Another Hash Crash (10/10 trash version 2)

Shart and I independently trashed it up.  Here's my account since you don't have to work or anything today. Some overlap, some differences, Flyby video showing Shits' bad zenning, and dog park shenanigans to be posted to the Book of Visages soon.

Oct 10, 2018 The Perfect 10 Trail (OMG, I just got this!)

Hares: Blondie McFucksalot and Cuntcussion

Bag car: Marbelous Asshole

Pack: RAs Yellow Dick Gnome, Bottom Wrangler/Ass Cowboy, Sex: The Final Frontier, Dribbles, Knuckles Deep, Testicular Mechanics, Shits ‘N Ladders, Shart of Darkness, Dry Hoes, Dribbles, Just Ruth, Just Jimmy*, Just Sarah-Claire, TindrDick, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Twat My Mother, Swedish Eagle, Vaginacolagist now from Sacramento, Visitor from DC, Topless Barbie, 5 Inch Penalty, Cummy Sticks, Virgin Chris, Virgin (James?), Orgasm Falmon, Body in Lotion, Bring Out Your Gimp, Easy as 123, Chunderelli Chunderelli, Angry Crotch, Luva Lamp, Goat Throat, Angry Dog Owners, STF: Clit Notes.  (Like 3 others I can’t name).

Prelube and Leg 1: The Harborwalk

We started at Cisco Brewery, Hopsters because Cisco was a brewery with no beer because our hare is evidently such a millennial that she tweets @a bar rather than calling them.  Gnome and Wrangler gave chalk talk to the 2 virgins and we were off.  No marks to be found after check, but 5 Inch arrived late and reported seeing marks over the Seaport Blvd bridge via accidentally scouting on his way to prelube. Down the gracious Greenway we ran until finding a mark pointing across the street.  We were about to follow it when we spotted a Song Check that would only make sense if the mark was ignored.  Pack (and especially Gimp) looked further down the Greenway, but 5 Inch followed his nose to a Hash Sitapede hidden on the far side of construction with nary a mark to it.  From here, trail when along the Harborwalk before needing to sing a song to the fishes, which Falmon cut to Why Were They Born So Beautiful? .  BN led to BC1 in Pilot House Park.

Leg 2: We Let the Dogs Out

Trail immediately went uphill and into the dense narrow streets of the North End, where trail kept getting solved at record pace.  A check at the top of Copps Hill seemed unsolvable because no one would venture downhill toward the way we came, but when someone finally did, we found ourselves dashing through a dog park and basically freeing all the enslaved dogs from the fenced yard.  One dog in particular made the most spirited dash for freedom since Mel Gibson’s run across Bannockburn.  I put myself in an all-out sprint ahead of the owner and caught the jailbird.  I apologized profusely.  The muggles’ only exasperated cry was, “Use common fucking sense.”  I replied that such was a faculty we did not have and sprinted off to catch up with pack.  Through the Charlestown locks we went, waiting for a tit check (though trail was arguably solved).  We emerged at Paul Revere Park and has a song check under the Zakim, before BC2 at North Point Park.

Leg 3: On-In probably begins with “C” and rhymes with “Shortside”

With strong inclinations towards an ON-IN, we headed down Cambridge St.  Those of us following trail had a minor detour via Otis while Gimp and Gnome zenned to Courtside.  Shits also attempted to zen, but promptly went the wrong way by a mile.

Circle:

Visitors were called in.  Crimes against caninity were called in, to be met with multiple rounds of Bestiality’s Best (Boys!).  Virgins were demented.  We asked the conditions of their ski slopes.  Wrangler gave a Faulknerian level of backstory to asking a Virgin about his Uncle Jacking off a Horse (he would!).  The virgins couldn’t find the dollar menu or do math.  We rejected them for being unacceptable, but we took them anyway.  Just Jimmy, who had been c*ming for a year but with the consistency of Bob Dole’s pre-viagra erections, had not been named.  His most embarrassing sexual story involved keeping a cop away from his automotive tryst through a Titanic-like hand print on the window fog (“My C*m Will Go On”, I screamed.) allowed him to finish.  Another story revealed that Just Jimmy had gone to a kink convention in some unlikely place like (C)Rochester and was doubly penetrated by his 2 girlfriends with strap-ons.  He was thusly christened Strap-On Strap-Off and we never heard from him again.  Clit Notes was called in for a sweat test failure.  We swung low and Courtside pizza was served.

-Sex: TFF