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Saturday 12/13/2008 #751

Help Me I'm Wet, Just Aaron & Just Chuck @ Pere Marquette "Burning Hare"

Hash Trash:

'Twas the night of Pere Marquette, when all through Chautauqua
Not a creature was stirring, well  - Just Chuck and Abby (they needed some alone time)
The fire was stoked on the patio with care,
In hopes that racist hasher's soon would be there;
The beer was nestled all snug in the cooler
While visions of us drunk and jumping naked over a firepit danced through their craniums;
And P*ssy Fart in her running shoes and Stinky in his Santa boxer's,
Well we all set off for a hilly run on a shitty shiggy trail,
When out on the trail there arose such a clatter,
"Certain death" is what he cried, Whiney's freakin' scared of heights,
Away to the bluff we all took our time,
Tore open a beer and sat on a cliff.
The beautiful view above the Mississippi River
Gave lust (to Celery) of mid-day snuggling in the grass,
When, what do our wondering eyes should appear,
But a couple of hares, and a cooler full of beer,
With two hares and one harriet, so lively and quick,
I knew it a moment it must be Just Chuck, Just Aaron, and Help Me I'm Wet.
More rapid than eagles their hounds they came (I said came),
And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Burning Asshole, Pulls Out Early, Just Sara, and Whiney!
On, Lock Nut MonsterHo Hum, Prancer (that's Ricky), and Disco Ass!
To the bottom of the hills!  To the top of the bluff!
Now run away!  Run away!  Get drunk but don't trip!"
As the virgins, Just Shane, Just Kristin, Just Abby bestow us with their lively jokes (did they  - I don't remember),
Just Aaron explains if they meet with a chick check, show the mounds of pleasure,
So up to the cabin-patio the runners they ran,
With crampy legs, cold noses, and tummy's full of beer, too.
And, then, in a twinkling, I heard from the house
The sounds of 80's tunes lofting about.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Across the friggin' fire pit, naked Stinky came with a bound.
He was dressed in nothing, from his head to his foot,
And, his balls were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
In an square inch of landing space -  a good spot he found,
The burning hare  - he sat there and took it all in,
His eyes -- how they judged us! his dimples how spry!
His fur was so soft,  his face was agrin!
He was put in the fire and we all watched him die,
And, the smell of his fur was as rank as his judgement;
The fur burned away from his eyeballs with ease,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
Someone had an idea - let's all get naked and run,
Stinky set out a trail and his nude houds a followed.
We were jolly and cold and gave quite a show.
Half the wankers went inside to enjoy some dancing;
The other half sat by the fire and did I don't know what,
Just dad had given his blessing on the dabauchery and we knew we had nothing to dread:
He spoke not a word, but just shook his cranium,
And filled all the evening with an extra beer stop and Jager,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He sprang to his own cabin, to his new friends gave a whistle,
And there were all lay around like a bunch of drunks.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Ef all of you wank hasher's, get out of my sight."      
Gratefully submitted,
Full Service Ass Station

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