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Saturday 03/12/2016 #1314

Donkey Style & Three Inch King @ ???

Hash Trash:

On a rainy Saturday afternoon a group of half minds gathered in park deep in South St. Louis. The rain

drizzled down upon them for 20 minutes before one of them, quite possibly our “lame duck” GM,

suggested we circle underneath the picnic shelter.  The phrase “DUH” could be heard uttered from

those who had already soaked up the afternoon’s precipitation.  The beer coolers were moved first and

the pack followed.

Once under the shelter and we were ready to start the circle except the hares were MIA.  This evidently

made Ice Princess mad as she threw her perfectly good beer on the ground.  OK maybe it slipped out of

her hand but waste of good Natty Light anyway.  After a few more beers and telling of jokes, the hares,

Lock Nut and Donkey, arrived looking like wet dogs. Evidently their delay was Headlights fault.  She

either forgot to pick them up at some undisclosed part of trail or she did so on purpose.  You decide.  

Now that all were gathered, Disco swiftly called for us to circle.  Our guest from Colorado was

introduced and the hares gave us messy but informative chalk talk with some verbal warnings about

swimming on trail and homeless encampments.   And what do you know, the hares still needed a 15 minute

head start.

Soon enough the pack was away. Since the scribe had the plague it was decided he’d drive the beer to

the Beer Stop.  Thus the scribe has no idea how shitty the trail was.  There was supposedly a shot stop

which most missed and a place where the pack could meet the indigenous people of the Mississippi

River bank. 

The beer did make it to some distant parking lot of some giant ass casino but this was not to be the Beer

Stop. Soon the hares emerged from the nearby woods, grabbed the cooler from the trunk and carried it

back into the woods.  For the Beer Stop, the hares chose a spot overlooking the confluence of the River

des Peres and the Mighty Mississippi.  To call this a scenic vista would be grossly overstating it nature.

The view was of rusted out barges and the ass end of the River des Sludge. However it was the best

vantage point to witness those who attempted the most epic of Eagle trails.

As the FRB’s approached a clearly marked “BN” on the far bank of the River des Poo, they quickly

realized the beer stop was only 100 yards away on the opposite bank.  A swim was necessary unless you

wanted to run another ½ mile for beer.  AH FUCK! shouted PastHer. Then he said something like “I’m

gonna do this”, followed by a splash and a scream. Very quickly he stated, “This is a BAD idea” and made

his way back to shore.  However, the bank was steep and he wasn’t able to get out of the water.  It was

Greg Loose Anus to the rescue. And for his efforts he was just inches from going in.

Soon the FRB’s were back on the Turkey trail with the other non-swimmers.   By this time, Claim and

Disco had made it to crossing point of the River des Stink. Being seasoned hasher they made the

decision to tempt cholera and take the short cut across the river.  All were relieved when they didn’t

drown and crawled up on shore.  Beers were drank and a few slugs of whiskey were taken to kill the

germs. Beaver Chaser, Ovary Punch and Oh, She Has A Dick determined that Rolling Rock was skunked

and was OK to throw out.

After a while we made our way back to the comfort of our dry picnic shelter and circle commenced

quickly thereafter.  Our guest from Colorado decided to show us her twin peaks instead of singing a song

or telling a joke.  Pints of lager were given to Claim and Disco for forging the river and to Loose Anus for

saving PasteHer. Ice Princess and Fake Bake both got pretty, yellow Super Hare shirts for haring 25

times. Just Faith was called into circle and questioned in hopes we could find a suitable hash name for

her.  It didn’t happen so Just Faith needs to try harder.   Hash Shit was awarded to Ice Princess for

throwing her beer on the ground earlier and then avoiding to show he white panties when the RA did a

panty check. She and Fake Bake chugged an oil can of Fosters (Australian for Beer) because we had no

vessel for hash shit.  Swing Low was sung then off we went to the on-after. All was good with the world.



Big Hump Hash House Harriers - St. Louis, Missouri - Established 1999