The GM is Dead!!! Long live the Tyrant!!!
Honorable Hare, Hounds, Wenches and Bastards of the Key West H3!
If you were (un)fortunate enough to miss the run this last Saturday, I will attempt to explain the trail here:
Just Dustin, Just Dustin’s Unmentionable, Copt-A-Feel, and No-Cunt-Troll were our hares and trail started in the vicinity of (but not on the grounds) the Key West cemetery. The theme was Monsters and Banana Hammocks and Bikinis and Blood (or something). There was a little confusion on that end. But anyway, we had a pack full of scantily clad idiots covered in fake blood ready to run all over the island!
Somehow, the four hares had a mild confusion of their own going on, and forgot to lay marks from the Box to the first beer stop. With the pack scrambling in all directions trying to recon the area, Nursing an STD somehow garnered inside information and directed the pack to Finnegan’s where we had our first Beer stop and scared the locals with our ghoulish appearance. From there, we were able to find a trail to follow. There was apparently a statewide chalk shortage (or maybe the exceptionally long trail caused a run on local suppliers) as the hares had only enough chalk available to leave on mark approximately every six blocks.
From Finnegans we got lost and ran past schooners wharf on our way to every bar on Duval. Mass confusion and lack of marks allowed us to keep a leisurely pace of a 7 minute mile while Fartacus tried to steer the pack to an on-home sight before dark. As the hounds were running down a dark alley downtown, the sounds of banging headboards and lusty screams drew us to invade a local domicile where we discovered two of the Hares mid-coitus!! They welcomed the pack into their bedroom where 4 Inch Spike demonstrated the validity of his name as he attempted to join the couple.
After we drank all the alcohol we could find in their kitchen (Thumper downed the remnants of the Vodka bottle in one glug), we proceeded on trail with the promise that it was almost over. It was not. A drunken Thumper Humper dove off the Southernmost Beach pier because she was so bored with the run and broke her ankle, forcing the hounds to filch a shopping cart to push her around in. Fartacus called the hares and demanded to know where Religion was to be held, and we safely maneuvered the pack into the Bare Asset’s parking lot after a short FOUR HOUR run.
The pack was so upset with the mismanagement’s granting permission for the trail that a vote was called and Fartacus was sacked for gross dereliction of duty. In the power vacuum, Marilyn ManHoe gathered the MilTree members of the circle (Thumper, Anal Sandwich, and Chemo… to name a few of his most trusted) and successfully installed himself as the first ever TYRANT of the KW H3! The GM is dead! Long live the TYRANT!!!
If you were (un)fortunate enough to miss the run this last Saturday, I will attempt to explain the trail here:
Just Dustin, Just Dustin’s Unmentionable, Copt-A-Feel, and No-Cunt-Troll were our hares and trail started in the vicinity of (but not on the grounds) the Key West cemetery. The theme was Monsters and Banana Hammocks and Bikinis and Blood (or something). There was a little confusion on that end. But anyway, we had a pack full of scantily clad idiots covered in fake blood ready to run all over the island!
Somehow, the four hares had a mild confusion of their own going on, and forgot to lay marks from the Box to the first beer stop. With the pack scrambling in all directions trying to recon the area, Nursing an STD somehow garnered inside information and directed the pack to Finnegan’s where we had our first Beer stop and scared the locals with our ghoulish appearance. From there, we were able to find a trail to follow. There was apparently a statewide chalk shortage (or maybe the exceptionally long trail caused a run on local suppliers) as the hares had only enough chalk available to leave on mark approximately every six blocks.
From Finnegans we got lost and ran past schooners wharf on our way to every bar on Duval. Mass confusion and lack of marks allowed us to keep a leisurely pace of a 7 minute mile while Fartacus tried to steer the pack to an on-home sight before dark. As the hounds were running down a dark alley downtown, the sounds of banging headboards and lusty screams drew us to invade a local domicile where we discovered two of the Hares mid-coitus!! They welcomed the pack into their bedroom where 4 Inch Spike demonstrated the validity of his name as he attempted to join the couple.
After we drank all the alcohol we could find in their kitchen (Thumper downed the remnants of the Vodka bottle in one glug), we proceeded on trail with the promise that it was almost over. It was not. A drunken Thumper Humper dove off the Southernmost Beach pier because she was so bored with the run and broke her ankle, forcing the hounds to filch a shopping cart to push her around in. Fartacus called the hares and demanded to know where Religion was to be held, and we safely maneuvered the pack into the Bare Asset’s parking lot after a short FOUR HOUR run.
The pack was so upset with the mismanagement’s granting permission for the trail that a vote was called and Fartacus was sacked for gross dereliction of duty. In the power vacuum, Marilyn ManHoe gathered the MilTree members of the circle (Thumper, Anal Sandwich, and Chemo… to name a few of his most trusted) and successfully installed himself as the first ever TYRANT of the KW H3! The GM is dead! Long live the TYRANT!!!
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