who should have known better converged near the Ho parking lot in Memorial Park prepared for an afternoon of hashing and maybe a few rounds of Marco Polo. Chalk talk revealed a trail laid in traditional flour, as well as orange chalk, pink chalk, orange tape, yellow tape, chinese cigar wrappers, bespoke socks, and Ironman 2 dvd liners. There were so many pastel skin tones on trail, hounds might have been at a hash or Jason Collins’ engagement party. Loosed to the woods, the pack meandered through shiggy and drainage culverts leading to a long straightaway down the railroad tracks, past a bitchin’ piece of brush clearing equipment, thence across I-10. Once here, hounds ranged for minutes looking for the next dollop or tape or chevron, searching tracks and local appurtenances.

At last a concealed BN was found and soon so was the beer check. The pack then found its way through an industrial park to some funny business at the 610 frontage road. Trail was laid with remarkable sparseness, especially for a live lay. It was as if the flour store had run out of flour or something. It’s not expensive! The upside was that hounds and harriettes cooperated to solve each check, passing the Awty school into a residential area. Finally after more than 6 miles for some, the On In was spied at a house fronting Antione Street. In the backyard was the promised pool, along with a rogues’ gallery of piss beer and the finest hot dogs 88 cents can buy! The pack was surprised to find themselves so happy to be at the home of Harry Bellefonte, likely because most had no idea who he was.

CIRCLE

After everyone had rinsed themselves off before jumping in the pool (haha, yeah right!), duly erected Religious Advisor Platterpuss convened his circle. That day it was not so much a circle as it was a dry stage and a wet audience. The hot tub was like a private balcony. The garbage area was like a coat check. After all opera guests were seated, the RA got things going with Honey Babe. Naturally, the hares drank for their shitty, hard to follow, unnecessarily long trail. Virgins followed: Just Scott likes horses (whores?), Just Delmar discovered hashing from the newspaper and enjoys spooning, Just Kelly likes lions, and Just Eric can fit his entire dick inside a medicine bottle. When asked the airports question, Just Addie responded “Love Field.” Let us put a moratorium on this joke until some new funny responses can be found. Example: Tyler Texas’ Pounds Field. Moving on to reboots, too numerous to name and of poor character in any case. Special celebrations featured birthdays for Roll Model, Pimp Doggie Dog, and Just Tiffany. Grind Slut and Gig ‘Em (she now barely legal for drinking) celebrated their 24^th and 1^st hashiversaries, respectively, and Whale’s Vagina and ATV and Manwich each earned their 50 trail dog tags. Cuntratulations! With usual business complete, the accusations could begin.

Naturally, the hares drank a few times for some benign but deserved transgressions. Chopped Liver drank for fisting some dirty bitches, causing some wrist herpes. In a companion accusation, Booby Trap drank likewise for having a filthy, toxic vagina. Her protestations of innocence fell on deaf ears, as none could hear her in her bathing suit. Amateur lifeguard EZ Chair was called out for trying to clean the pool but leaving in all the riff raff. At least Harry Bellafonte has an excuse to call the pool boy now. It was certainly curious that none of the hares got in the pool. Did they know something the rest did not? While the babes were drinking, Saran Crap became wistful for his own youth, when instead he was the center of attention. He was just that for his down down song, at least. He also doesn’t know what it means to “like it in the kitchen.” Dumbass, that’s where sandwiches come from! (In one form or another). Notorious homemaker Spin Cycle didn’t even permit Horsefly Drivebi into her kitchen until after their first year of matrimony. Here’s to that first anniversary, boys! Unfortunately for Dick Assley, that trail will only be trod in his dreams. Just Roe was called out for taking a sudden swim on trail weeks prior. During the subsequent attempted naming, McPisser redirected it to Just James, and no names stuck for either of them. Your duly elected Joint Master, everyone. Democracy doesn’t work! A few accusations later, he redeemed himself to name Just Roe as Son of a Ditch. Finally, a happy ending during circle. After Scrotum Pole drank honorably for spraying the harriettes with cold water, it was time to swing low, dry off, run down a car back, and GTFO.

ON ON ON

The On On On was at Little Woodrow’s on Shepherd. Not the one in the heights. Not the Woodrow’s on Durham. Pay attention at the end of circle, or you too will miss 2 for 1 burger night!

ANNOUNCEMENTS

• If someone’s in the kitchen with Hooter, is this a DVDA situation?

• Monthly Galveston trail on Saturday

• Campbell Scramble Sunday: 85% shiggy, 100% pool!

• Mark your calendars for the August Full Moon trail on Friday August 23

THIS WEEK IN HASHTORY

• 2007 – Founding of Hindu Kush Afghanistan H3

• 2012 – Unlaiden Swallows exchanges sex for pancakes. Syrup, anyone?

• 1996 – After viewing the Bottle Deposite episode of Seinfeld, Roadkill decides to seek his fortune in crushed aluminum.