Second Cape Cod Hash House Harriers Hash
Start: and finish: dirt trail off Phinney's Lane near Sears in Hyannis
Beer Checks: by a pond and by another pond
On In: Mother Shucker's house in Cummaquid
Hares: Mother Shucker, Cream Whora, Oozing Syphilitic Dictaphone, Trail Hoover
Time: 5 p.m. HST
Total Distance: 3 or so miles
Scribe: Cums Alone
Weather: around 75 degrees, sunny day
Hashers Present: Trail Hoover (hare), Oozing Syphilitic Dictaphone (hare), Cream Whora (hare), Anal Avenger, Just Aaron, Cod the Animal, Cums Alone (me, BH3 scribe), EverReady, Friar F*ck (and Sh*tty Trail), Just Jared, Just Josh, Kneeling Room Only, Just Max, Rectal, Just Rob, Stuff Me, Just Valerie, plus a couple of others who I may have missed (including the 2 guys who did the trail and drove off before the on-in)
Virgins: Berni, Steve, Leonard (I think)
Backslider returned: Mutton Drapes
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The big news is that Mutton Drapes, Cream Whora's main squeeze, has been returned by the hashnapper. She was there at the start of the run. Although I must report that she has been surgically altered with the addition of a pouch that is designed to increase Cream Whora's pleasure. It doesn't appear to have altered her personality however. It's great to have her back at the hash.
We gathered next to the truck full of beer and warmed up for the run. It had been overcast, but the clouds parted prior to the start of the run. Trail would have a turkey/eagle split after the first beer check, 3 marks would be on, and there would be check backs.
We ran a long way down a trail, and sure enough found the check back. We went almost back to A, and then took a side trail over to a pond. True trail was a circle jerk around the pond. At the far side of the pond, an overweight couple, who were very attached to the ducks on the pond, confronted us. They said we were on their property (probably not, since the pond was down, and we were below the normal shoreline, but who wants to argue with angry people), and that the ducks were nesting (actually the ducklings appeared to have hatched, but again ... who wants to argue). We did have a couple of unleashed dogs running around. We didn't tell them who was in charge of our group, since of course no one was.
We ran almost back to A and then over land to another pond for the first beer check beside the pond. Beer had been brought to the beach in a canoe, but they had either drunk some of the beer first or miscounted. By the time Rectal arrived there was maybe one beer left. We decided it was on to the second beer check. The eagles got a longer trail. Turkeys kept to the shore of the pond directly to the second beer check, which was on the other side of the same pond. The hares had wisely added to the beer collection in the cooler, so the pack was happy.
From the second beer check trail went directly back to A. We then drove to the on-in, which was at Mother Shucker's place, a couple of miles down the road. We drank some Sam Adams plus plenty more Rolling Rock.
The on in: Anal Avenger was acting RA for C2H3 hash. Comments included: "Awesome", "Not enough industrial slums", "not enough flamingos" (two were suggestively posed on the back lawn), "Liked the homeless guy in the tent", "Not a death march", "nice and short", "not enough canoes", "pond owners vicariously living through ducks". The hares did their down down and sang "Frigin' in the Riggin' ".
Virgins: Anal Avenger was the dementor for the virgins. Steve said that Just Jared made him cum. Berni said that Just Rob made her cum, but she doesn't know the square root of 69. Leonard said that no one made him cum, but he does like it doggie style. They did their down down and are virgins no more.
Naming: Just Jared was named. As he is the C2H3 webmeister, he needed a name. He was not named Spam Bam Thank You Man, I'll Eat Anything, or Corn Holer. He received the name Little Neck ... thus is he to be known.
We may have spontaneously named Mother Shucker's dog, Sydney ... Possibly Anal Twitch? As the visitors outnumbered the Cape Cod Hashers, they were invited into the circle for a down down.
Erections: The following were anointed as mismanagement of the C2H3 Hash: Mother Shucker, GM (he obtained more votes than Sydney, the dog and the dominant and passive flamingos on the lawn) Cod the Animal, RA/Voice of the Hash (ditto for more votes than for the dog and flamingos) And of course Little Neck is already the webmeister. The hash cash position remains open (that and dementoress), as Just Max (an economist) did not jump at the chance to buy his own Beemer with hash cash (Rectal had advised that that was one of the advantages of the position). Max's quote was something to the effect of Bite Me.
Accusations: We did swing low and ate fantastic steamers and chili, and oysters on the half shell (note to hashers who did not make the trip ... the food was worth it alone ... best clams and oysters I have ever had). And, again, it was washed down with Rolling Rock beer.
Quotes: "I didn't think about it when I put it there. Don't ever say I'd know if I put it up my *ss." - either Anal Avenger or Cream Whora
New song to Mutton Drapes: (to the tune of Row Row Row Your Boat, sung as a round):
"Stroke Stroke Stroke Your Sheep
While You're on Cape Cod
Slam it in to her *ss
Til you blow your wad."
--- Cums Alone, your humble scribe