Hash 926 The Long and Winding Trail

Here we go again or DeJa DaLa Vu!
Cheers bitches

Cheers bitches

Well, these questions and more were answered robustly last Thursday evening.

It started innocently enough at the outdoor range bar.  A large pack showed up in force causing the mere mortal golf patrons to shake their heads in disbelief that we were actually going down into the woods….away from the alcohol on the patio and into the bowels of DeLaveaga. They have heard the rumors. They were afraid for us. They begged us not to leave the bar. But alas, Timmy and Puff spiked our drinks with the magic Kool Aid.

Things are getting pretty sloppy pretty early...

Things are getting pretty sloppy pretty early…

Cum you will not also spiked the gummi bears, which she passed out to everyone. They tasted horrible but we obediently slurped them down.  Thump Thump put away a bazillion of those colorful bears. His checks were

 bulging with all the red and green ones. Saving up for Xmas I suppose. Maybe he thought they were nuts! That and the Kool Aid made for an interesting trail.
 
It was a hot and sweaty trail with way too much humidity for this neck of the woods. Felt like we were back east in some podunk town crawling with mosquitoes and bar flies. But no, we were still in SC – surf city that is. Crawling with hobos and junkies. Passed some interesting camp sites along the route. Tried not to linger too long wiping the buckets of sweat off my head.  
You can't ride in my little red wagon

You can’t ride in my little red wagon

There was a liquor check with not one but two gruesome bottles of overly sweet wine. I am not sure that qualifies as “liquor”. Things are certainly going downhill at Surf City H3. What happened to the fireball? Or the peach schnapps or the Plum Slivovitz hailing from Eastern Europe which christened my very first hash?? 
 
Somewhere along the way things got dicey….too many checks, too much cheap wine and too many lost souls. 

CumFart Zone bailed after 2.5 miles and snagged a ride with Chewie and HangsLoose. Broke Bench followed in his pimped out ride. Occasional and Hangsloose actually bailed 2 minutes after the start upon spying a sprig of poison oak.

Lotsa pups!

Lotsa pups!

They high tailed it back to the bar. Mr Poison Oak aka Vag Repair Kit bailed before the start by staying home under the covers, far far away from the dreaded PO.  CumFart,not wanting to be made fun of anymore for getting PO in her ass crack, dressed in white plastic trash bags, affording her a false sense of security and making her look like an utter fool. She ditched them at the homeless encampment with wishful thinking that they could perhaps be used for accumulating trash…..which seems to accumulate around homeless encampments. Wishful thinking.

 
Someone's having a good time!

Someone’s having a good time!

Back on trail most of the hearty ones made it up some crazy steep hill and then proceeded to watch the sunset. One other was hopelessly lost and put out a distress call. Her valiant father, co-hare and half mind, Tiimmy, went charging after her to bring her safely home. Welding only a flashlight he succeeded in his mission to retrieve his lost daughter, the effervescent Pinky. Safely back at the Beer check the crowd cheered, then booed, because Puff forgot the vegetable platter in his frig. But he did bring some tasty shrimp, and some cold beer. So all is forgiven.

 
Apparently there was a hare snare by Junk Puncher, Dbased and Dog Breath. Something about a deer sighting or a “dear John” letter. 
 

A red wagon was found on trail and dragged back to camp by Curtesy Flush, Bakers D, Snake me anywhere. They most likely stole it from the homeless camp along with my white trash bags. Pinky pointed out that Bakers also found a rather large chalkboard during wharf to barf, and that is still occupying precious space in her van. So she is not thrilled to have yet another trail treasure take up residence in the work vehicle.

Night time antics

Night time antics

 
We had a virgin, Thaddeus, who did not get the memo that this is a RUNNING GROUP….and thus we wear RUNNING shoes….NOT sandals! We are not a Biblical reenactment group nor a Ren Faire group.  We actually run….in these things called sneakers/trail shoes/Nikes/Pumas/Reeboks/Newtons. We DO NOT run in sandals/flip flops/Tevas/Birkenstocks. Buy a fucking pair of sneakers for next weeks RUN or just stay home in your slippers and fuzzy robe.
 
And speaking of next weeks RUN/Hash…I heard a rumor that it is Hangsloose’s Birthday hosted by Dog Breath’s hash. Let them eat cake! Or kibble.
 
On On On,
CumfartZone.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply