Run #486 Nothing Left to Believe In

Regardless of anything else there is one sure sign that the Apocalypse approaches, hares told the truth. One of the most profoundly held tenets of hashing is that “Hares always lie.” How then are we to view Manhandler and 3 Ball J, last week’s hares, who not only told the truth but put it in writing as well? True, physically they have one foot, well actually a foot and an arm respectively, each in the grave and one on the banana peel but is that really an excuse. Our truthful twosome called the pack to heel at 21^st Ave. and Wawona on the edge of Stern Grove. There they were Manhandler with a poster child for charity limp and 3 Ball with a fractured elbow, next time he’ll be more careful and his arm won’t slip on the bar telling the pack that the trail would be short, easy, and shiggy free, who’d of thought it was true. In her never ending effort to win the Gypsy Pimp Award Beats Me supplied not one but two tasty tidbits. Just Maeve who was last a virgin at the July 4^th trail and Just Laura, go Beats Me. Having successfully avoided handling religious chores when the Gypsies had their last shot at her Just Maeve was called forth to provide the evening’s benediction. Taking the Sacred Missal in hand she administered a religious experience that melted Just Clayton like Gumby in a blast furnace and milked Udder Moron dry. While this was going on the hares were busy setting a beer check and claiming to set the trail live. Once the pack was on-on they descended quickly through the forest that makes up Stern Grove. Just Guy spent a large portion of the trail trying to catch up to his pooch Libby who was more interested in romping through sniff heaven and playing pied piper to every flea in the area. Whippet In and Whippet Out were so happy to be in their old stomping grounds that they were busy giving Tongueless whiplash as they careened through the woods. Oblivious to anyone else they charged ahead *unning between Splat’s legs they left him flat on the trail looking like road kill. It took all the control that Drill Me could muster to stop Bite Size from either eating him or rolling on him. A quickie circle jerk near Lago Puerco barely gave Likes To Lick and Open Wide a chance to achieve bliss in the bushes. Exiting the grove Just Doesn’t Get It wasn’t getting any of the beer at the beer check but was locked in mortal combat with some bees. Once more living up to his name our hero eventually held high a brew snagged from the stinging foe. Sadly his face was too swollen to be able to get the bottle between his lips. Okay all in unison let’s say his name. Leaving the beer check cum apiary the pack found itself having achieved its usual headless chicken state with bits and pieces going every which way but towards true trail. D’anglin Anglin consummate headless chicken that he is made a beeline, no pun intended, for the beach and only the temperature of the water prevented him from being seen next in Tokyo. True trail turned back toward the grove and along Crestlake. Fits In, Escrowtum, and Tongueless were accosted my whining civilian complaining about the noise but all things were righted when Escrowtum and Fits In doing a masterful job of playing bad cop and bad cop mentioned they were INS agents and asked how long since she’d left Moscow. Even short trails cum to an end and this one was no different. As the pack dragged in from various directions the focus shifted towards massive liver damage through the medium of the Sacred Bucket. Fits In, always interested in the health of her comrades, provided a vitamin C laden Bucket of Mai-Tais and it wasn’t long before the pack was feeling really healthy. As if to prove that hashing inspires family values Morning Missile and his sisters Goes Down Easy and Escrowtum were felled by the Bucket all at once. A tragedy was narrowly averted when Naked Hasher at great personal risk pushed Mossy Patch out of the way of a falling Morning Missile. The way he was shoveling in the chips and piss Manhole has apparently decided to eschew *unning and focus on his career in Sumo wrestling. From the looks of it he and Shithead have been training together. It wasn’t long before Go Nad was kissing the concrete. He owes a real debt of gratitude to Just Jen who stopped Napoleon Boner Dog from neutering him, not that, according to Just Sean, he’d have noticed the difference. Speaking of dogs Sammy and Libby put on quite a show performing more sex acts than are contained in the Sacred Missal. No Hands and Meat Pie were embarrassed but not as much as Phone Sex who was forced to admit that she was really turned on. Harder to embarrass was Pied Piper who drunkenly admitted that the pooches were having more, and better, sex than he’s had in years. Bigfoot on the other hand was quite proud to have to throw a beer over Enter The Gerbil to quiet his ardor. Glory Hole was so toasted that he tried to get Libby’s phone number but I R S had beat him to the punch. The thought of their puppies boggles the mind. Booger Hooker formerly of the OCH3 was content to lie on the ground with his eyes glazed over looking like a seedy speed bump. King Rongjon administered down-downs and inducted Just Guy into the Order of the Sleepless Knights as Fuck Me Father. Dip Shit narrowly averted beheading as the King swung the Sword Of Power in an overly zealous arc. Eventually the Shannon Arms felt the brunt of Gypsy drunkenness and contributed to its increase. Yet another evening of drink, drank, drunk. Cheers.