The hares couldn't even find the beginning of their own trail. They were all confused and trying to chalk-talk in the completely wrong section of the sixteen-acre parking lot down in Town and Country. The rest of us had the beer, though, and the hash cash so we were all official and ready to wait them out. Sure enough, they gave up and came over to the back of the lot to join the real chalk-talk circle soon enough. Elbow was excited to find "good beer" (Bud Select). Leather Balls appeared, dogless and extra hairy. Cum it Out wouldn't let me gnaw on his chest hair. There were dozens of justs and half a dozen virgins to harass before chalk talk. Then there were all these letters on the ground, and ketchup. Strange letter combinations such as CE, BVFC, FML, and SXA. With repeated prompting, Shot by a Whore made up something about each of these. He also displayed a container of pudding shots -- eleven pudding shots.
The hares left, the virgins announced their names, everybody groped, people complained that the sweat was already soaking their shirts and it was too early to get naked. We all looked forward to the Clothing Exchange check. Trail started with a couple fucking check-backs immediately. Garage accused the hares of bad form of having a harrow that didn't technically point toward true trail, and we had to get out the 147-page rulebook on haring etiquette. Disco Ass found Holateral's lost hubcap on trail, but he put it back down so I had to carry it the whole way. Fart made me try to slide down the hill on it, but it wouldn't go. It did put a nice circle of grease on my shorts, which looked great on Jort Daniels.
The pudding shot stop sucked because all the pudding was gone by the time our Lazy group found it. I sucked on one of the mostly-empty cups, then jumped over a creek into two feet of squishy mud. Best part of trail! Lazy and his pushers expressed dismay at the end of trail and turned around to go find a bar.
Mudpacker took the wrong route around a fence and covered his shorts with sticky burrs, and his socks with hangers-on of grass. There was a circle jerk through one apartment complex and then the welcome BN pointing to another. The B wasn't as N as we hoped - the wanking hares put a check between the BN and the BS. They made up for it with twinkie shots at the BS. Those were great! I did suck the last of the cream out of my wrapper, and the last bite tasted great. Don't listen to Gladheateher. Also featured at the beer stop were couches, mattresses, and a view of What the Fuck Is Your Name and me bathing in the lake. Popeye's Other Bitch was dragged around to document all this.
After the beer stop trail went through a cave, a creek, over a mountain, through the jungle, and finally across the sixteen-hundred-acre parking lot back to the cars. there was a CE in there somewhere and I got me some jorts.
Gladheateher couldn't remember how to run a circle so none of the virgins flashed more than ass, and nobody got the hashshit. Leather Balls got his 69 run band - how many years did it take him to learn how to do that? oh! and there were pudding shots in circle! Yum. many hashers dribbled chocolate pudding down their fronts. It blends nicely with the grease and the mud. Holateral left early, crummy hare, before he could even drink for his lost hubcap. Burning Asshole called himself into circle for being thirsty. Cranium Gear received a special exemption, but most hashers were unable to down-down while wearing it - it just feels wrong!
The on-after was rather organized, with seats and menus. Leather Balls sang some good songs but didn't suck any toes. Kudos to Just Denzel for a joke that was actually funny. You can come back. Town and Country surprised us by not interrupting our circle. Thanks guys, we'll be back.