WH4 Hash # 811
START: Eisenhower Metro, Alexandria, VA

I cruised into the start and shed my pants when I realized it was about 70 degrees under a blazing sun. PIO pranced into the circle to organize the final opening ceremony under the Jenocidal regime of the 2HotChix, Fiddy and Titanic. SnatchShot and Ducky and yours truly quickly assumed our positions and joined in to belt out a spastic version of Father Abe. Yes, thank God, my scribing doodies are almost over. I was still fumbling for a pencil and scraps of paper in my pants, as we loped off toward the first of many back checks. Soon my lustful gaze fell upon the delectable DaBoobs and Madam's Organ just in from EWH3. This cross-pollination of the tender young rosebuds from EWH3 ominously foreshadowed a bitter power struggle over naming rights between WH4 Mismanagement and the rogue EWH3 cultists held under the sway of HolyTit, not to mention a boatload of overblown prose from the scribe.

There were many peregrinations as we crossed parking lots and roadways, forcing traffic to a halt repeatedly. The FRBs were badly fooled, and a reverse march soon yielded flour near the Masonic Temple. I joined Duckjob, Road Whore and Hey Ho in scaling the Olympian heights of the Temple grounds. Then we found trail thru an alley and rambled by some nice neighborhoods, attracting a few curiosity seekers who were urged to follow along. BigDickNoBrains urged a lady using a walker to join him for a beer at the beer check, figuring she was too senile to resist his animalistic urges or too slow to get away. No. 2 kept his eyes firmly planted on Sloppy’s rear for clues to the bad trails. Not bad work if you can get it.

After a long while, we saw the beer truck looming in the distance, or I should say we smelled the beer check reeking from afar. I don’t mean to be litigious, but my nose and lungs are joining a class action suit against the hares for tortious olfactory interference with the right to breathe at the beer check. Shitty Shitty Bang Bang was parked next to some sort of rendering plant disguised as an animal shelter with primitive waste treatment facilities. If not for the sight of TWIG taking off her shirt, I would have left the area for treatment immediately. Just Judy was pressed into service as beer bitch and performed masterfully under these grim conditions.

I think many of us overindulged at this point to drown out the smell. At any rate, a faction of runners led by MissedErections and Fiddy sluggishly left the check and proceeded to brazenly shortcut instead of running out into traffic on Rt 1. MothersLay scouted for the northwest passage to the end of the run. We found Have Dick Will Travel’s house, which appeared to be the end, but the Hares had planted a false on in and we kept going past the Metro and into a nice vacant lot. No. 2 and I promptly became shrubbery FRBs as we became the first to irrigate the one available bush.

As the circle opened, PIO had a difficult time encouraging compliance with his preaching. This signaled to me that the old hashing evangelist was losing his ability to move the flock at the end of his term as Religious Advisor. He was clucking like an old hen and no one paid attention until he began singing a lilting hymn, a siren song to lure the hares into the circle to take punishment for their horrible violations:

And on it went thru every verse…

All the hares were mesmerized by these incantations from the wizened old hash wizard. One by one they obediently stepped forward to receive their down-downs from PIO like turkeys heading for the chopping block.

The festivities continued, with justice meted out for many more violations. Most notably, Spank Me was called in for allowing her virgin to cum wearing new shoes. She was too wimpy to drink the beer from the shoe, so the scribe administered the alternate punishment she so craves, a resounding swat to her firm rear.

Fuzzy Warm and Sticky was called out for butt twitching provocations, Snatchshot for being a choking Steelers fan, Missing Rubber for getting his ass handed to him in a fight with an old lady and dog, Turkey Timer for breaking her engagement ring and being reduced to a Xerox jockey at work, $50 for attempted auto-engagement, Assfinder for being a cuticle slut, Cyclops for allegedly knocking up Latin Analyst, Fuck’em Danno for whining about the trail while shortcutting, and Duckie and FingerPickinGood for giving blood jobs.

Blonde Roots 69 Runs

Missing Rubber 25 Runs

Bad Bush

Prison Prom Queen

SpankMe

Blows Like A Hurricane

Battery Operated Buddy

Tez’s Smirmnoff Smirk

Backsnatch

Sticky Thottle

All in the Family

SloppyHo

Have Dick Will Travel

Hawaiian Puke

Ricardo(Shank and Wank) I’ll show you my wet spot

Kim (HDWT) Do me doggy style

Matt (Fuck’em Danno) I could do you like a bulldog

Rizzo (Spank Me) I’ll steam your windows

Robyn (Spank Me) Mount my Zamboni

Cunning Linguist - Canberra

Ooops – Korea

Jane – Tirana

Shake Johnny – Tirana

Next the hash took up the challenge of naming Just Lauren. Her lack of a proper name has defied all

expectorations since she has misbehaved from day one. As you’ll recall just Lauren came to us from Oregon, the Beaver State, where she was a kindergarten teacher. Lauren has big brown eyes and long dark hair, she likes long walks on the beach, latin dance moves, is a brainiac, drives a Vulva, is often found brushing dog hair off of her clothes, and has an easy way with the boys. She moved in with FAG, who then through her out of his basement to make room for his Mom. She went straight into the clutches of PoodleFucker as his live-in dog sitter. She began working for AID as a contraceptive researcher. WH4 attempted to name her at the Oxon Hill hash with WOWO suggesting Kindergarten Kunt. However, the Grand Mattresses vetoed it. Then EWH had the temerity to try to name her using their hash name generator. The name of Fucking Fucking Slut was achieved thru artificial denomination and therefore was ruled null and void by the International Court of Hash Injustice. EWH3 protested fiercely by drinking a lot of beer and yelling.

BigDickNoBrains stepped forward to allege that he dated Lauren and that she is really into butt love. Mr. Zero Credibility was shouted down, though we did check out her butt. WDFK shouted brown-eyed girl, and there several condom suggestions like resevoir tit, condomnation, rubber meats the road, meat my mamba, beaver control officer, and ribbed for everyone’s pleasure. The beaver theme led to beaver tail, busy beaver, beaver dam, And finally we had a hard fought battle between Brown Eyed Girl and Oregon Grinder. For now and evermore she is Oregon Grinder.

Next it was Big Dave’s turn to get wet. Just Dave is a rugby player with a little extra heft to him. He heard about the hash and thought it would be a good place to find rugby recruits. He used to be a llama farmer, which just doesn’t sound credible but the boy has lost some weight recently and may be hysterical. Well anyway, lots of people focussed on his manly gut, which he bared proudly. This led to Pillsbury Ho Boy, a scribe and crowd fave, and Body by Bud. Mud Button and Little Dipper stemmed from alleged inadequacies below the belt. It came down to a run-off between In Seach of Men and Pillsbury Ho Boy. After an extended scrum, the mob thought the hilarious image of looking for a few good hard men at the hash was too good to resist. So Just Dave is In Seach of Men for now and evermore in the world of hashing.

Fiddy was holding the hashit for abusing DuckJob, that is by letting his balls sag below the Mendoza line from lack of stimulation, failure to scatch the itch, loss of society, iron poor humjobs, a downturn in Enron stock, or some such shit. Anyway HolyTit, a long distance whiner, and the Hares, for locating the Beer Truck near the hideous stank were the other prime candidates. And then Spinal Tap accused MothersLay of a genuinely nasty offense, at which time I must have been getting a beer because I got nuthin on him. Well, he’s always racing in his fancy outfits, showing up us fat white boys with his speedy runnin’ and smarty pants ‘tude, and he’s probably bonin’ all the hash bitches with his smooth ways and faux British accent, and besides, all his suggested names have been really lame lately, so I guess that’s enough to convict any man. Sling that plunger over your back, MothersLay.

In this my last trash of the year, I want to thank all my hashing buddies who indulged me and Duckie by submitting to weekly ridicule and humiliation. You know who you are, Happy Trails...Mitey Tite

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