Wizards, Wankers, and Rednecks!

We had a crazy run on June 23rd!  Starting at the Waffle House, with 15 or so idiots dressed up in various wizard and/or redneck outfits...  Everyone lined up to see what TurdinHand, Just Sonny, and Just Roni (TurdinHand's mommy) had set up for our run.

We began by duct taping beer cans together and building staffs of epic lengths, with the more ambitious drinker's quickly gaining prestige.  By the time the hounds finally began the chase, some staffs were five or six cans in length.

The run began by going through the Days' Inn parking lots before backtracking and leading the pack beneath the Stock island bridge (where we found the beerstop had been consumed by some local inhabitants).  The run showed promise of actually finally getting off of Key West, but the hares chickened out and manuevered trail back into the depths of New Town where everyone promptly got lost.  While searching for trail, we discovered a visiting Harriette, Epicenter Butt, and her tagalong Virgin (honor to finding cute Harriette's on trail!!!).  Who were probably not impressed with our 20 minute search for marks at a bad check.  After Just Grant telephoned the hare's asking for clarification (really, this is absurd and needs to stop) marks "magically" appeard behind us connecting the trail and the pack was able to proceed onward.

Shopping carts appeared at some point on trail, and we had redneck drag races in them for several miles before Nursing an STD almost killed the Tyrant by flipping him end over end across a parking lot.

Trail wove into the ghetto's of the trailer park up near the Poinciana Mobile Home Park (as appropriate for a Redneck trail) and as it began to get VERY dark, the pack finally got to the canal behind the trailer park.  After hopping a tetanus inducing rusty chain-link fence, 3 hares proceeded to ford the water, while the majority spent a half an hour trying to figure out how to keep their dainty feet dry.  In the end, the trail shortly came to TurdinHand's apartment, where all dry hounds were sprayed down with a hose to equalize the situation.

Circle was held, and after a few minutes a few of Key West's finest arrived to tell us that TurdinHand had failed to warn his neighbors of our rowdiness.  Just Sonny engaged one of the cops in an armwrestling match, and the police agreed not to arrest anyone if Sonny was victorious.  When his manly beard proved to be well earned, the pack was free to relocate to the parking lot behind Sears, where we continued circle for several hours...  drank over 300 beers, and renamed our good friend Just Dustin as "3 Inch Troll Slayer" on his final KWH3 run.  Honor to 3"TS, and may he have luck in Hashing for years to cum!

Respect to the Hares for getting the pack wet and dirty, and for laying trail with reasonably good markings...  but please make sure you clear On-Home sites with the local's in the future.  Our OnSec will not always be there to protect us from jail.

On~On!

Wankers and Scoundrels, the following is the true account of June 18th, 2012:

Ten or so various hounds arrived at the pavilion behind Salute’s at Higgs Beach around 6pm, with “Shut the Fuck Up” and his unmentionable (“Weapons of Mass Destruction”) sauntering in thirty minutes later.

With no virgins, we had a healthy seasoned pack, so the Tyrant glazed over the basic rules and trail markings for a Pick-Up Hash.  This would prove to be a grave mistake.

By decree, the Hash Gods chose “Shut the Fuck Up” as the initial Hare for the event, probably due to his tardiness.  With a seven minute head start, off he ran carrying beer and chalk, running down the road and failing to give the hounds a nice beach run near the surf.  This was his first failure.

The pack finished consuming Nectar and proceeded to chase the hare, hoping for a nice easy run and several turn-overs of Hare responsibility.  It was discovered very quickly that STFU had chosen to mark in blue chalk, and only lay one mark every six blocks…  with that mark being a hard-to-see hidden Check.  The pack was lost within one minute of trail commencement.  NO MORE BLUE CHALK FOR HARES!

With Fartacus taking off in a random direction, and Banana ButtPlug following him like a horny dog, Nursing an STD sprinted ahead to see what he could find.  The Tyrant, Marilyn ManHoe, carried the middle flanks and organized a sector-search pattern with the remaining hounds in the middle, while Just Lori and Just Dustin walked slowly (to cover our rear and prevent us being encircled and cut off from supply lines).

When no trail was found, the pack figured “we must be heading to Shanna Key!” and we were woefully depressed when we ran all the way there and discovered there was not a BeerCheck to be seen.  With this, the hounds backtracked and spread out in a V-for-Victory formation and found a hidden TrueTrail mark on the back of a lightpole 12 feet off the ground.  Once again feeling sporty, off they ran only to be lost again when two different hares were standing on two different checks at two different intersections…  and nobody knew which was further into trail and which was leading to the other.

While ManHoe ran on a 6 block sojourn down Seminary Street to the West of the Weather Research Center, Fartacus found a blue True Trail mark hidden on a curb immediately next to a check.  He proceeded to abandon his Tyrant and led the pack all the way down White Street to the intersection with Truman, and when no marks were found by this point…  Tyrant ManHoe found a mysterious BeerCheck marking in the same color chalk he was holding outside of Fausto’s Food Palace, where the pack procured a bunch of StrongBow’s to rehydrate themselves as they began the backtrack to Higgs Beach, giving up all hope on running trail.

As the pack neared the abode of “Pleasure Me Orally” loud Hash-worthy singing was heard emanating from her shower window (don’t tell anyone, but she lives at 1410 White Street), so the pack pounded on her door until she agreed to join us for the Hash and off we sprinted for the On-Home/On-Start site.

At the beach, the Hare was found…  he claims to have run this route.  and Religion was held as the sun set over the beach.  We welcomed Banana ButtPlug as a transfer from D.C. (although it took him three years to find out Key West had a Hash), we Swung Low, and the pack proceeded to Shanna Key (where we wanted to go all along) for wings, Guinness, and debaucherous good times.

So there I was (fantastic, incredible, holy hellfire, shit, tell us about motherfucker, Hey)  sweating my balls off and finding it hard to breathe due to the elevation of the parking garage.

The motley collection of hashers slowly trickled in, some sort of accounting of those present was taken, monies collected and refreshing nectar started to flow.  I will blame my account of this hash on  the flow of nectar and my perception or rather imperceptions for the obvious.  These thing make this a completely accurate, true, even legally binding account of the first running of the KWH3 under Haj Marilyn ManHoe.  The hares consisted of COCKBREAKER, Just Lori, and Anal Sandwich for this evening.  We had every assurance this trail would be much different than the previous debacle that was the previous regular hash.

Our newly anointed Tyrant blessed our wanking hares and they were off.  After a full 47 minute wait, the pack was in pursuit.  They were in an all out sprint, and by all out sprint I mean a leisurely walk to the first mark which happened to be a whichy-way.  The pack quickly realized this was going to be as well laid as the last trail.  Yay for us.  After hunting for
marks and the entire group gathering at each intersection and waiting for one or two hounds to run out the bad trails, we eventually made it down the waterfront and along the quay wall.  At this point the pack decided to divide and conquer.  Half of the pack stopped at the first beer stop and partook of the nectar whilst the rest of the pack went in search of air conditioning and additional nectar.  AC and hydration would be found at Irish Kevins.

After quenching thirsts and photo ops with tourists the pack  regrouped and were off again.  Trail lead off again over to Truman annex, Local "helpers" told our virgins the "guys setting trail" paid them to not tell us where trail went, but they would tell if our virgins paid them more.  I believe there were sexual favors exchanged at this point and still no info.

After a hosing off of some of the pack by the guy washing his car, we were off once more.  Fartacus, CheMo, and Shut the Fuck Up decided to Zen through Bahama village, we ended up in the middle of Pride Fest and found more of the life sustaining nectar at 801 Duval.  After several phone numbers were exchanged by multiple hashers and the staff of 801,  we were off.  Zenning again, Fartacus stumbled on a T check and was rewarded with a lovely pink ribbon.

After another five miles of wandering the streets of KW all somehow stumbled upon the finish which turned out to be the beginning of the run as well.  Reeeeligion!!!  CheMo was e(r)ected as Hash Trash, Just Sonny passed the FRB chain to STFU just before being chosen as the new OnSec, and this is where it all gets a little fuzzy for me, Accusations were made, too much nectar consumed, we honored and welcomed Ribbed For His Pleasure who transferred in from Guam, We swung low and we all went to Finnegan's Wake for the on-after.

ON ON,
CheMo