Date: 2/4/19<br/>

Hare: Basket Boom Boom<br/>

Unfortunate Souls: Shemale Man, Oozing, Whipos, Amish, Basket, Butler, Butt Plug, Crotch Tiger, Pussy Galore, ……. (Who Knows!)<br/>

HASHIT: The One and Only “Shemale Man”<br/><br/>

 

The fog surrounding me and the Hash was thick, the air muggy and all sense of the world gone. As we ran on further into the woods it was difficult to know both where we were going and when we would get there. Fear was pounding at my heart, but there was no going back. I had to keep going. Me, Amish, & Pussy Galore, pushed forward struggling to breathe as we went. The trail seemed to be endless. There was nowhere to go. We were lost in the middle of a dark black forest with no orange food, no beer, and not even whisky, only Baileys Goats Milk Irish Cream. That was when we started to panic.<br/><br/>

My breath started to stager. It was too hard to keep going. My knees went weak and gave way. It felt as though I was falling. Falling through a deep dark tunnel. I had fainted. I woke up shortly after with Amish slapping my face painfully and shacking me. A look of concern crossed with fear was upon Pussy Galore’s face. I tried to sit up but the pain in my stomach was unbearable. Finally, I was able to sit up against the tree. Though as I sat the three of us remained silent. Up further away a front running bastard Whipos cried to the moon. On On!!! His Head Lamp was barely visible through the dense fog. It was hard to tell who was more scared. The looks on Amish and Pussy Galore’s face made me feel very uneasy. We sat there for a minute that seemed to go for an eternity. As the trees moved in the aggressive wind, shadows of frightening shapes littered the ground. As we moved on, we came to a BN marked in flour on the ground. Which was very odd in such a deserted environment. We approached carefully not wanting the Hare to know that we were walking upon his beer stop. His beer stop in which he guarded viciously and greedily wanting to protect his orange food & beer. As we approached, a Crotch Tigger ran in front of us. Its blood red eyes were boring into us. We started to back away but there was nowhere to go. The Crotch Tigger gave us a fleeting look that told us it would be back. I looked into Amish’s soft hazel eyes then into Pussy Galore’s vivid blue eyes. We walked on. <br/><br/>


Finally, we reached the beer stop. Smoke was rising from an imaginary fire (would have been nice to have a fucking fire Basket!) and drifting softly into the air without a care in the world. I called On On!!! There was a ringing silence that went for a time that seemed to want to last forever. No one answered. I called On On again. A groaning noise came from within the nearby woods and a young beautiful man steeped out. It’s Oozing with the beer! We were saved. Out of beer out of here Oozing let us use his iPhone. Ten minutes later a VW with snow tires was speeding towards us. It was Butler & Butt Plug to rescue us from the terrible out trail. The journey to the on after was enjoyable with a nice long nap. Everything was back to normal again. <br/><br/>

 

THE END