Hounds: Dirtbag, THFKAD, Poptop, Laurel, Bodsa, All Holes Hoping, Stinky Queef, Dr Queer, Nice Snatch, Willy W**ker, Tubslut, Ditch Bitch, Bockman Turned Her Over, Certified Performance Anxiety, Gay Underway, Just Jen, Just Annie, Kneels for Jizz.

The trail took us out Sperm Bank's backyard through a field and into a playground. We cut into some bush there, where several of us decided the briar patches were infinitely more interesting than the clear cut paths. And so, first blood was drawn. Emerging onto a road, we ran on the side of the highway until we cut back into brush. Almost immediately, we were rewarded with the first beer check in an old barn. Not content to limit our criminal trespass to the first level, we all climbed the stair and played in the loft until the beer was gone. We left all the empty cans atop a handy rafter for later recovery.

Back on trail, we found many roadways and a long assed hill. Check points were few and false trails were long, stringing the pack out. We found a car on the roadside, which was abandoned by the walkers. Fools. Trail stayed on the road for a very long time after that. Admittedly, we did have a spectacular valley view at hilltop, but that did not serve to sway our hare-targeted venom. At the high power line cut through, the FRBs caught up with the walkers. The clever hares delayed the pack further by laying the trail alongside the road in the tall grass. We got scent of the trail and ran further up the never ending road to a history lesson. We encountered a suggestive fountain, and a home that had once served as a barracks during some ancient conflict (The French and Indian war, it appears.) When we hit a bridge over a ravine, we finally came off the road and found the hares huddled in a culvert with beer.

The entire pack crawled into the culvert to join the hares, but more so the cooler. After consuming some more beer, the hares left down the ravine. The full pack followed shortly after, enjoying the echo in the culvert during the singing of Yogi, Inches, and Shaft of Fire. It was to be the last dry land we would see for an hour. McCavity had promised a beaver check, turned out to be the wrong kind of beaver. We followed a creek for ages, deftly avoiding farmers and dogs, slippery rocks, and fallen trees (due to voluminous beaver activity.)

Finally, at a beautiful swimming hole, we found the lazy assed hares seated next to the blessed cooler of beer. The pack, now very strung out, slowly made their way in, except for two FRB fools who r*ced in. Stinky Queef suffered a rather spectacular demise to his efforts to be first in when he belly flopped into the pool. We drank beer, swam, exposed ourselves, and decided to have a pre-circle to name our 5 time runner, Just Kirk, as he would be skipping circle when we got back. Poptop also told us that he would be leaving shortly after getting back, so we decided he should drink for skipping circle again.

Getting back was a medium walk out past a waterfall to some stashed cars. From there, a 4 mile ride brought us to the Palace du Sperm for circle and some wonderful Madri Gras themed Cajun food. All hash cash was donated to Habitat for Humanity for reconstruction of areas devastated by Hurricane Katrina.

On-On!

If you have anything to add, send a note to thfkad@hmhhh.com.