MountainBeers Trail 74 - The Shittiest Hash on Earth
by Free Sexx
Trail 74 certainly lived up to its name. The shittiest hash on earth was the Oregon Trail of hashes. There were massive trail wounds, rivers forded, animal skulls, and Cock Fight died of dysentery. Double Dribble even overdosed on head (who said head?). The blood, sweat, and tears of the MountainBeers still lines the streets of Morgantown on the morning after.
The tears began at Gene’s, the MountainBeers’ favorite garden. Doctor Flatus made his triumphant homecoming after four long months of inspecting the Euopean kennels. Many masculine tears were shed as the hounds wept with joy at his return. After chalk talk, the grueling journey began in earnest. The first hash crash occurred by the second block. Raunchy Reverend tripped over his own giant feet and determined that the cement sidewalk was the best place for a clean landing. He was wrong. He spent much of the first leg of trail holding his finger to keep it from falling off of his hand. Sidewalk: 1; Reverend: 0.
We continued through South Park with nary a wrong turn. The hounds briefly lost sight of the trail beneath Mexi-Can-I’s house until someone shouted “There! Across the pipeline!” We crossed the mighty rapids of Decker’s Creek without losing a single hound to drowning. We quickly lost trail again because apparently three white on-ons means false trail. We climbed another snake-infested hill and finally arrived at the first Shot Check.
Shot Check #1
It only took fifteen minutes of combing the woods before one of the virgins found the bottle hidden under a tree. The MountainBeers swiftly quenched their thirst with a bottle of Burnett’s. Doctor Flatus entertained us with a sexy rendition of Hamlet using a deer skull that he found in the forest.
We immediately lost the trail of chalk after the first shot check. The hares led us through the woods, but doubled back to Forest Avenue under cover of shrubbery – sneaky wankers. The hounds trekked back through downtown, frightening many confused onlookers with their shouting. Across the bridge we stumbled upon a new mark – the FU?. Fuck it, we split into three groups and followed three separate trails through First Ward to the next Beer Near at the home of Well Drilled.
Beer Near #1
The hares provided us with another giant FU – Miller Lite. Burning Bubbles, a travel hasher from Colombus H3, told us of the tales that granted her three out of her five hash names – Burning Bubbles, Filthy Whore, and Squirts in Circle. The remaining MountainBeers slowly trickled in during this lengthy stop because almost everyone was lost following the FU?.
Surprise, surprise! The half-minds at MBH3 lost track of the trail two blocks into the third leg. They scoured the graveyard for any hint of white powder for fifteen minutes to no avail. Turd Burglar had hidden the next on-on behind a car around the corner and three blocks down. The piles of flour took us through some beautiful nighttime shiggy in the woods behind White Park.
The second shot check once again filled our bellies full of Burnett’s. We really should look into sponsorship.
Holy shit, we lost the trail again after we left the third booze stop! Ninety-percent of the MountainBeers pushed on through the woods without any flour to guide them. With no sight of trail, many decided to start walking back to Gene’s. Instead, they accidently found trail again on the other side of the baseball field and followed it to the graveyard. The hounds trampled over top of their long-dead ancestors in search of lost treasure, which was hidden behind a crumbling mausoleum. We were having so much fun that Ezekial von Boozehound burst from his grave and joined us for the final Beer Near.
The MountainBeers were finally called in to circle at Gene’s Beer Garden after just under eight miles of shitty trail. Virgin Alvi was feeling a tad beerlemic, so he emptied the contents of his stomach so that he had more room for beer – great strategy! The hares were of course called in to circle for such a shitty trail. Masocreme was called in circle for excessive erection of the nipples. As such, circle closed with a titillating nipple contest. I’m not sure who supposedly won, but we all lost just a little bit of dignity that day. Shit hash.