We started by hitting the beach and heading east before zigzagging all over the south end of New Town. There was a beer stop or two and then we arrived at the construction zone for the new High School, and as we crawled under the fence to sprint across it… Turdinhand was busy trying to convince the crazy old woman who lived next door not to call the cops on us.
The pack drunkenly stumbled along trail until we found a True trail mark pointing straight north from South Roosevelt and across to the Palm Avenue Causeway. Squirts A Lot insists she marked trail for us to do a short 15 foot swim and get out on some pier, but the true hasher’s of the group were unable to see her pitiful marking and we swam that half-mile of tepid water filled with the guts of cleaned fish and were welcomed by a security guard by the bridge.
One of the virgins was friends with Jack the security guard, and so he told us to get lost before the cops came. So, we ran across the bridge to the west side of the channel where the hare’s had left us another beerstop and quickly drank all 40 cans of brew. Some people tried to swim that last bit, and were run over by a charter fishing boat that angrily refused to give way to swimmers.
The Tyrant pushed for the crew to leave quickly, before the police found us and because it was starting to get a little dark… so the pack started jogging west again on trail. We quickly found the arrows pointing us into the Peary Court housing area, and were hopping fences and evading military police. Several of us became covered in shaggy and chiggers, while bounding between fences and from backyard to backyard.
Now in the pitch dark, trail eventually exited Perry court and we became lost in mid-town before finally arriving back at the base of the Aids Pier where the hares appeased us with massive amounts of beer and even provided snacks and cakes! This should be a lesson to you Key West idiots that if you can keep all the beer stops cheap (as in, NOT at a bar) there’s cash leftover for food!!
Religion was a beauty, the Tyrant refreshed the pack with the legend of the LA “Guidelines” and many breasticles were seen. All 32 of the virgins were welcomed, and business was attended to. The pack named two of our long time fellows, and it is with great honor and pride we welcomed The Gilded GILF and Flaming Mother-Fucker to our family. Religion then swung low, and we all headed out on the town wearing our terribly offensive t-shirts. Snoop Dingleberry drunkenly promised to write the hash trash, but he must have gotten beat up on a street corner because the Tyrant never heard from him again.
Hopefully all you clowns make it out to the next run!! On-On!!