Key West H3 Hash Trash, 16 May 2015

Hare: XSNRG

The Hash began behind the courthouse, with the shockingly delightful sight of XSNRG wearing only a handmade Crown Royal banana hammock.  Delightful until he turned around and displayed that goddamn harry ass, and knowing even Key West couldn’t handle that backside, we made him put on clothes for his anything-but-clothes trail.  Speaking of which, fail to (most of) the Hashers!  What, didn’t any of us go to college?  XSNRG was highly upset at us, admonishing that we have been wanking of a lack of spirit and creativity and fun at KWH3, and then we don’t even shed our clothes!  We have a responsibility as Hashers!  Yep, he preached of responsibility as he rode off towards Walgreens to get the chalk he forgot.  As we waited, a car full of people drove up.

               “RU?”

               “On-on!”

Yay, more visitors!  They proceeded to park in such a way to get their bumper stuck and pull out the fender.  Maybe they were embarrassed at their shitty driving.  Maybe they were angry they just caused a thousand dollars of damage to their car.  Maybe they saw Mu-sic in his towel, Chocolate Covered Cherries in her sheet, or 4 Inch in his pillowcase.  But they immediately left, never to be seen again.

We (finally) began trail, through the million dollar houses of Bahama Village.  Beer Check One was uneventful, and then Beer Check Two was… beerless?  On a Duval side street, about five houses deep, the hash looked everywhere for the promised nectar.  Mu-sic suggested we look inside a ratty-ass cooler sitting on someone’s porch, but fortunately Ménage a Neuf’s eyeroll sent out a sonic blast preventing anyone from checking.  Well, either that or the three huge dudes that were sitting around the cooler, daring the strange people invading their hood to come steal their beer.  Soon (a relative word), the Beermeister arrived, and the crowd calmed from its rising tizzy.  There was much teasing HNIC about his punctuality, but in retrospect, why would he hurry?  If you were strolling down Duval on a trike full of beer, you also would change your life philosophy to “it’s not the destination but the journey that counts.”

The Hash continued with a super-classy tit check outside of an ice cream store (yes, when our GM erased the chalk titties, there were children sitting outside the shop).  It’s okay, though, because there was a dick check a block later, and another tit check a block after that.  The Hare snared himself at the first dick check (“I was thirsty!”), constantly telling us about the five miles he had just run with his amazing turkey-eagle spilt (so glad he put on shorts, can you imagine that purple bag flopping up and down as he sprinted Duval… oh wait, that’s pretty normal here).  Next was a bit of getting lost due to Just Bradley (fucking non-named Hashers!), and then our final dick check where our only visitor Jersey Asshole (still no idea how he got that name) decided to go across the street, hidden between two cars to show us his junk.  Of course, 4 Inch was the only other person possessing a penis with us slower group of ladies, and he probably didn’t want us comparing.

Then we circled.  Because XSNRG forgot the sacred drinking vessel (responsibility, Hashers!), we drank out of a nasty-ass safety cone.  Seven Shooters kept calling himself “RA” because he was leading circle, to which Mu-sick and XSNRG were mightily offended.  Mu-sick was also butt-hurt that he couldn’t find the markings on the eagle trail, while everyone else had a blast on turkey.  It was Thar’s birthday, and we all told her to fuck off.  Then Under Table Junk Grabber drank in celebration of a name she can tell her parents.

Ah, Hashers.  You literally can’t please all of us at once, no matter how hard we keep trying!

Love, Just Steph

At White St pier, the tutu themed Bash was kicked off as Conchsibitionist kneeled before BMF… ahem… our hares BMF and Conchsibitionist kneeled before our esteemed RA XSNRG.  We then met two virgins, Just Cristoff-mon and Just Chuck, and were joined by three Columbian wanna-be virgins, their voluptuous leader proudly and loudly displaying a beer-filled coffee mug, begging to come with us.  Sadly, without bikes, they were left behind in the vast and desolate beaches of Key West.  

A beer near was found soon, and from there two different stories.  Some say a homeless man stole the pre-set beer, others say the hash just missed it.  But shortly after, as the hash bore down on our hares, an impromptu beer stop suddenly appeared in front of Manhoes.  Wait… don’t we know the people who live at Manhoes?  And aren’t they hashers?  Hmm, apparently the “I’m sick” excuse used earlier wasn’t coordinated with the roommate, who called out Little Slit That Could and Limp Locomotive as having left on the scooter earlier.  Fail.

On on!  Two shot stops followed, highlighted by the presence of two police cruisers at each shot stop.  Finally, we arrive at the Coast Guard base on Trumbo for circle.  There were a few charges, including the hares marking an “exchange bikes” stop too much like a “music” stop.  The hares also paid for their shitty fucking trail.  Then the virgins (four, we picked up a couple on the ride).  First were the two who came via hashers; Just Cristoff-mon pleased the ladies, and Just Chuck led us through a pretty awesome traditional Hawaiian chant.  And then the random virgins gave us all a show with Just Drunk Girl (sorry, couldn’t understand her slurring) standing with her bewbs pushed up and out of the bra, panties shoved to the side, and her boyfriend (NOT HUSBAND, NEVER GETTING MARRIED… that wasn’t slurred…) wearing her sun dress and nothing else.  **Sigh**  Too bad, because these clown babies would be textbook hashers if it were remotely possible for them to remember anything from the hash.

And finally to the good stuff… the naming of a hasher!  And not just any harriette, but our beloved Just Maggie.  She proudly dropped trau, flipped up her tutu, and sat on the ice.  I make no promises of the accuracy of those statements.  Except for the fact that she has had a fist up a penguin’s anus.  I definitely heard that.

At the deliberations, Traveling Fister came first, then “Dead Head” related shit.  Then Penguin Fister, which evolved into Terrapin Fister, and Flaming Fister and Dead Fire Fister. The Q&A was reviewed, more personal stories were discussed, and then XSNRG was struck by the lightening of Zeus.  He randomly said Dead Travelin Fister, and clarity settled upon the KWH3.  DTF.

Congrats, DEAD TRAVELIN FISTER!

On after at Backspace, with the patio reserved (cornhole!) and 2 for 1, followed by the obligatory Don’s (jenga!).  What a shitty fucking night.

After a full day of drinking brunch at the Hot Tin Roof with Rumspringa and her better half, Just John and I marched to the local CVS to buy the required uniform of the day’s hash:  Granny Panties.  Yes it’s true, Just John did own granny panties in the past, but due to the unhygienic skid marks those horrible underthings were voted unacceptable for the public eye and promptly set afire on a Viking burial ship.  Eventually we then made our way to the on-start at Shanna Key ready to join circle promptly at 6:30pm.  Yet……..it was not to be.  Since several wankers decided to no-show due to their alleged copious alcohol intake sometime in the previous 24 hours, there was then a mad scramble by the fully costumed hares (4” Spike and Menage A Neuf) to obtain the (un)Official Record Book and the Sacred Drinking Vessel from two separate locations.   I should mention that 4” was wearing the sexiest granny smock/dressing gown I have ever seen and somehow Neuf managed to cram all of his abundant package into some very silky granny panties.  Anyhow, never one to linger aimlessly, I cracked a can of sacred nectar and started obtaining Hash Cash which was then temporarily deposited in the waistband of my own voluminous striped granny panties.  Finally, circle was called and the Hares were Blessed appropriately.  Some introductions took place for benefit of the virgin Just Chase and the returning hasher Tiny Testes. Some disappointment was discussed at the lack of tit and/or dick checks.  Some excitement was expressed at the introduction of Jell-O shot checks! And then we were off!

Trail was very straightforward.  And by that I mean every mark could have been a true trail mark when you really think about it.  Every. Single.  One.  I actually saw a few people nodding off while running/walking.  We started with climbing some razor sharp coral to go traipsing through a promising bit of shiggy in the form of smelly seaweed on a private beach.  Shortly thereafter, we had our first beer check at Salute’s.  Realizing this was a good sign and that our beer would be cold at the beer checks today instead of lukewarm in garbage bags on the side of the road that may or may not have been stolen or pissed on by Key West’s esteemed homeless, morale lifted.  Then more trail of the boring nature.  A silence fell upon the pack much like the silence of the KWH3 Facebook page when a hare is called forth to run the next week’s trail. After stops at Don’s Place, the shitty Barrel Head bar below Thai Island, and my house for the liquefied Jell-O-shot check, we ended at Shanna Key once again.  Once all had gathered, the RA laid trail to the parking lot next to Shanna Key and then we circled.  Due to time constraints and yipping of the pack for virgin blood, only 5 or 6 accusations were made.  The hares were called out for their shitty (long!) trail, the fake whichy way with the true trail mark on top of it, and the shitty, shitty liquid Jell-O shots – some of which contained Fireball, Jim Beam, AND vodka.  No wonder they were liquid. They were so disgusting, there’s still a full tray sitting in my fridge right now.  Actually, as of now there’s a little less than a full tray, but I’m writing the damned hash trash so I’m allowed to have a few at 11am.  Conchcebitionist, XSNRG, Mu-Sick and some others were called out for tech on trail.  A few non-participatory wankers were called out for not participating in the granny panty theme, which definitely confused the non-hashers we ran by.  FRB HNIC was crowned/chained.  Virgin Just Chase was made to cum by Bahama Mama Fucker and the chicks were given additional fodder for their spankbanks.  Some other chatter happened and then circle was closed because we had to make it to erections before people started passing out in a drunken stupor or nominating the chickens in the parking lot for MisManagement.  The on-after was split between Shanna Key and then Don’s Place, where hundreds of people had gathered to congratulate us and then afterwards see the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight.

Erections Results:

GM:  7 Shooters Up the Ass

RA:  XSNRG

Scribe/Hare Raiser/Hash Trash:  Conchcebitionist/Just Maggie/Just Stephanie

Haberdashery:  Begging Brother Banger

Hash Cash:  HNIC