|
Jolly Roger H3 of the Tampa Bay Metro Area Pirate Invasion of Treasure Coast Hash Run #396 Saturday, July 12th, 2008 |
|
Beaver…you fuck,
We’re all in a rut,
Ever since the day you left us
But its not you we miss
We want a Whore Moans kiss
Then we’ll go back to where you left us
Jolly Roger is road whoring
No Way! It’s not boring
We’ve come to invade your hash
Its Pirates, we are
But we came here by car
And we’ll plunder all of your stash
Harelip Dogg
Hash Trash
“It was a dark and stormy
night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it
was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets, rattling
along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps
that struggled against the darkness.” -Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Okay, same shit except for the night-part. As the afternoon passed, there
sat eight of us wanks praying to the Sun Gods and drinking beer at Leave It
In Beaver and Whoremoans’ crib. Nothing beats pre-lubing for five hours
prior to the ho-down! We kept ourselves somewhat busy; we moved furniture,
teased the baby leopard until it hacked away at the inside of Wanna Earn and
A’s thighs, and we let the Abyssinian pussy out for the alligators, at
Whoremoans’ request. When it was time to HEAD to start, the weaker wanks
donned rain gear (Wanna Earn An A, Fart, Whoremoans and GRC), and the
stronger ones stripped from wearing all clothes, to save them for later
since us pirates only have one set of clothes (Dab,Leave It In Beaver,
Harelip Dogg and myself, Casual Friday).
We arrived at the crack park, I mean the start location, and commenced
pre-lube #2. The rain let up as the Treasure Coast wankers started to
arrive. We wondered if our threat of a take-over scared them all away, but
much to our delight we ended up with a battle! Can You Not Talk and Pussy
For Less (and what a deal she gave!) showed up from the Orlando hash; I
wasn’t sure which side they were on for the invasion. Another wheeled vessel
arrived with two wenches from the Treasure Coast; Mama and Mustache Rider.
They were both dressed in pirate gear, looking a bit intimidating. The
Treasure Coast’s token tall wank was Goes Both Ways…Harelip had his match!
The beautiful Just Shelly brought her gorgeous friend, Virgin Meagan. Just
Shelly would be drinking as she did not explain anything about what a hash
is to her virgin. Kudos to Virgin Meagan for blindly following her friend
with allegiance. AOL from Palm Beach pulled the same stunt with his virgin,
Virginia (won’t she get a stellar name eventually!). Oh yeah, he was
drinking at circle, too. Megatron Bonaparte and his boy Just Jonathon
arrived with the treasure box. Just Jonathon at eleven years old proved to
be their strongest link. Whoreshack and Kinderball Digger also showed up for
the invasion. Got MILF joined Beaver and Whoremoans to lay trail the second
time, as the first pre-lay was washed away by the ten-hour-long monsoon we
had earlier in the day. GRC opted-out of helping for the second time with
the flour and took control of the B-van; a strategic move if I’ve ever seen
one!
As us Pirates of the Cari-beer-run had pre-lubed all day while teasing
pussies, the chronological order of events have escaped me, as usual. I do
remember just prior to on-out, I was in luck when I eyeballed a women’s
restroom at the crack park. I ran for a quick pit stop and was somewhat
surprised by the sign posted on the restroom door, “Under camera
surveillance and security checks.” Okay, I’ve been under camera surveillance
and security checks before; that’s how I got my hash name and my 15 seconds
of fame on youtube. So I went in.
On trail, there were many opportunities to express ourselves as trains
crossed and paralleled our trail (see Dab’s photos) and we crossed over a
draw bridge a few times and woke up the drawbridge master. One poor catfish
stuck on the draw bridge got an instant naming, SLF (smells like fish) and
was honored on trail (see Dab’s photos). There were also quite a few local
fishermen who now know exactly what “A-cup twangers” look like. They didn’t
speak much English but sure knew how to smile and give a thumb’s up!
After running through some very impressive row houses, Just Jonathon was
gaining on Wanna Earn An A and me. Wanna voiced her concern over not
allowing him to beat our stride and Jonathan uttered something about us
being “…old and slow” while passing our arses. Wanna let him know that he
should slow down so she could kick his ass, and his response was “Game on!”
Wanna had previously mentioned something about her being able to run better
with a blown-out sandal, but I digress.
While the terrain was beautifully green and the boardwalks were quite
impressive, there was also the bridge from hell. Of course Harelip ran the
bridge four times back and forth as he felt he needed the extra mileage
(show off) and Wanna took the 50-mile bridge challenge because the little
wanking bastard pissed her off earlier. I on the other hand, was lucky
enough to be running with a few local hashers, and got the inside scoop. We
had the opportunity to run the bridge from hell, or to short-cut beneath the
bridge and cross the river via the draw bridge to end at the same area;
thank God that area was a beer check! There were three beer checks in all,
thank goodness, as the trail seemed to be 100 miles long. I think all the
runners sweated out 10 pounds of salt and body fluid by circle.
Another beer check chalk mark was graced with Crabby, the chain-smoking crab
(see Dab’s photos). He gave the wankers a head’s up that beer was near as
well as a chance to light up. After Wanna Earn An A and I played “toss the
crab”, all wanks steered clear of us as our hands smelled like decaying
moose vomit. At the beer stop, all we had was water to rinse, and GRC poured
scotch on our hands. It was supposed to kill something, but I think between
the scotch and the smell of death on our hands, it only killed our sense of
smell.
After Harelip dipped in a fountain of youth, he and I crossed some train
tracks and laughed as the crossing arms had closed down on the rest of the
wankers behind us. I heard some shouting as Wanna Earn An A bounded across
the tracks, bobbing and weaving the lowered arms that are supposed to alert
you that a train is about to smash your wanking ass. You go girl! Harelip
got his due, as later on he was hopelessly stuck behind two very long trains
while the rest of us were headed towards beer. He must have really wanted to
get to a beer stop as he had classically blown through a ladies check. Wanna
was about to do something with her hand (my memory was fogged due to
drinking the nectar of the Gods) and her classic line was, “Oh! Not that
hand, I know where it’s been!” I wonder if she was talking about the dead
crab smell, or if something else had happened on trail behind some shiggy.
At Circle, Just Jonathan had come in DFL, due to some classic crotch rot he
picked up from being a star footballer. Wanna stuck her nasty smelling hand
in his face and asked if he ever heard the story of the turtle and the hare.
Just Shelly and Virgin Meagan got to circle with wet jeans, as they also hit
a fountain of youth. Funny, it worked better for them than it did Harelip.
After Just Jonathan had a pint of logger and let our RA know that he forgot
to have the virgins entertain us, Treasure Coast ’s GM, Megatron Bonaparte
was floured by our own GRC. As she took it easy on him with the flour, he
complained that we didn’t know how to properly flour a GM. Just Shelly took
the bag and quickly dumped the remains of the flour directly on top of his
head without blinking. I’d say we KNEW how to properly flour--by allowing
his own people to turn on him!
Now that’s an invasion!
On-On!
Casual Friday
Jolly Roger H3
What:
Where:
When:
Hares:
Cost:
On After:
Hash Hotel:
RSVP:
Phone Number: