Dewey Sexual System & HammerTongue @ ???
Hash Trash: I knew it was going to be a fun night as I'm driving through U. City, hopped up on Exedrin Migraine, listsening to some Nelly.
I show up, relatively early (on-time), and Lock Nut Monster comes over as sincere as he could be, tells me he's taking the hash cash tonight. I laughed in his face and nervously looked around for Sexorcist or the Crab Shacker . . . nope . . . no one else around. So I give him my ten spot, and he takes a ten from somebody else and walks away! Turkey. Big fat liar. Turns out he was just collecting money so he could fill his perscription for his anti-fungal cream.
The rest of the crew shows up, and we got started after we got tired of Whiney Bitch bitching about getting started.
Now is a good time to mention that I noticed that PMS had some goofy silk purple henkie around her big hoodie and bum-coat, but I wasn't going to ask questions about it. Who ever knows why she does what she does. It's also worth noting that Sexorcist looked like "Shoot-to-kill Gumby" with his big camo ski pants on. I couldn't even see him from the waist down.
Dewey gave some pathetic chalk-talk, and virgin-hare-even-after-like-two-years-of-hashing Hammertongue drank a beer and let her do all the work. They neglected to tell us how much time they needed, so in the nice balmy weather with the gentle breeze, we thought 2 minutes would be sufficient.
ON-out! I was the FRB for about a foot, and the pack lapped me and we ran around shouting RU? and ON-ON! like good hashers do. Next stop, Hash Halt! Wait for a minute, rub out the marks and keep going! We're getting thirsty, but at least the spring-like temps kept our spirits up.
All of a sudden, the previously well-marked trail falls all apart. Everyone was lost and confused, and what do I see? Gimpy PMS with a broken meta arsehole standing on the corner in her bum-coat chatting on her cell phizzle. Weird. She's supposed to be auto hashing with Sexorcist and Puss-N-Boobs. And she has a broken foot. Why is she walking trail? I know! Let's follow her!
Next thing I know, we're drinking slightly better beer than normal! And beer-stopping like we've never beer-stopped before! Only to notice that Dewey and Hammertongue are hanging out at his place just across the field . . . Trail's been hijacked! So, good thing Sexorcist wore his camo. And PMS wore her granny-bandit-bandana.
So we discussed the loony eclipse, and made sure to not look directly at Gladdy's full moon, and got to Hammertongue's place for the "official" beer stop.
Time for a naming! We got so much good dish from Just Nick. And I had what seemed to be a bottomless can of Stag. Some great name options were thrown out, but alas, we still are not harboring a "Goat Fucker." I suppose Nick is a Boat Owner Fucker, but that wouldn't have lasted. Because he's a lawyer (note to self . . .) (habeaus corpus), and DID IT on John Paul Jone's crypt (Led Zepplin), he's been reborn into hashing as Labius CorpseSex! Fun.
We get back to the on-in and drink and sing. SO-SO performed an Eiffel Tower. Several hashshit nominations, and with great pride, I'm happy to report that after 6 years of hashing, Lock-Nut has WON his first hashshit! Poor chump didn't even get to drink out of a plunger!
Now that I think about it, that was a pretty shitty trail.
Do My Butt