Hash # 772

Start: Shirlington Village

Hares:$50 Bitch, Duck Job, Saddle Up, Just Scott

Down by the fetid, oily brown waters of Four Mile Run, I saw a roiling, festering mass of hashers congealed into a cankerous boil of humanity. I had heard the dolls in this group were For Sale or Rent, spreading their Eager Beaver for any old Trowser Snake, or better yet, Two Lips in the Bush. As much as I wanted to Saddle Up and hear some Whore Moans, I couldn't shoot my load, or wet my willie, or trip over another bad metaphor just yet. I had other fish to fry.

A heavy haze of carbon fumes and pollen hung overhead, giving the sluggish clot of 89 would-be runners no incentive to bust loose. But it gave me a chance to stick my beak in a few cracks and size up some of the more suspicious looking members of the group. You see, I’m a part-time private dick now, barely scratching out a living ever since that whole election screw-up. I’m always looking for dirt that I can turn into cold hard cash. From the looks of this hash group, the reward money for a missing intern and a dozen other crimes was money in the bank.

I saw Mr. Softie, Virgin with Mary, Jail House Cock and Big Bird Turd, a bunch of small time moonshiners and rump runners. I also eyeballed Have Dick Will Travel, who was leaving for Ireland shortly to sell beer insurance to the poor potato eaters in the pubs. Then there was Pulls It Out, clearly a G-man on the take. In other words, it would take him about a minute to drop trow for a Spicy Tuna Roll or a Pork and Cheese or anything that Tastes Like Turkey. 14 Karat Cock joined in, hoping they'd say hello to his little friend.

The most likely suspect had to be this guy with three or four aliases and probably twice as many priors. I’m talking about Major Disappointment/Gerbil Squeezer/Fluffy Pussy Petter. He told me he had just returned from a tour of duty in Bosnia. I quickly surmised that he was feigning a gunshot wound to the back to fish for a mercy-fuck at the hash. He also showed me a legit knife wound to the ass. More than I needed to see, big fella. It didn’t take much to guess that he asked some Muslim chicks to fellate him, but they got their brothers to filet him instead. I made a note to check out his flop-house in DC. I was sure I could "Yank Me Out" a few bloated corpses from the rotten floor boards, or roust No. 2 for maintaining an extensive kitty porn collection, and maybe drill their land-lady in the process.

Next, I cranked my head over to check out two bitches, Short Bus and $50, a couple of street hustlers who hook up with burnt-out cases like me and promise to take ‘em for a ride in the country. Next thing you know, you’ve blown 30 bucks of your thinning wad on some vacation bible camp with nothing to show for it but your soaking wet, nekkid ass up a creek and a poison ivy vine wrapped around your cock. Right away Shorty let it slip out that she had two young pussies to give away. The $50 Bitch said she had some puss at her house that I could move in on, but it looked like more scratch than a guy like me could afford. I figured the two bitches were openly peddling young snatch at the hash to guys like Daddy’s Dick, Ruined It For Dad, Leave it in Beaver and Bolo Head Rat, all of 'em too dumb to troll the Internet for tender flesh. Bullshit brushed them off. It figured. He was already dipping it in the middle school pool without riding the Short Bus.

Speaking of snatch, I got a load of the slinky, doe-eyed beauty called SnatchShot. This was one dame playing it fast and loose, probably a black widow type who lolls around the pool waiting to get her claws into some spaced-out PhDoofus. She gives him a few chuckles and then sucks him dry. This hash group was full of clueless PhDs like Big Bang and Stool Sample who fall for hot tacos like SnatchShot and then get their square roots stuck in their zippers as she takes them to the cleaners. I figured Black Box had already played out this vein, using the dumb blonde angle on a long list of hashing suckers.

I thought I was making some progress, when a smooth talker named Puts It Out took control and brought some so-called "virgins" into the circle. Never mind that the girls in this group looked like they could use trash can lids for diaphragms. The one virgin boy was a sharp looking sap with an eye for the ladies. But by the time this hash was done, FAG would have him squealing like a pig for a beer. Then a bunch of clowns called hares talked about passing bad checks and watching out for the cops.

Someone blew a whistle and the gang ran from the scene. I knew I had to keep up, but too many nights of sucking down smooth whiskey and chasing hard women had left me wheezing. I caught up to the Bad Ditch bitch and immediately sized her up as a petty con artist. She pitched me a line about losing her job in the dot com crash and claimed she finished third in her age group in the Lawyers Have a Hard-on race. She was a cool customer all right, pulling down bonus money on the job, then getting herself fired and taking the cash on the lam over to Spain.

Next, I chugged up to Meatloaf and Kumsoon and let my mind wander. I sized them up as two dames who were hot to trot. I imagined both of them in low-cut cat suits snapping their whips at me. I came too, er I mean I came back to reality when Meatloaf told me she was working a scam on the Army. She played it so she sashays her sweet meat around a campus instead of holding down a job, and Uncle Sam shells out for it all.

At some point we crossed Four Mile Run, where I saw Fucking Genius, Golden Showers, and Fuck ‘em Dan-O jump in the creek to throw the cops off the trail. These guys had all done time, so they knew how to follow the wet brown trail into a dark tunnel. We passed by the Beenie Weenie, a greasy take-out where Assfinder, EatAPuss, Beer Slut and Cliterature were hanging in the parking lot looking to suck down a weenie or roll some craps. These clowns looked to me like small time grifters with even smaller pokers, not worth my time or shoe leather, so I ran on. Leave it to a small time shyster like Mellow Foreskin Cheese or a shark like JagQueen to help them out of this jam. I overheard WOWO and Poodle Fucked talk about a dog-napping scheme that was going down, but then they got more interested in going down on Yukon Drill Me and Knee Me in the Balls.

The hare gang kept breaking my balls by leading the pack out of the woods only to go up a giant hill. This investigation was getting me nothing but stinkin' wet shoes and a case of crotch itch like Great Balls of Fire. So when we came up to a beer check, I was ready to turn in my dick license. But then this little wise guy named Duck Job let it be known that he would roll over on his boys for the price of a tit-shot or two. Like Big Pussy ratting out Tony Soprano to the Feds, Duckie cut a deal and leaked some delectable morsels. By the time we ended at the Shirlington parking deck, Duckie nailed Kenny Gee String for some primpy puss sock squeezing, and ratted out Fucking Genius for getting a mosquito bite on the tip of his penis, which doubled his dick size to boot. Then he exposed confused sex offenders FAG and Ivy Licker for switching teams and wearing "strap-ons," which could be swapped for wires. Duck Job kept on singing like Tweety Bird, telling me about Jag Queen tripping over his cement shoes, Holy Taint not being able to find the ho, EatAPuss for performing an unnatural act on trail with a self-administered enema, and Doesn’t Miss a Drop working a fashion scam at the lingerie counter of JC Penney, flashing her super-sized hooters for hot bras and panties.

Pretty soon it was time for the circle led by the phony evangelist, PIO. The Beer Bitch, Just Josh was made to bend over and wear a girly apron. He got a few pointers on pouring beer without giving head.

Then the penis gallery worked over the Virgin chicks: Morgan Hartman, Tomoko Jones, Stepahie Davis, Beth Van Einburgh, Colleen Daley, and Sharon Sharber. I knew the drill, rough stuff in the circle, soft talk in the bar, followed by soft cocks in the parking lot.

Duck Job kept singing, this time as substitute song-meister. A bunch of tarted-up babes formed a vagina gallery to humiliate the Virgin guy: Tom Cox. It was a regular clitoral choir as these angels kept harping on him to go for a romp on cloud nine. Then Duck Job and his cronies got the big payoff as the vagina gallery pulled up their shirts and threw the book at Ducky. It was the kind of book with panoramic shots of big peaks, juicy melons and creamy white desserts with cherries on top. The kind you bury your face in and don't come up for air until you're begging for mercy.

There were no Visitors from other hashing mobs, so Puts It Out called up a bunch Long Time No Seers who had been away in the pokey for a while: Chia Dick, 14 Karat Cock, Captain Titanic, Cliterature, Knee Me in the Balls, Major Disappointment, Nasty Bumpo, Pulls It Out, and Ruined It For Dad

AnalVersaries: Dangerously Close: 100 hash hits; Stool Sample: 200 hash hits. Mug Club: Eager Beaver, Fuck 'em Danno

A Solemn Occasion: In a sadistic mob ritual, a young wise guy by the name of Just Scott was turned into a made man. He had just survived haring with $50B and Short Bus so I thought "Big Pussy" would have been fitting. Others came up with no less than 18 suggestions like Pagan Pecker, Cheesy Discharge, Big Feet Little Penis, and perennial favorite Jizz Bucket. But the unruly mob gave him the moniker of The Hymenator because of the bumper crop of virgins he brings to the hash.

Hashit: Holy Tit for running 100 miles for no good reason.