TH3: The best reason to call in sick on Fridays

LTA’s Drunk Recollections


Thirstday H3 #429
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: The Atlantic
Hares:  EZ On The Ass

Celebrating hasher Sphincter Grease’s triumphant return from an overseas military assignment, EZ on the Ass teamed up with Madison’s Return to Gender to create a weekend hashtravaganza event called ‘Return to EZ On The Sphincter Grease’. A collaboration between Chicago/Waukesha/Madison hashes, this event was kicked off at a Thirstday hared by EZ out of the Atlantic. It turned out quite a showing as well, by Wisconsin visitors and Chicago hashers alike. The attendance list included Two Hairnets, HornE,  Little Trojan Annie, Just Mike, The Dark Kunt, WJew-40, Bubbles, Poultry Fucker, O’Shitty Runch, Silent but Deadly, Just Lily, Eaten Alive, Dickslicksya, Whoreo, Dick in a Box, Hoosier Daddy, Gloryhole, Bubbles the Sad Bear Clown, Drill in my Box, Pecker Mache, Just Vincenzo, Happy Ass Grabber, Chip ‘N’ Dale, Glitter Spitter, Fistful of Pricks, Bang Me Blow Me Get Me Off, Gingersnatch, and String Theory.

This was generally a feel-good hash, so I think I’m just going to play nice and congratulate people on their fuckery:

–          EZ, known champion and advocate to all DFLs everywhere, actually set a decent trail. Good job, EZ.

–          Furry Spice then hijacked said trail, about a block in, with a virgin. He supplied more beer. Good job Furry and Just Nicole.

–          BarfFly couldn’t make the hash, but somehow made it to the hijacked beer stop. Confusing, but good job BarfFly.

–          Someone (a Wisconsinite, I believe) passed around a hydration pack full of yummy-tasting shots at the beer stops. Good job, random hasher.

–          Nobody got lost or died on trail. Always a good thing. Good job, everyone.

–          The Dark Kunt ran such a good circle that everyone drank all the hash cash and had to pass around the hat a few times by the halfway mark. Good job, TDK.

–          I think it bears repeating: everyone drank through all the hash cash by the halfway point of circle. Good job, all you crazy alcoholic wankers.

–          The Cock Whisperer came straight from the airport after her business trip in time to partake in circle. Now that’s dedication; good job, Cock.

–          Several people showed body parts, and Eaten Alive definitely had a thing for biting off the candies on TDK’s candy G-string. Good job, Eaten Alive, and kudos to all the butts and boobies in circle.

I’m glad to know we all made Sphincter Grease’s homecoming enjoyable and welcoming.

Now can we go back to being depraved, irrational individuals please? This nice shit is boring.



Thirstday H3 #428, 430, 431, 432, 434
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Multiple
Hares:  Many

As much as I love hashing, I’m just going to put this out there: sometimes I can’t make a hash. Sometimes real life gets in the way and I miss five hashes, almost in a row. That’s over a month of missed opportunities of drunken debauchery and liver abuse.

 But you know what? That’s ok. Because our relationship is special. The hash and I, we have an understanding that no one outside the hash could possibly begin to comprehend. The hash abuses me, but it’s for my own good. It’s abuse born out of love. Love for cheap beer that tastes like piss, bloody appendages and bruised egos, and the company of depraved individuals. The hash will beat me down until I think I deserve better, that I’m independent and can start a new life, and I do. I get out and start over. And it works for a while, and I think I’m happy and moving on, healing and growing into the mature adult I know I can be. But then the hash begs me to come back, that it will be different this time, that the abuse will stop and I will get the love and respect I deserve in a nurturing relationship. So I come back, full of love and energy and high hopes for the future, only to have the hash bitch-slap me the second I walk in the door, screaming at me to get my pansy-ass back in the kitchen to get it a beer and make it a sandwich. And as the slap shots, insults, and PBR come raining down on me harder than Four Score’s boner as he takes it in the ass from one of his “strippers,” inwardly I know: I’m home. And I’ll always come back for more.

 But I digress.

 Even though I was not present at these hashes, I can tell you exactly what happened, because of the bond forged between the hash and me which transcends all plains of existence, known and unknown.

 First, let us give credit where credit is due.

 Hash #428, the Groundhog Tutu hash, was hared out of Rebel’s Bar by Hood Whorenament and GloryHole. #430 was out of Streeter’s Tavern hared by Furry Spice and BarfFly, while PlatyPussy and Chip ‘N’ Dale took over #431 at Burton Place. Hoosier Daddy and Mount Schwiiinga both acted alone to lay trails for #432 out of Oasis and #434 out of Tai’s Til 4, respectively.

 As for things that happened on trails and various circles, this conglomerate of events are in no particular order, and can be applied to one or all of these hashes:

 Half-naked hashers in tutus froze their genitals off in the Chicago winter. Trails were poorly marked, or not at all. The pack stood around on endless street corners for checks, letting the FRBs do all the work to find trail, who, upon finding trail, did not go back to inform the rest of the pack they were on-on. DFLs then decided they did not give one fuck and proceeded to wang trail, drinking out of WJew-40’s flask along the way. Multiple times String Theory said something “witty” and everyone pretended to laugh while secretly wishing they could stab him in the throat. Conversely, The Least Interesting Man in the World told such a “riveting” story that two virgins, not knowing any better, died of boredom after listening to it. Surprisingly, the pack did not see this as manslaughter; it was interpreted as an act of mercy, sparing the virgins from ever having to run one of TLIMIT’s trails. Pull My Pork said something offensive, but no one listened to him so it didn’t matter much. No one’s ever really liked him anyway.

 Terrible things were done on, to, and with playground equipment, so much so that in the days following, everyone under the age of 10 in the Chicagoland area contracted some form of venereal disease. Horn-E lost trail/was late to trail/got angry that trail was hijacked, gave up, and went back to the bar. Similarly, Lifa was only spotted twice – at chalk talk and then at circle – never in-between on trail, thusly securing his position as Hash Ninja. The Dark Kunt skipped gleefully along while yelling out, “CUNT!” more than was necessary or appropriate and O’Shitty Runch tragically died in some gruesome, sex toy-related death. At some point GloryHole became Shiva, Destroyer of Worlds; he would later use his powers for evil to decimate Wang Chunks’ half-bath.

 Furry hijacked trail. Repeatedly. String hijacked a trail into a bar, not realizing majority of the pack would not have money or IDs on them, which was a shame, because the bar’s special was the Ike Turner shot- a shot of Hennesey and a slap across the face. String wanted one, though Furry Spice suggested a cheaper Chris Brown version- a shot of Malort instead of Hennesey. (This actually happened; I heard the stories and got the text messages that night. You people are nuts.)

 There was the Return of the Crazy Lady, though this time her sweet dulcet tones seduced Hoosier Daddy, who happily rode off into the night on the handlebars of her bike as she wailed incessantly. Four Score in the Back Door had an aneurism whenever someone uttered “TLIMIT” in his presence and is now legally brain dead, though anyone has yet to notice. Glitter Spitter and That Thing That Vibrates finally amalgamated into one fearsome racist force, That Thing That Glitters, and is always the FBI by default. And there were hobos, in some form, on trail: hobo toilets, Hobo Alley, hobos giving out VDs – somewhere on one or all of these trails, there was hobo-influence.

 Circle was the usual shitshow of Malort-induced epic proportions, RA’d by the venerable TDK, though I’m sure Happy Ass Grabber and 10K Tika Ho stepped up when she blew off the hash. Various hashers ate candy off of TDK’s G-string, not realizing (or caring) that it was covered in her crotch sweat. All the hares were not punished enough for their shitty trails, and many down-downs were doled out. That Thing That Glitters was beer bitch and looked unhappy about it. Chip ‘N’ Dale was adamant about ordering pizzas, and consumed a cup full of anchovies by himself. Several Justs were named during this time, but fuck if I know which ones. Insane amounts of cheap beer were consumed, many body parts exposed, and much debaucherous fun was had by all.

 I missed you, hash. Even if you throw me down a flight of stairs, I’ll never leave you again, because “baby, when it’s love, if it’s not rough, it isn’t fun.”

 I think Jesus said that.



Thirstday H3 #427
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Black Rock
Hares:  The Least Interesting Man In The World & Master Debator

The idea for someone’s virgin lay is to pair that hasher up with a seasoned hare, a hare that has laid many a trail, de-virginized many a virgin, and all without any bad trail-laying habits to pass on to others.

 Notorious for laying nine mile trails on a THURSDAY NIGHT, I believe it is safe to say that T-LIMIT is not that hare.

 And yet…here we are.

 Given these circumstances, it’s surprising that anyone showed up at all. Hashers tend to be masochistic by nature, however, so they came out in droves for the trail, including Fistful of Pricks, Chicken Stiffer, Poultry Fucker, Crop Duster, WJew-40, Little Trojan Annie, GloryHole, BarfFly, Sandy Syphilis, Malort My Anus, Furry Spice, Gingersnatch, Caught Red Headed, PlatyPussy, Mount Schwiiinga, Just Vincenzo, Horn-E, Hood Whorenament, Just Hattie, That Thing That Vibrates, EZ on the Ass, Happy Ass Grabber, Lifa, Mudsucker, Salty Gash, Chunder Pussy,  and Back Door County. TH3 even attracted some visitors from Dallas Urban H3, for some unholy reason. It was a good group of degenerates for a shitty-ass trail.

 And was it ever a shitty-ass trail. It was freezing and damp out, and Master Debater informed everyone that he used chalkboard chalk to mark his portion of trail, which is code for “I don’t know what I’m doing and my marks are virtually invisible.” The shittiness was apparent after the first few blocks or so, where there was a Master Debater/T-LIMIT split. After T-LIMIT’s nine mile trail a few weeks previous which still brings a pucker to the assholes of the hashers who ran it, majority of the pack predictably ended up taking the Master Debater route, which ended up being a mile-long false. Bastards.

 After that debacle of a false, half the group gave up, specifically the walkers, visitors, and Horn-E, and went back to the bar. Those stupid enough to trudge on backtracked and took the T-Limit route with a sense of impending doom hanging over them. Soon it became clear that the hares had no idea what they were doing, since on top of using chalkboard chalk, Master Debater failed to mention that it was blue chalk. He used blue chalk. At night. While it was drizzling.

 No one ever claimed hashers were smart.

 Everyone got lost and the pack split, desperately trying to find the trail which was supposed to bring them closer to the promised beer. The DFLs, WJew-40, Little Trojan Annie, and Fistful of Pricks, decided they just didn’t give fuck and aimlessly wandered the streets and alleyways until Master Debater showed up in his car, took pity on them, and told them where the beer stop was. Obviously he didn’t pity them too much, though, since he didn’t offer them a ride. A few minutes later, the DFLs got to the beer stop, the dumpster area behind a high school, and realized for the first time in their lives they were FRBs. That is how shitty trail was- DFLs were FRBs. In fact, Jew, LTA and Fisty were able to drink their beer and make it back to the bar a mile away before most of the pack turned up at the beer stop. Apparently T-LIMIT did a huge circle jerk around Wrigley, and for that he would pay dearly.

 People trickled dejectedly back into the bar eventually, and circle was RA’d by Happy Ass Grabber.  T-LIMIT was sentenced to death by beering- while on his knees the pack threw full cans of beer at him for hours.  Master Debater was granted leniency, only because it was his virgin lay and his fingertips were already bloodied and scraped from using chalkboard chalk. The rest of circle was uneventful, except for a heated moment when the pack debated beering the Non-Running Bastards such as EZ, Hood Whorenament and Salty Gash, especially they gloated about spending the whole time in the back next to the roaring fire with their beer. However, common sense prevailed for once(<– a sentence one rarely gets to use while referring to a hash); it was pointed out that they were probably the smart hashers, so everyone drank themselves over T-Limit’s bloodied corpse until they couldn’t feel feelings anymore.



Thirstday H3 #426
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Cleo’s
Hares:  WJew-40 & Just Mike YouKnowMe

For whatever reason, WJew-40 decided to take Just mike under his wing and volunteer to help him hare his first trail out of Cleo’s. People who showed up for  what would surely be another shitty “Just” trail included Little Trojan Annie, Drill in my Box, Furry Spice, Gingersnatch, Happy Ass Grabber, Pull My Pork, Just Vincenzo, Dr. Fudgeknuckles, Chip ‘n’ Dale, Glitter Spitter, Hoosier Daddy, That Thing That Vibrates, Horn-E, O’Shitty Runch, and Platypussy. January proved to be the month of virgin lays for Thirstday, so it’s amazing that anyone showed up to run trail at all. Even the promise of beer hidden on trail at checks was not enough to unclench the rectums of everyone present and dreading the run.

The first check was a block away, in a fenced in playground of a school. The hares thought they would be clever, and make true trail back the way they came. However, they forgot they were dealing with hashers, undeniably the lowest of low society and therefore not the sharpest knives in the drawer. Platypussy gave up immediately, went back to Cleo’s, crawled into a malort bottle and refused to come out. Glitter Spitter and Dr. Fudgeknuckles hopped the fence and ran a few blocks down an alley before deciding it probably was the wrong way, giving up and having furious dumpster sex, breaking Glitter’s vagina in the process. That Thing That Vibrates sat on the giant alligator in the middle of playground wishing it was a fucksaw while everyone else frantically ran around in circles trying to find trail. Just Mike finally took pity on everyone, and pointed them in the right direction.

The first beer check was at Shit Fountain, much like the half frozen, slushy beer that was left for the hashers. Pull My Pork decided to express his feelings on the matter, and took a huge, steaming shit right there at Shit Fountain. After Pull My Pork cleaned himself up and the general retching of everyone else had subsided, once again the hashers lost trail, even after half the pack ran the right way passing six true trail marks, not seeing, deciding it was the wrong way and doubling back to Shit Fountain to try again. So once again Just Mike had to tell everyone which direction to go.

This particular pack of hashers had to be the least observant pack ever to grace the streets of Chicago, because after missing all those true trail marks, they then ran right by a huge “F” in glowing orange flour indicating a false trail, and ran several blocks before realizing they had once again lost trail. This time, at least, they were able to double back and find trail again without Just Mike’s helping, which I suppose is some sort of learning curve, no matter short.

The second beer check was at a high school, where there was a huge frozen puddle in the middle of the courtyard. Chip ‘n’ Dale and Hoosier Daddy started skating across the ice, and entertained everyone with a really nice impromptu routine which ended with Chip performing a triple axel and landing gracefully in Hoosier’s loving arms. Once the applause died down and everyone got a mouthful of frozen beer to chew, the pack continued on.

The third and final beer check came quick enough, considering the extreme cold and general mood of discontent. The beer was stashed in a park, though completely undrinkable- the cans were frozen solid. This did not deter That Thing That Vibrates, who gleefully took off to ride one of the ponies, the closest thing to a fucksaw she’d see that night, while O’Shitty Runch had a fucksaw flashback and cowered in fear. Dr. Fudgeknuckles showed everyone his trail treasure he found while “exploring” the dumpster with Glitter Spitter: a record called Initial Thrust by Dr. Dick Smith.

As the hashers started the last leg of trail to the on-in, Little Trojan Annie was hit with a particularly nasty asthma attack. She looked behind her for Just Mike, who was supposed to be sweeping, only to discover that Just Mike was actually a few blocks ahead of her, making him the worst sweeper in the history of sweeping. Luckily, LTA made it to the rape alley, where she found Initial Thrust record discarded. Dr. Dick Smith gave her enough resolve to finish trail, and she crawled into the on-in, barely breathing but gladly accepting her beer.

The on-in was in WJew-40’s band’s practice space, and he ushered a bunch of exhausted, cold and confused hashers through a labyrinth of hallways before getting to their room. Circle was RA’d by Happy Ass Grabber, and seeing how the group consumed an entire bottle of malort and eight pizzas within 15 minutes, the ridiculousness of circle is best left being described in bullet point form and direct quotes:

–          “Malort kills asthma!” – Pull My Pork

–          Platypussy taught Drill in My Box how to relax her jaw with great success.

–          Chip ‘n’ Dale choked on an anchovy and covered the ground in anchovy oil.

–          “I’d rather malort than anchovy.” – Drill in my Box

–          “I’ll have an anchovy with a malort chaser.” – Pull My Pork

–          Just Vincenzo baked a cake and created serving utensils of red plastic Solo cups.

–          Drill in my Box covered everyone with Flying Machine stickers.

–          “I hate semen on my lemon.” – Just Mike

–          Gingersnatch gave her number to Chip ‘n’ Dale.

–           After telling Dr. Fudgeknuckles that he liked him, Pull My Pork’s head imploded.

Once everyone stumbled back out into the cold night, Little Trojan shepherded Platypussy, Just Mike, WJew-40, and Drill in my Box back to Cleo’s, where Just Mike went to work trying to pick up a lady, not realizing the whole time he was hitting on Platypussy in his Viking hat, making the next morning all the more uncomfortable for the two of them.



Thirstday H3 #425 (“ScrewtheJewPalooza”)
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Cell Block
Hares:  10 Dix With Wings and Furry Spice

10 Dix With Wings finally decided to make good on her promise to leave Chicago, and coerced Furry Spice to co-hare her last “official” trail here. They headed to Boystown to hare out of the Cell Block, your friendly prison-themed gay bar, a perfect combination for a hash bar. Those who showed up to give 10 Dix a proper send-off included WJew40, The Least Interesting Man in the World, Hood Whorenament, TampOn TampOff, Happy Ass Grabber, Gingersnatch, Little Trojan Annie, Asscapades, Just Hattie, Drill in my Box, Hump Me Dump Me, Gloryhole, Just Mike, Just Joey, That Thing That Vibrates, String Theory, Hoosier Daddy, Caught Red Headed, Just Vincenzo, The Dark Kunt, Ice Princess, It’s Too Soft,  Just Elise, Glitter Spitter, Just John, Just Annie, Platypussy, and Pull My Pork.

 Trail was doomed from the start. The hares enlisted the help of Little Trojan Annie, making her an honorary hare and entrusting her with running chalk talk while they ran off to lay trail live. LTA forgot half the things they told her to tell everyone about what marks they were using, but it didn’t matter anyway because the wind was blowing the snow around so much that the marks got blown away before the pack could find them.

 Immediately the pack got helplessly lost and wondered up and down Ashland for awhile, trudging through the slush while screaming out, “R U?” and scaring off the general population. They finally guessed that the hares were probably bringing them towards the lake, and were lucky enough to stumble back onto trail. This turned out to be a mistake, however, because trail led them on a two mile false around one side of the harbor. When they got there, they were greeted by gleeful Furry with Four Loko, because a two mile false in a foot of snow isn’t punishment enough.  Across the water they could see 10 Dix at the actual shot stop, waving gleefully and unaware of the plotting already going on in everyone’s head on how best to get their revenge on the Jew. As if that weren’t bad enough, the pack was also informed that Wang Chunks (the gigantic pussy who is wintering in Texas because he can’t handle the cold) orchestrated the whole false trail. When the frozen, pissy, Four Loko-fueled pack finally made it to the real shot stop, the pack wasted no time in revealing their displeasure: String Theory, Gloryhole, and Platypussy immediately piledrived 10 Dix into a deep snow bank before taking the delicious buttery nipple shots she provided for everyone. Once everyone was warmed by booze and over their general displeasure of being fucked by #WangSpiceWithWings, they headed back downtrodden to the bar.

 Circle was especially boisterous and loud, the group making damn sure 10 Dix and Furry paid heavily for their heinous crimes on trail. Luckily WJew thinks ahead, and on the way back to the bar stopped for caking supplies. The hashers grabbed 10 Dix and ushered her out into the alley for the caking of a lifetime- while she kneeled down in the slush they covered her in eggs, flour, applesauce and silly string. Then everyone headed back into the bar when the real debauchery began.

 It was Little Trojan Annie’s birthday, and she celebrated by picking up a gay Englishman at the bar who kept buying her shots. Furry Spice kept his balls to himself for once, but the bimbos Hood Whorenament, The Dark Kunt, and Little Trojan Annie got inside the cell in the back of the bar and started dancing topless for everyone. Pull My Pork disappeared off to some dark corner with one of the bar’s regulars while Furry, in his hot pink hot pants, flirted with the bartender for free drinks. Ice Princess and 10 Dix ended up making out on the dance floor while WJew and Hoosier challenged a gay couple to Wii bowling, and subsequently had to make out with each other after losing. WJew did not survive the ordeal.

 The hash ended up closing the bar down, leaving all of their possessions and WJew behind. It was indeed a sad night for Anthrax bags, cameras, and Jews.



Thirstday H3 #424
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Morgan’s
Hares:  Happy Ass Grabber & Just Hattie

When one of the hares doesn’t participate in trail, especially as her virgin lay, you know the trail is going to go beyond all shitty expectations. As such, Just Hattie’s virgin lay with Happy Ass Grabberdid not disappoint. She was able to lay trail with Happy but claims she “was called into work” for an “emergency  9:00pm meeting” at “Starbucks,” ** and had to miss out on the rest of the hash.

 While Just Hattie was gone, a reputable list of wankers and bimbos showed up to Morgan’s to fill her void: Four Score in the Back Door, Furry Spice, Just John, Just Mike, Boner Malfunction, Lifa, WJew-40, Horn-E, Hoosier Daddy, Asscapades, Caught Red-Headed, Glitter Spitter, That Thing That Vibrates, TampOn TampOff, and Little Trojan Annie. During chalk talk Happy barely said the words, “beer hidden on trail” before the pack was gone in a cloud of flour dust and alcoholism. WJew did not see the point of all this “running” business when there was perfectly good beer in the bar, and turned back inside to wang trail.

 After the first check, TampOn climbed a fence directly into a police station where he was mistaken for an illegal immigrant and held for deportation. Boner gave up on trail early and pulled a cider out of his pocket to sip while strolling after the pack who were frantically looking for true trail- apparently not only is he too good to run trail, but he’s also too good for beer.

 In their desperate attempt to find the trail and beer, the hashers ran right by the first stash. It was eventually found by Just John, shaming all the veteran hashers to have been bested by a Just. The two cans of beer were passed around for everyone to share, and once consumed, trail resumed. It’s a good thing that beer was there, because immediately after the hares led the group on the longest circle jerk in the history of Thirstday hashing. This incensed everyone to epic proportions, especially Horn-E; the second hidden stash of beer was right after the circle jerk, and Horn-E was so upset that he took one of the cans of beer all for himself and crawled  under the train tracks while caressing the can and muttering, “My Precious…”

 During the last leg of trail, a heated debate broke out among the pack over trail marks. It seems the city also uses arrows to mark things on the pavement, so trail was lost and the bickering commenced. While arguing over which way trail went, and which arrows were hash arrows, or the “real ones,” someone yelled out, “How do you know if they’re real?” Glitter Spitter yelled back, “You spit on them!” and proceeded to spit on every mark on the pavement for the rest of trail, finally living up to her name. By following her trail of saliva, the pack was able to get back on trail and be that much closer to the beer.

 After a while the pack lost trail again, but this time, there were zero marks anywhere. The pack ended up in an empty double lot surrounded by abandoned buildings, and like all great horror movie premises, decided to split up to try to find trail. Little Trojan Annie decided this empty lot would be a great place to have an asthma attack, passed out and fell right onto the beer the hares had hidden from hobos  in the weeds, finding not only the beer stop but also being the FBI by default. The hashers finally found their way back to the lot, nudged LTA’s body off the case, and commenced the beer drinking.

 WJew showed up at some point, as did TampOn, once he shook the cops off his trail. Once LTA was revived by putting a beer in her hand, circle began in the incredibly cold Chicago night. TampOn left circle only to come back a few minutes later bundled up in winter clothes he got from home, pointing out his apartment literally right across the lot. After the hashers warmed up by beating TampOn with his parka, everyone invaded La Casa de TampOn to finish circle, finishing TampOn’s personal beer stash in the process as a punishment for making everyone stand in the cold. Asscapades took some pity on TampOn, and mopped the beer-covered floor for him, while TampOn introduced everyone to his snake Rosie. That Thing That Vibrates and Caught Red Headed were so memorized by Rosie, they stayed behind to stroke it while everyone headed back to Morgan’s for some post-trail debauchery.


** This, of course, is all code word for “My pimp Starbuck has a job for me tonight.”


Thirstday H3 #423
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Gambler’s/Casa de Taste the Rainbow
Hares:  Taste the Rainbow

Taste the Rainbow’s job is going to make him travel a lot until April, so he offered to hare this kind-of-but-not-really “goodbye” hash in his own honor, and he planned to do it live, which, in a hash full of Front Running Bastards, you know means a shitty trail.

 But he was set on haring a live trail, so hashers eagerly showed up at Gambler’s to watch him go down in flames. It was a really good send-off: Little Trojan Annie, Just JT, Snatchsquatch, Back Door County, Chunder Pussy, Just Shelly, Just Mike, Just Preston, The Dark Kunt, Just Tim, Lifa, Double Fister, EZ on the Ass, Sin Calzones, Dark Side of the Poon, WJew-40, Chip N Dale, R Tard E, Just Hattie, Happy Ass Grabber (with Turbo Dog), Drill in My Box, TampOn TampOff, The Least Interesting Man in the World, Ice Princess, Soul Taco, Just John, Asscapades, Four Score in the Back Door, Glitter Spitter, Gingersnatch, Boner Malfunction, String Theory and Ass 2 Mouth were all present to say a temporary goodbye to the Rainbowed One.

 Before starting chalk talk, Taste the Rainbow donned a ridiculous ammo belt full of every color of chalk imaginable, along with condiment bottles full of different colors of flour.  In short, he looked fabulously hashy. With his arsenal of colors and resembling a gay Rambo, Taste took off, leaving the pack to give him not much of a head start before hunting him down like a frightened, multicolored rabbit.

 One of the first check points on trail was in front of the Admiral, and a few hashers died of shock when Four Score did not make a stop inside, though it stands to reason he was afraid of running into former girlfriends. The rest of trail was confusing and shitty, full of circle jerks and endless strip malls. WJew-40 and R Tard gave up very quickly, and started hitting all the liquor stores on trail, buying beer to drink while they strolled. Four Score had requested parkour on trail, and Taste obliged, making the pack jump numerous fences and walls; Just Preston, Double Fister, and Asscapades were lost that night to fence impalements. Of those who did not perish on fences, the majority got hopelessly lost from Taste’s random arrows making them cross the same street five times in less than a block, and most of them sat down on the curb and cried.

 Those who persevered, however, were driven by a rage known only to hashers running a shitty trail, and they were determined to make Taste the Rainbow pay. The hashers’ collective need for Taste’s blood was finally answered when Lifa and Dark Side of the Poon caught him and shagged the hell out of him. Taste’s self-esteem vanished, and, hanging his head in shame, he led the survivors back to his house for the on-after, with Lifa and Dark Side gleefully high-fiving each other behind his back.

 Circle took place in Taste’s backyard, and was RA’d by the venerable Dark Kunt.  Hashers seemed to come out of the woodwork and many of them showed up late, luckily having enough sense to skip trail and just get to the beer-drinking part. This proved a problem, however, as the cases of shitty beer Taste provided ran out rather quickly. Everyone thought this problem was solved when Taste unearthed a case of Goose Island 312, and many beat-downs were given to get to the good beer. However, it was soon discovered that this was skunked 312 left over from the Pink Dress Run in September, and those who were unfortunate to drink some of it were left to vomit out their insides in the alley behind Taste’s garage. Chip N Dale and Dark Side of the Poon were the hash heroes for going on a beer run and coming back with good ol’ PBR.

 WJew strolled into circle twenty minutes after it had started, bearing the sad news that R Tard had been mauled by a bear at the check in the middle of the high school field, though it was unclear if it was a bear in the traditional sense or the Boystown sense. Either way, all was not lost, as WJew managed to save R Tard’s beer before he went down in a flurry of claws and pain, and honored his friend by drinking it as he watched him be dragged away screaming. The hashers were nonplussed at hearing this news, but still congratulated WJew on his heroics in saving the beer.

 Circle was the usual shitshow with familiar players. Just Mike was called in for being a little too excited for bringing his virgin sister Just Shelly to the hash, and then their cousin Gingersnatch decided to join in, creating one big incestuous down-down. Ass 2 Mouth had a down-down for “wanging” trail, and another one for using the term “wanging trail.” Turbo Dog was called in for not paying hash cash (a truly offensive hash behavior), and when she decided she’d rather get friendly with EZ on the Ass’s crotch, Happy Ass Grabber had to pick up her slack and do her down-down. Taste the Rainbow clearly did not get enough down-downs because he was able to remain standing the entire duration of circle, and as such the hash voted to beat him with his ammo belt for trying to pass skunked beer off on them. Right when things were getting interesting, however, a pizza delivery guy magically appeared, and circle was suspended due to deliciousness, never to be reconvened.

 While trashing Taste’s kitchen and inhaling 20 pizzas, the pack decided it would be a great time to try to name Just Jessica again. After hearing some truly hilarious stories, Just Jessica was aptly rechristened as The Cock Whisperer, and given her down-down. She celebrated her new name after the hash was over with a handful of hashers, namely, String Theory, WJew-40, Drill in My Box, and Little Trojan Annie, by bringing tacos into a Mexican bar and watching String Theory get shanked by one of the regulars who kept screaming something about “frijoles.”


Thirstday H3 #422 (Anthrax ’11: A Tribute to Anthrax)
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: The Lockdown
Hares:  Wang Chunks & Ass2Mouth

Here is the story of another Wang2Mouth production, a shitshow of epic proportions including treacherous hijacks, spying on old ladies, epic bear fights and run-ins with biker gangs.

 But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

 It started out ordinarily enough, ordinary for a hash that is. Wang and Ass 2 Mouth decided to take Little Trojan Annie under their proverbial wing and invited her to lay trail with them as an unofficial hare. Little did they know that LTA had an agenda of her own, but that will come into play later. Suffice it to say that the three headed out and laid a shitty trail, and went back to The Lockdown to have some burgers and beer while waiting for everyone else to show up.

 People showed up, surprisingly, and brought some shitty weather with them. As the rain came down, hashers started crashing the heavy metal bar, hashers like WJew-40, Just William, Just Hattie, Just Jessica, Platypussy, Just Mike, Hustle and Flow, Chunder Pussy, TampOn TampOff, 10K Tika Ho, Back Door County, Just Tim, Chip N Dale, 10 Dix with Wings, and Just Ashley. For some unfathomable reason, this hash even attracted a few visitors, CPA from New York and Just Colin and Just Diana from Portland. Just Colin informed the hash that he actually just moved to Chicago, and many condolences were given. That Thing That Vibrates showed up just in time to collect hash cash from everyone, and volunteer to “wang trail” and not run, instead staying at the bar to watch everyone’s stuff- meaning she probably rifled through everything and stole your shit.

 Hashers piled out of the bar to listen the hares’ chalk talk.  Luckily the rain had subsided by this time, and the hares promised the marks wouldn’t have washed out, making all the hashers cringe a bit in disbelief.  After a rousing rendition of Father Abraham, the hashers were off. ATM was staying behind to drive the beer to the beer stop while Wang and LTA were going to run with the pack and sweep. However, LTA managed to covertly double back to the bar once trail started to meet up with WJew-40, and by “covertly” I mean “everyone noticed right away she was missing.” It didn’t matter though, because the ball was already rolling.

 See, a month previously when Wang and ATM first signed up to hare trail, WJew-40 approached LTA and asked if she’d be his partner in crime and hijack their trail. A plan went into motion involving Taste the Rainbow as well, but at the eleventh hour Rainbow pussied out, leaving Jew and LTA high and dry. As a last-ditch attempt to hijack trail, LTA emailed Wang with a bullshit reason of seeing if they’d be available for a prelube session before trail as a way to maybe find out their plans for trail exactly. Much to LTA’s surprise and glee, Wang instead invited her to help them lay trail. All the while they were laying trail, LTA texted Jew the locations of all the check points, who then went out, scouted trail, found a good spot to lead everyone off trail, and set up the hijack.

 Back to where LTA ditched the hash and met back up with Jew at the bar, they happened to run into ATM, who was just leaving to head towards the beer stop. Jew and LTA flat-out told him they were hijacking the trail. ATM laughed like it was a good joke, and headed to the beer stop, not believing they could pull off hijacking a Wang2Mouth trail. Jew and LTA shrugged, and headed to the hijack with a trunk full of good beer.

 The hijack ended up being behind a wall of a school in an alley. They tagged the wall #TrojanJew and went to meet everyone at the hijack spot two blocks away on trail to direct them to the beer. The first hasher they found was Horn-E, who uncharacteristically missed the start of trail and was trying to find it on his own. Blind luck had him stumble upon the hijack, and he went rather willingly with Jew down an unknown alley for the promise of beer.

 Everyone else made it to the hijack spot and had gotten a Shiner Bock when a car came down the alley, slowing and rolling down the windows. A woman was in the car, pulling into her garage across from the beer stop. She parked her car and came out to talk to all the hashers; once she found out what the hash was all about, she declared that she was surprised to see a bunch of adults drinking behind the school as opposed to a bunch of kids smoking there. She also expressed an interest in hashing, and Chip N Dale gave her all the information she needed to decide not to join us.

 Once everyone had their fill of Shiner Bock, the hashers were sent on their way again onto true trail to the actual beer stop, where ATM had been waiting for a long time and had no idea what was taking everyone so long. Unfortunately for him, the beer stop was at Hobo Alley, and being left there alone so long left ATM scarred and a little off-kilter. Jew and LTA drove to the beer stop to give ATM a Shiner Bock and inform him his trailed had been successfully hijacked, and ATM took it well enough, accepting his Shiner Bock while crawling into the weeds, curling into the fetal position and continuously muttering, “I can’t believe Little Trojan Annie was a Trojan horse.”

 The rest of the hashers showed up at the beer stop, and were strangely immune to the horrors of Hobo Alley the second time around, probably because they had bellies full of good beer and Wang was smart enough to take them on a trail that did not involve the railroad police. Everyone drank their beer and passed around the bottle of peppermint schnapps without incident, ignoring the Trojan horse mutterings coming from the weeds around them and enjoying the beautiful nighttime Chicago skyline.

 This beer stop was short, due to the hijack, so the pack downed their beers and headed to cover the last part of trail. This is where the pictures from trail tell a very interesting story. Just William was deemed hash flash for this particular trail, and clearly does not have the mental capacity to take focused pictures with a camera that automatically focuses. Of the pictures that are discernable, and excluding the 85% of them that are pictures of harriettes’ asses as Just William ran behind them, the rest of them include an insane dog behind a gate clearly craving hasher blood, a half eaten dead rat in an alley, a pizza delivery guy who got the wrong address, and shots of hashers’ piss on random fences on trail. The best shot of the night just might be of a manger scene outside a church where Just William is in the manger as baby Jesus with Chip N Dale, TampOn TampOff and Just Colin posed at the Three Wise Men. The most disturbing picture, however, is a shot Just William took of an old woman in her living room, proving once and for all his penchant for peeping on the elderly.

 Whatever the trail lacked in creativity and ingenuity was made up for at the on-after back at the Lockdown, where the true shitshow of fuckery was made apparent. Circle was full of horrible accusations- Just William called in for peeping in on old women changing; R-Tard, who came late, was accused of ignoring That Thing That Vibrates and sitting at the bar leaving TTTV alone at the table watching everyone’s stuff; WJew and LTA were of course called in for hijacking trail, but mostly as heroes, and given a congratulatory down-down by Wang Chunks and Ass 2 Mouth; and Horn-E was called in for missing chalk talk but finding the hijack spot with the good beer. It was decided that it was finally time to name Just William, and while there were some heavy-hitting names up for vote (Vaguely Mexican and 99 Taco Platter, for example) he walked away with the excruciatingly painful name of The Least Interesting Man in the World. To comfort himself from this shameful display of hasher naming, TLIMITW went back to his peeping roots at the old woman’s house, professed his love to her, and the two blissfully ran off to Tijuana on a whirlwind romantic getaway vacation.

 Because the pack wanted to outdo themselves in shitty namings, they then tried to name Just Jessica. But after that failed attempt, everyone decided to get the fuck out of the cold and drown the sorrows of their miserable lives with bear fights, which didn’t end well for anyone. WJew disappeared on a journey he does not remember trying to find the majestic White Castle in the land of Sliders and woke up with major indigestion. Chip N Dale, TampOn TampOff, and Just Colin decided they really were the Three Wise Men, and set off to bring their robes to the dry cleaners for when they went to pass out pamphlets at the airport. Wang was feeling a bit peckish and went off to find the dead rat on trail to subdue the bear fight within. Ass 2 Mouth emasculated a table of bikers with his feminine form and blonde wig, and would have been taken out back and beaten to a bloody pulp if he hadn’t grabbed the loudest one and stuck his tongue down his throat. To everyone’s surprise, especially the biker, Ass 2 Mouth ended up on the back of his motorcycle at the end of the night, and they currently have plans to settle blissfully in Maine and start a family.

 The next afternoon WJew stumbled back into The Lockdown clutching a bottle of Tums in one hand and downing a bottle of Pepto with the other to ask if they still had his credit card from the night before. As the heavily pierced and tattooed bartender handed it over, she asked with an air of incredulous wonderment, “What the hell happened here last night?”

 Lady, you have no idea.


Thirstday H3 #420 (Ugly Sweater Hash)
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Moe’s Bar
Hares:  EZ On The Ass

Keeping up with a long-time hash tradition, a few select hashers, the biggest degenerates of a group of degenerates, got together before the hash to pre-lube. 10 Dix with Wings, WJew-40,  Little Trojan Annie, and Four Score in the Back Door all enjoyed a few pre-beer beers at Moe’s, later joined by the hare EZ on the Ass after he returned from laying trail. They made a new drinking buddy, a regular at Moe’s named Gunther. But they soon found out that Gunther doesn’t play nice with others because he drank their beer but refused to put in any beer money, so the hashers shoved him into a beer bottle and prepared for trail.

 The rest of the hashers started showing up, and as usual it was a pretty decent selection of wankers and bimbos, including Just William, Happy Ass Grabber, Drill in My Box, String Theory, Just Hattie, The Dark Kunt, Back Door County, Chunder Pussy, Taste the Rainbow, Soul Taco, Lifa, Free VD, Just Tim, Mount Schwiiinga, O’Shitty Runch, Just JT, I.V., BarfFly and Horn-E. As everyone stumbled into Moe’s, the ugly sweaters were outdoing themselves in ugliness, and, seeing how hashers were the ones wearing them, that is saying something.

 EZ ran chalk talk, and promised a shitty trail, albeit a short one, and sent the hounds off. The pack quickly came to a check on a busy intersection and scattered, looking for true trail. String Theory found a hole in a fence around an abandoned grocery store, and proceeded to check the parking lot for hash marks. After running through the parking lot, up to the entrance of the building and making friends with the hobos camped out there, String came back to the check, claiming that wasn’t the way. Everyone searched for trail another ten minutes before Just Tim decided to check the parking lot again. Shortly after going through the hole, Just Tim called On-On, and everyone grumbled at String Theory as they passed the glaringly obvious marks he supposedly did not see. Waiting those ten extra minutes at the check wasn’t a complete loss though, because it gave Little Trojan Annie a chance to teach 10 Dix the proper way to fondle a breast on the street corner.

 The rest of the trail was sadly uneventful, so WJew-40 decided to up the ante, pulled out his flask of Christmas Cheer, and called random shot stops on trail for those who were lucky enough to be as slow as he is. Mount Schwiiinga, Just JT, LTA and 10 Dix were among the lucky ones who got Jew’s hits of holiday happiness. Because of the shot stops, this group was among those who were DFLs to the beer stop, but this worked in their advantage. EZ decided to reward the DFLs with the good beer, and all the racists with shitty drinks. So while most of the hounds got PBR and Four Loko to share, the DFLs received Heinekens and continued to drink from Jew’s flask. In the end, the result was the same: everyone was too drunk to care.  So drunk, in fact, that LTA decided to hold her own Rumple Minze challenge. No one else participated, but LTA still lost, and took about three layers of skin off her tongue.

 The hashers started back to Moe’s, drunker than when they started, the way a good hash should be. O’Shitty Runch, who has a propensity for playgrounds, discovered one near the beer stop on the way back. After checking there were no four-person fucksaws there, he ran off gleefully toward the jungle gym, followed by TDK, Jew, and LTA. TDK happened to have a can of Four Loko with her, and they decided to finish it together before tackling the monkey bars. Surprisingly they all survived their drunken playground debauchery, leading them to believe that Four Loko gave them magic powers.

Someone had decided that putting LTA in charge of the hash cash was a stellar idea, and by the time she finally got her drunk-ass back to Moe’s, the rest of the hash was sobering up and ready to hang and quarter her for keeping them from their beer.  Then they were met with more bad news- the beer was going to be more expensive than what they had previously thought. LTA, however, saw an opportunity- she managed to barter down the price of pitchers with the bartender by striking the deal that every time she bought a round, she’d flash her boobs at him. By taking one for the team, LTA not only got back in the good graces of the hashers, but also got some free rounds from the bartender as well. Alas, there was a downside: Runch, never having seen female breasts before, passed out in a dead faint out of excitement. The rest of the hashers took pity on him, dragged him into a corner of Moe’s, and covered him with ten pounds of ugly holiday sweaters.

Once beer had been procured and passed out to the happy hashers, circle was started, and it was the usual shitshow run by TDK. Happy Ass Grabber did his impression of Beer Spill Valdez’ Rich Man dance in the middle of circle, and as he collapsed on the ground, hashers poured beer into his mouth, drowning and killing him. Fistful of Pricks and Rotten Whore were late comers who didn’t run trail and were punished accordingly with down-downs. Everyone was too drunk to remember who the FRB was and just made Taste the Rainbow do the down-down for it, because it was probably him anyway. Little Trojan Annie and EZ were both wearing menorah sweaters, so they were made honorary Jews for the night and drank down-downs with Jew and 10 Dix, because when one Jew drinks, all Jews drink. String Theory decided he was tired of the idiocy of circle and left to go drink with the bums at the abandoned grocery store.

Circle was declared closed but people were having too much of a good time to leave right away. The bartender introduced his favorite regular, a fellow by the name CJ, to the group, and after TDK and LTA flashed him, he bought a round of pitchers for everyone. The bartender took out a jug from behind the bar and poured out shots for everyone, calling it Smurf Piss. Despite being convinced it was actually the bartender’s piss, the hashers still took copious amounts of shots from that jug. Smurf Piss put everyone in just the right mood to reconvene circle and try to name Just William. Many good names were suggested, such as Fogo de Chode, Spanko Popular, and Showerbating Fucksaw. So many good names, in fact, that the drunks couldn’t agree on one and decided to table it, opting to go get Mexican food instead. So the hash went for tacos and dollar margaritas, leaving Runch in his cozy nest of ugly to dream about boobs.


Thirstday H3 #419 & Choir Practice
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: Chris’ Northland Tavern & Grill
Hares:  Glitter Spitter, Just William

It is a little known fact that regardless of actual musical talent, hash songs render everyone who sings them completely tone deaf. Even if Pavarotti were to, for some ungodly reason, find himself in a dive bar for a hash, he himself could not sing a single hash note on key. It’s science.

 With that being said, it only makes sense that a bunch of wankers would get together to sing horrible songs in horrible voices in a very public setting. After a lot of hashers demanded to learn words to hash songs, or had the desire to learn new songs, a massive effort was put forth to accommodate their wishes. And by massive effort I mean a half-assed choir practice was arranged by Mismanagement to take place an hour before the hash. Wang Chunks was stupid enough to volunteer to lead the drunken sing-along. Others who participated included Caught Red Headed, Little Trojan Annie, Just Mike, Drill In My Box, Just Hattie, Furry Spice, Hoosier Daddy, Just Tim, Malort My Anus and 10 Dix With Wings. WJew-40 and Rotten also showed up, though late. It was forgiven once WJew-40 pulled a flask of Costco’s finest off-brand whiskey to share.

 Wang started off this shitstorm by singing all the predetermined songs first so other hashers could hear the “tune.” He got about halfway through the songs when a non-hashing douchebag put about $20 in the jukebox to drown him out. Not to be deterred, choir practice was moved to the baseball field outside behind the bar, where WJew-40’s flask of knock-off Jameson was actually appreciated.

 Once all the songs were sung once by Wang, the hashers went around & took turns starting off each song for the group to sing. Rotten was giggling too hard to sing a single song all the way through, channeling her inner prepubescent teen girldom. Wang showed off his stellar cheerleading skills, outdoing all the bimbos in the group, making everyone believe he’s had extensive experience jumping around in a skirt. Drill In My Box really emoted every song, incorporating fist pumps at the end of every line sung, much to the chagrin of those standing around her. Just Hattie had never heard of Creedence Clearwater Revival, causing many hashers present to either collapse in a dead faint or slap her silly. The ridiculousness would have continued had it not been for That Thing That Vibrates, who came to usher everyone back into the bar for the actual hash.

When the CPers entered the bar, it was full to the brim of mostly hashers, with a few angry-looking regulars looking stabby by the pool table. These hashers included Hustle and Flow, Pull My Pork, Four Score in the Back Door, String Theory, Back Door County, That Thing That Vibrates, Lifa, Sandy Syphillis, Just Patrick, Just Rachel, Clit Notes, R Tard E, Happy Ass Grabber, O’Shitty Runch, Snatchsquatch, Two Girls One Cupcake, Pooljob, BarfFly, Dr. Fudgeknuckles, and Fistful of Pricks. The hares, Glitter Spitter and Just William, finally got their acts together and ushered everyone outside for chalk talk.

Just William took off immediately, since they planned to hare a live trail. Glitter remained behind to run chalk talk, and announced that it was going to be a racist trail, causing six hashers to have preemptive heart attacks and drop dead right there on the pavement. Still a few others just turned right around and went back into the bar to drink with the angry locals. Those who remained really didn’t want to run but figured it couldn’t be that bad of a trail, and set off.

And yes, it really was that bad. By bad I mean long. Inhumanely long.

Glitter had promised a prize to the Front Running Bastards, which ended up being a pitcher of beer prepaid at a bar that was on trail. However, Just William clearly has no idea how to mark a trail, and used marks foreign to hashers, so they thought the “Beer” with an arrow pointing inside the bar was a trick, and kept sprinting ahead. The DFLs, however, figured they were already so far behind they had nothing to lose to check it out, and entered the friendliest dive bar on the planet. The bartender filled a pitcher, and since there were about 15 people there, she was told not to bother with glasses. The hashers then formed a line around the bar and had a beer train, drinking straight from the pitcher. R Tard E, being last in line, drank about two-thirds of the pitcher by himself before sputtering and handing it off to the others to finish.

Shortly after leaving the bar, the group passed a Catholic church, where WJew-40 was chased down by a handful of Catholic school boys and beat with crucifixes. This was about halfway through trail, when Malort My Anus and Dr. Fudgeknuckles gave up and went back to Northland Tavern, which would have been acceptable hash behavior had they not missed the boob check. The trail was so shitty that even though the DFLs spent a good 20 minutes chugging on the beer train, they still caught up to the FRBs, who couldn’t find trail to save their lives. For the first time ever, Lifa was spotted not only at the back of the pack but walking for at least half of the hash. This was a rare opportunity for hashers, a Lifa sighting on trail- generally no one sees him from chalk talk until the on-after.

Similarly, Four Score in the Back Door saw this trail as his chance to finally be FRB since Taste the Rainbow smartly did not show up to the hash. However, the length of the trail broke his spirit so much that he gave up and went off to commiserate with some strippers and slap shots. Even though he wasn’t present, Taste the Rainbow was still named as FRB.

Soon the group came to a check in a park; while most of the hashers did the work to try to find trail, WJew-40, O’Shitty Runch, Drill In My Box and Little Trojan Annie decided to fuck trail and indulge in their childhood whims by running to play in the playground. They soon discovered a four-person fucksaw and rode it with glee, at least at first. While the others thoroughly enjoyed themselves, the four-person fucksaw ride clearly broke Runch physically, mentally and emotionally, and limped off to follow the rest of the pack with the eyes of child who cannot unsee what was just seen.

Eventually the hashers came to a busy six corner check, where a bum was waiting for them. Clearly in a drunken stupor and possibly was a hasher in a previous life, the bum started offering his services to give everyone some free VD. Glitter Spitter ran off screaming at this prospect, but That Thing That Vibrates stuck around to find out what this VD thing is all about. Presumably she’s still there working as an intern for the bum, educating the public on the benefits of VDs, and giving out free samples.

Finally, after nine miles and two hours (which is sadly not an exaggeration for once), the beer stop was discovered on top of some railroad tracks that was definitely a murder site at some point of their existence. And what, praytell, was the reward for sticking out such a horribly shitty trail? One warm can of PBR a piece. Fucking wankers.

Snatchsquatch, who instead of running trail walked straight to the beer stop from the bar, asked the others what took them so long and complained about having to wait for hours alone in the dark. The hashers who ran then collectively beat Snatch within an inch of his life with their shoes to put him out of his misery, and felt justified in doing so.

They still had a mile to trudge back to the bar, and the downtrodden hashers trickled in. Luckily the Non-Running Bastards were prepared, and had a ton of pitchers all ready for the poor, broken sods. Wang Chunks RA’d circle, and maybe it was giddiness from being so exhausted from trail, but the hashers outdid themselves. Sting Theory had everyone feel his rock-hard nipples that you could hang a wool coat off of, and did a down-down for it. For some reason everyone picked on the Jews, so WJew-40 and 10 Dix With Wings had a lot of down-downs, though no one could remember why. The hares, as always, did not drink nearly enough as punishment for a shitty trail. And Wang finally revealed his true feelings for Snatch by sticking his tongue so far down his throat that when he finally came up for air he knew exactly what Snatch had for breakfast that morning. Eventually things got so rowdy the bar’s regulars all left in a huff, pissing off the bartender and causing the jukebox, for the second time that night, to be turned on to drown the hashers out. But they had shitty beer and good friends, so it didn’t really matter anyway.


Thirstday H3 #417
Drunkenly Documented by Little Trojan Annie

Venue: J&M Tap
Hares:  Just Jessica, Happy Ass Grabber, & Turbo Dog

The hash started out innocently enough, as innocent as a hash can ever be. Having sufficiently prelubed for a few hours, Ass to Mouth, Wang Chunks, W-Jew-40, and Little Trojan Annie tried to catch people up by requiring them to slam an Early Times shot, a Wang2Mouth shot, and a Schlitz beer immediately upon entering the bar. Just William was the first victim hasher who performed this and he did so admirably, and several others followed suit until everyone was too incapacitated to make the late-comers man up.

Other people finally showing up for trail included the hares, Just Jessica, Happy Ass Grabber & Turbo Dog, along with usual group of wankers and bimbos: Lifa, That Thing That Vibrates, Glitter Spitter, EZ on the Ass, Taste the Rainbow, The Dark Kunt, Just Hattie, Dr. Fudge Knuckle, Platy Pussy, String Theory, O’Shitty Runch, Pull My Pork, Horn-E, Pied Piper, Four Score in the Back Door, Just Mike, Malort My Anus, and Furry Spice, among others. Chalk talk made everyone’s asshole pucker a bit for the impending shitty trail, and everyone left in a booze-soaked haze of trepidation.

The trail was reminiscent of a hobo toilet in that it was indelibly shitty and full of hobos, the kind of fuckery you would expect on a virgin hare’s trail. In that respect, Just Jessica did not disappoint: over six miles of checks and urban shiggy in the freezing Chicago weather. The hares tried to be clever with numerous circle jerks, but as the old saying goes, “Fool the hashers once, shame on you; fool the hashers twice, expect some down-downs.”

At one point the trail took the herd up some train tracks, right to where the railroad police were waiting, because apparently the railroad road police are a real thing. The officers went into a screaming rage, threatening everything from written citations for trespassing to federal pound-you-in-the-ass prison time, causing String Theory to wet himself out of fear and Four Score to collapse into the fetal position while sucking his thumb. Luckily Lifa intervened, and began negotiations with officers to stop the madness. It was hard to find just the right thing to entice the cops to let the hash go, but Lifa had a sudden brainstorm, and soon an agreement was made. Because of Lifa’s quick thinking, the hash was allowed to leave and continue trail relatively unscathed while Taste the Rainbow was left behind to give the cops a few of his famous moustache rides.

After a turkey/eagle split, the hash finally reassembled at the beer stop: a patch of eye-level weeds in an empty lot nestled between train tracks crawling with the power-hungry railroad cops and an abandoned building that looked straight out of a Stephen King novel and was probably infested with angry hobos. Even the promise of beer was not enough to squash the fear that every hasher inevitably had as they picked their way up the path, that this was the path to their ultimate demise.

The Non-Running Bastards, namely those who prelubed for hours and were too drunk to figure out trail, caught a ride to the beer stop, grabbed one of the blankets Just Jessica provided for circle, and immediately made a love nest among the weeds. The rest of the hashers who actually were stupid enough to run trail trickled in, their eyes wide with anxiety and fear. Beer was immediately dispensed, however, and as the sweet ignorance of drunk settled in, everyone relaxed.

The Dark Kunt did a shitastic job RA-ing her first ever circle, and kept those wankers in order; she even doled out a few down-downs to those who disrespected her. The hares were punished the most, mostly for there not being enough circle jerks or cops on trail. A bottle of whiskey was passed around the circle, and good times were had by all.

As everyone headed back down the death trail for the long walk back to the bar, there was a frantic race to get to Happy’s car for a ride back. Once his car was packed-full of drunken, down-trodden hashers, they took off for the on-after bar, where there was much carousing and debauchery going on well into the night. Sadly, with all the drunken hashers filling Happy’s car, Turbo Dog was left to fend off the angry hobos among the weeds, and we can only assume he joined up the railroad police to help keep the local riffraff like the hashers off the tracks.