Duzzy conned Norman Bates into helping him lay trail. The first half was dead, and took the hashers South almost to Maplewood, then north along a future Metrolink route. A kind bystander had to point the way after her dogs licked up the flour.
We ran through beautiful neighborhoods, all the hashers drooling over perfect Clayton houses. Then those mean hares made us run up a parking garage, back down, and around a fancy schmancy office park (all the hashers drooling over working there) just to loop back around to a beer stop at the other end of the parking garage.
After the beer stop, the hares had 5 minutes to start dropping dots. The pack followed. The hares forced people to scale a fence onto a highway ramp, then cross traffic. Norman Bates kindly stopped to help the hashers over the fence. He waited and waited for Dicksmoker and Fartfignugen, but they zenned back to Target and so, once again, Norman Bates was both the hare and DFL.
Some hashers found an impromptu Beer Stop when they recognized the silhouette of Anthrax Tampax in a window. How conveeenient. Madame Yuck enjoyed running through high grass until it suddenly turned into pavement -- you'd think she liked rolling on pavement or something.
We all straggled back to the circle. Queen absconded to run into Target for Tampons. Postage Tramp ran the circle and made most people drink for some stuff. After many nominations, including PMS for finding a genuine blow job on trail, Madame Yuck was the unanimous choice for HashShit. Her crimes: foreshadowing her own blood on trail, being yucky, and bragging that while she often won the hashshit, she had never had to carry it on trail. Like we're going to let that one slide!