Hitting save is very important... database sync isn't working and I am lazy
|What:||Hockessin Hash #1127 - Last of the Winter!|
|When:||March 19, 2016|
|Where:||Delcastle Recreation Center, Wilmington, DE|
|What: Hockessin Hash #1127, Last of the Winter!|
When: Saturday, March 19, 2016 at 3:00 pm, HST
Where: Delcastle Recreational Center, McKennans Church Road in beautiful suburban Wilmington, Delaware Who Hare: Bunion Butt
Friendlies: Dogs, trail should be fine, fake ID required for all dogs at Apres.
What Else: Hash Cash is still five bucks, Cheap!
D'erections: From I-95 take Exit 4 to Route 7 northbound. Follow Route 7 north for about four miles as it becomes Limestone Road and then crosses Kirkwood Highway (Route 2). Cross Kirkwood Highway and then after 3/4 mile bear right onto McKennens Church Road. Stay on McKennens Church Road, crossing Milltown Road, and turn right at the sign for Delcastle Recreational Area. Drive around until you see Hashers. Park. Hash.
OR: Search for 970 McKennens Church Road, Wilmington DE 19808. Call Bunion Butt should you have questions.
Do Me On the Beach
Kum On Inn
The International House of Virgins
Tits of Steel
Trail Order Bride
|Trash for Hockessin Hash #1127|
So, the slobbering pack met at Delcastle Recreational Center on McKennans Church Road in beautiful suburban Wilmington, DE for the “Last of the Winter” hash on a genuinely wintery, mid 30-ish degree afternoon of March 19, 2016 AD. Hashers I remember being present included: Wet Lay, Bunion Butt, Do Me On the Beach, Skidmarks, Lost Penis, NecroPheelMeUp, PubeHeAteHer, Cousin It with Famous Jack, RaidR, Kum-On-Inn, Trail Order Bride, Devil Woman, Woody, Butthead, Dead End, Toxic Shock, Spunk Monkey, International House of Virgins, Tits of Steel, Miss Piss, Dancing Fool and . . .?
Our hare for the day was the illustrious Bunion Butt who happened to be celebrating his 69th, minus 9 birthday and was summarily donned with a pretty, pink sash to remind everyone that he was still fabulous as ever. As some of us fondly recalled, the last trail that Bunion Butt was responsible for happened to fall on the coldest fucking day of the year, so it was no surprise that as we stood around the parking lot sipping our shitty beer, it began to snow. One could surmise that Bunion just likes to bring the pack closer together to share body heat and cold germs, but eventually the love-in was dismantled by our RA Skidmarks who called us together for chalk talk. The hare either likes pretty colors, or predicted a heavy snow fall as he had used orange flour to light our way with the promise of a Shot Stop (yay!), a Beer Near (yay!), some checks, fuck-you’s and whatever else’s (meh ...). So, without further ado, the pack sauntered off following the true trail arrow into Delcastle’s great beyond.
We readily identified some bright orange marks on the trees and were on our way down the paved path through the park as Spunk Monkey asked that age-old question, “Why didn’t I wear pants today?” Trail soon had us darting out of the park and playing Frogger in traffic as we crossed a road and eventually cranked a left into another part of the park near the golf course. Here, a tall red-sweatshirted figure was spotted pouring cups of Kahlua Mudslide on a park bench. It could’ve been any random park dweller of course, but fortunately for us, Bunion Butt had cum early. We lingered a while at the Shot Stop as Bunion insisted on fully satisfying us with entirety of his creamy goodness. Eventually we swallowed, wiped our faces off and stealthily left the scene.
Trail brought us to a check with Woody heading right, Pube heading left and Cousin It heading into the golf course. Turns out, Woody was the homing pigeon of the day (for now) and we were headed right into an all-houses-look-the-same neighborhood. After disrupting the quiet of the surrounding community for a while, we headed back into Delcastle along the paved path until marks ran out in a field (thanks, Woody) and “Wait ... isn’t that Bunion Butt over there in that parking lot?” (thanks, Pube). It was indeed the second cumming of Bunion Butt and the Beer Near was upon us. Eventually everyone traversed the massive expanse of the field to join us partaking in the canned-piss bounty that the hare had provided for us. We did not linger long, for someone mentioned that the air was getting “moister,” which set off alarm bells that it was time for new subject matter and to get back on trail.
Trail headed through a parking lot graveyard and behind some people’s back yards where Spunk tried to rip down a tree and we all wondered why we were taking the long way back to the cars. Complacency had set in at this point, for though we recalled that Bunion’s last freeze-your-balls-off trail had involved thick patches of razor-sharp weeds, we all though, “Hey, this isn’t so bad. Has Bunion gone soft?” Oh, contraire ... suddenly marks headed into a forest of shit and we found ourselves in thorny hell once again. “This is completely unnecessary,” became the phrase of the hour as we tried to find ways to burrow through the briars and avoid a tetanus emergency walking over the rusty fence. Lost Penis was almost completely lost in a foot of mud as we heard Skids’ whistle in the distance, either announcing where to go or that he had been swallowed up by some man-eating foliage. At last, a hole in the atmosphere appeared and we were spit out just in time to climb up a fuck-you hill that brought us back to the cars.
Circle was short and sweet to no one’s detriment as the cold, wet slobs dragged their asses from under tailgates to stand in the snow/rain mix long enough to rush through some song lyrics. Skids drank for being first in while Cousin It served as stunt liver for his pooch and actual DFL, Famous Jack who apparently thought that if he ran slow enough, his human companion might just let him hang out in the car instead. Silly pup. Woody, who often ignores anything resembling logic, had obviously ignored the weather report and decided that shorts were a good option, so he joined Skids in leaving some blood on trail. Interuptuses drank, some having had the plague for weeks and not remembering why they all of a sudden decided to cum out today, while Dead End drank for auto-hashing in his sparkly, yet bird-shit-on new set of wheels. Spunky sang a new song for Dancing Fool for keeping our trail clean and “green.” Two fools had the nerve to have birthdays this week, Dancing Fool and our hare, so they were given a proper “Fuck You!” and finally our hare drank for fucking us over on his shitty-ass-you-thought-there-wouldn’t-be-shiggy trail. At last the hash got a piece. Following circle, we all spent 15 more minutes in our warm cars while waiting for Famous John’s to open, then feasted upon many, many pizzas and many more beers and varieties of spirits. Pickle Dick and Port-a-Ho joined the party for a while and Port-a-Ho lent us her Cards Against Humanity to make the evening that much more debaucherous. All in all, it was another shitty trail. Stay tuned for Hockessin Hash #1128 this Saturday.