Down Down the Rabbit Hole feat. Slippery Prick

On a balmy night in April, hashers wandered up and down the Avenue of the Republic. We had heard there was a trail. And that chalk talk was around here somewhere, but… where? Our hares, Slippery Prick and Down Down on the Brown Brown had gotten the pack lost BEFORE the start of trail. Definitely a new record and extra impressive because this was Slippery Prick’s virgin BFM lay. Finally, we found Just Adam next to an almost-invisible chalk talk. He had been there all along, possibly sensing the presence of chalk talk (One of us! One of us!)

A largeish pack of hashers began to gather around the big gate thing near the Please Touch Museum. The scent of cherry blossoms drifted delicately on the breeze, and freshly vaxxed hashers hugged for the first time in over a year. We were naively happy and had no idea what the hares had in store for us at that point.

We started off and immediately came to a Turkey/Eagle split. The Eagle trail descended into a rocky, overgrown creek. As the pack picked and stumbled its way through, Shrub came flying past us, in danger of becoming airborne as Shadow pulled him through the shiggy. Eventually the rest of us emerged from the woods, dripping wet ;) 😉 xoxo

We coasted down a hill into the first beer near. 60k9 served up smoldering gargoyle looks for the camera while perched atop a post. Werk it! Dogs frolicked and music played from EDM’s speaker. Suddenly, Two Beds arrived at the beer near and flung a plastic Easter Egg at Slippery. Pastel colored jelly beans rained out, and like totally normal adult people Headshart and I thought “5 second rule” and ate them. 

The rest of the night was a mix of hallucination and reality. Where’s My D? and Bread Dicks pole danced on a streetlight. The pack crossed all the way to the far side of a bridge, answering a riddle asked by a troll to gain passage only to hit a Back Check and have to cross the same bridge and get quizzed by the same troll again. We plunged deep into an ancient forest and followed an endless winding path. Woodland creatures waved from the shadows and an enchanted tree even pointed Cuff Me in the direction of On-On. GML pulled half the pack over a vertical wall and immediately the trail led back down the other side of the wall. The second Beer Near was uncannily like a rave in our post-pandemic brains and the third Beer Near was uncannily like an On In. Nothing was real and yet, somehow, everything was.
​
In attendance was: 2 Beds 1 Nightmare, Roadside ASSistance, HeadShart, Sgt. Snatch Snitch, Down Down on the Brown Brown, Where’s My D?, Highway Whore, Me Shrub You Longtime, Slippery Prick, EDM, Gay Matthews Lamb, Wheels on the Bus go DownDownDown, Poly Pocket, Cuff Me the Vampire Player, 60K9, Just Adam, Bread Dicks Bread Dicks Everywhere, BonerTown, and Music to my Tears

Most likely to fart in public?
Sphincter grease
 
Most likely to lie to the police?
Cuff me
 
Most likely to win a Nobel Prize?
Two Beds
 
Most likely to remain single forever?
Everything ButtSex
 
Most likely to become a magician?
Poly Pocket, Bread Dicks, Bread Dicks Everywhere, Diltdo, and Two Beds
 
Most likely to lock themselves out of the house?
Where’s my D
 
Most likely to order pizza within the next 24 hours?
Sphincter grease
 
Most likely to be the first to die in a zombie attack?
Where’s my D
 
Most likely to pick up a person at a funeral?
Just Ali
 
Most likely to fuck in public?
Poly Pocket and Wheels
 
Most likely to be afraid of watching horror movies?
Cuff me
 
Most likely to lose their phone on trail?
Where’s My D
 
Most likely to Irish Goodbye?
Sphincter Grease and Poly Pocket Pocket
Honorary mention: Mouth Down
 
Most likely to move out because of a spider?
Cuff Me
 
Most likely to have an imaginary friend?
Sphincter grease, Poly Pocket, and Where’s my D
 
Most likely to be a horrible boss?
Fort Dix
 
Most likely to be attacked by a wild animal?
Diltdo
 
Most likely to get a face tattoo?
Diltdo
 
Most likely to set a Guinness World record for something?
Fort Dix and Sarge
 
Most likely to work in the White House?
Bread Dicks, Bread Dicks Everywhere
 
Most likely to be a parent’s favorite?
Music to my Tears and Bread Dicks, Bread Dicks Everywhere
 
Most likely to fight in public?
He’s a Lesbian
 
Most likely to get a stalker?
Where’s my D
 
Most likely to imprisoned?
Fort Dix
 
Most likely to have marry their best friend’s ex?
Where’s My D and Bread Dicks, Bread Dicks Everywhere
Honorable mention: Groundhog Lay
 
Most likely to live in the wilderness?
Diltdo
 
Most likely to work for NASA?
Two Beds
 
Most likely to stay longest in the bathroom?
Poly Pocket
 
Most likely to be an undercover agent?
Wheels and Just Joanna
 
Most likely to sleep naked?
Shrub and Sarge

It was deep into quarantine and the middle of virtual Mayor's Cup distance week when our beloved Tits of Steel volunteered to lay an actual trail for the hungry hounds of the Ben Franklin Mob. Little did we know that she had something planned to the benefit of us all. 

Social distance has not historically been a trademark of the hash, but sacrifices have been made for the safety of you wankers. (Because we truly love all of you!) To that end the trail was dead laid and open to any willing to brave it solo, or for double-arm's length packs at 1pm and 6pm. It is unknown if any solo hashers attempted and survived trail (Has anyone heard from 3Balls?), but the early start was tackled by Jug Stain, Under the Siege, and their fair and feisty spawn Squishy and Ice Ice Baby. There was some tortoise play and certainly more shenanigans as well. 

The late start, albeit still early for the BFM, began just before 6 when Shrub found excellent parking for the day's bag car and wandered into the square to pre-lube. The next to arrive was none other the 2Beds 1Nightmare who realizing he had 20 minutes left to spare made the most rac*ist decision to take off immediately to acquire a "couple" more miles for distance week. Thankfully, Shrub was not alone for long as Cuff Me arrived followed shortly by Groundhog Lay, Just April, 60K9, Wheels on the Bus Go Down Down Down, Music to My Tears, her virgin Just Martin, and Gay Matthew's Lamb. The normal (never normal) pre-trail discussion consisted largely of Zoom etiquette experiences, a discussion of the most offensive movie clips, and Groundhog's friend who is writing a letter a day to Gov Cuomo in an attempt to reopen gym's in NY (I mean if it worked for Andy Dufresne's Shawshank prison library...then why not?). Following 2Bed's return and a quick facebook check for late cummers we decided to get on with it.

Chalk talk began with a review of the normal marks and a reminder that Tits laid trail on roller skates...wait, she laid trail on roller skates? Yes, on ROLLER SKATES! What could go wrong...at least we can be sure of no shiggy. The packed headed on out towards the river and around a curve away from a playground where hold on...where is half the pack? Five hounds went almost immediately NO-NO, but whatever, we'll see them again in the middle right? The remainder of our already small group found the correct trail (at least we thought so) and navigated across the river towards Franklin Field...missed a check and had to sniff back to find the way. We were led down a no pedestrian access road (again she did this on roller skates!) around Penn Medicine and were witness to many health care heroes donning masks and the liftoff of a life-flight helicopter. At this point our blood was pumping, we were not at all nervous about exposure so close to the hospital workers, and we were thirsting for an impromptu beer near as we exited the medical center area and headed towards the main Penn campus. It's college, so there must be beer available somewhere right?

Alas, my fellow hounds, we did not find beer. We did however find the other half of our pack who had truly done the end of trail backwards. After barely any discussion, it was decided that trail had been accomplished by the group and we would ON-IN directly from there seeing as Tits might have underestimated the impact of rolling resistance on mileage. But hey, she did great benefit for the BFM in Mayor's Cup distance week! The last couple of masked miles were accumulated at a leisurely pace while Just Martin enjoyed his nuts (he had apparently squirreled them away for just this occasion). The pack made it back to Fitler Sq to find Statutory Consent and the suspiciously of-age Just Shane for an impromptu BN out of Shrub's cooler. With our thirst quenched the pack disbanded to return to a digital existence and a circle via Zoom.

We are deliberately returning to the world fellow hashers! This trail was so shitty it almost felt normal and it is wonderful to at least see half of your faces from as close as six feet. Until next time...ON-ON!
​

 
It was a special treat that brought the slobbering hounds out to South Philadelphia for the first trail of a new month, and it had nothing to do with the return of the second laziest on-sec from Mis-Man 2019. No, my lovely harriers and harriettes, the draw was from promise of a trail to be hared by our very own (and reliably slow) Cause for Blindness!  In a precursor to International Women’s Day, she set upon the streets to flex her prowess and prove that neither gender nor age can constrict such a “queen of hashing” (accompanied by her helpful Knight of the Pound Table) from laying us all to waste with flour a plenty.
    
Not only were your regular cast of characters such as Cuff Me the Vampire Player, 60K9, Poly Pocket, and Not In My Hair enticed to cum, but a few visitors as well.  Gulliver’s Tranny and Hare Today Cum Tomorrow both made their way out from the chocolate scented hills of H5, Just Jackie trekked the tremendous distance from GrittyH3, and Cuff Me aroused a virgin (Just Chris) to venture a taste of our antics.  As the pack collected on the second floor we saw the likes of Everything Butt Sex, Groundhog Lay, AssAssInNation, MeShrubYou Longtime, Sergeant Snatch Snitch, Wheels on the Bus Go Down Down Down, Nibbles A Clit, Main Line Bukkake, The Angry Inch, Tinkle Belle, Jug Stain and Just Christine.  A few pre-lubed with beer (though none were drinking Coronas), and the bravest embraced each other in the way of hasher greetings. There may have been more, there may have been less, and there may have been some who need not be named…counting is hard and hugs are easy so some were clearly preoccupied.
              
The hares set off a little early and this trail began like most others with a description of the marks. The floured alphabet was nearly as legible as Cause’s accusations are coherent and it drove a cuneiform pun out of one of the more educated of us (they must have a three-quarter mind!). Groundhog Lay bunny hopped about the marks and explained the best he could to the newly identified visitors and virgin. The murmurings of a short and shitty trail emanated from the pack and we were quickly on-out to discover trail was not what we had expected.
              
Moving south one block, trail then turned west through some Philly shiggy (CAR!) and we quickly came to a song check. It seems that our hare was nervous of getting caught and rapidly brought us all close so EBS could lead a few verses of “El Camino”.  The excitement of the night’s venture really needs to be experienced in person.  The warming air of an approaching spring fills our lungs and the padding of our hounds down streets, through alleys, and into parks is our rhythm of the night punctuated by interesting sights.  Notable happenings were the pack giving a wide berth to our very own coughing Bukakke, Groundhog discovering an enchanting deep blue sea set into a basement window and later remarking about heat therapy to cure koala-mydia, Wheels stopping to admire a pussy, some uncoordinated group butt stuff, Sarge finding an ambulance that surprisingly did not yield the hare, and an additional six song checks. Yes…six…more…song checks. Our trail RA that night was remarkable and managed all resources to fill the air with melodic musings.  We sang of team work, and Poly’s description of some sex on trail inspired our “favorite things”.  In Hawthorne Park an empty Modelo can mocked our growing thirst and EBS egged us on to continue our “B-EE-RR-U-N, beer run”.  Soon after we sounded off about a soldier’s duty, a fondness of fun in the kitchen, and simply AAAAAAAA!  The hounds were now drooling over the thought of liquid sustenance. Hare Today Cum Tomorrow remarked that our hare ought to be named “Cause for Thirstiness” and Shrub contemplated that the night’s trail might be just drier than Cause’s wit.  Alas, the pack pressed on for there is no quicker a route to beer than to solve the marks and find trail true.  

Cause may be a fan of “North by Northwest”.  Perhaps is it the film’s prevalence in her formative years, the moistening inspiration of Cary Grant’s striking features, a fondness for all things Hitchcock, or a shared lust for adventure.  But whatever it be, may also be driven by a desire to go down (possibly on a sailor or two), because the pack found that all marks led south and west in turn until we struck a wall at the naval yard…south by southwest of our originating point.  Our intense thirst turned to resourcefulness and we made short work of the remainder of trail to quickly arrive at the BN…a bar known as Callaghan’s which has nothing to do with brake pads or sales trips. Inside the bar the most physical of us such as Jug Stain (who seems to find trail by either a sixth sense or sheer force of will) and Main Line were already sharing refreshment with both the hares and Diltdo Dragons (who is far smarter than we are fast).  Camaraderie and revelry are corner stones of the hash and a BN is the perfect chance to chat and catch up with friends and fellow hashers. 

The night was short and there was more trail to be had, so the hares reminded us that there was still a SN to find and outed themselves from the bar. We continued to enjoy the end of the beer and having given enough time to ensure another many song checks we left to regain the scent of our hares once more, anticipating that we would be led back in the direction from whence we came.  What fools we were The arrow showed further west and led directly around the corner to a secluded pull-out where Knights was loyally guarding the SN while Cause laid the remainder of trail. Trotting up, Shrub voiced concern that we had given them so much time and Knights must have been sitting out here in the cold for 20 minutes. No sooner had the word passed his lips than our gallant armored champion remarked “I’ve been out her for 20 minutes!” We passed around flagons of whiskey and fruity pebbles vodka knowing that no microorganism was safe from the proofed alcohol, and watched as some of the previously unmentioned trail phalluses came together to form an immense chalk member akin to either Voltron or the Power Rangers (depending on the viewers age and level of nerdiness). The remainder of trail went by quickly, but more so for some than others. Fortunately, all the hounds found their way back to the start where they also found Just Ali and Two Beds-One Nightmare who had cum late, but at least they came at all.

Circle was kicked off with commending Knights for his chivalry in accompanying Cause to keep the grim reaper at bay and then the regular observances of hares, first/last in, our virgin, auto-hashers and comes lately(s). Regarding visitors, we lost Hare Today, but gained Just Jackie who flexed her musical seat to much delight and Gulliver’s Tranny sang for us of why he was born so beautiful.  Accusations a plenty satiated the packs grievances and thirst. Half-minds were called out for use of nerd names, sitting in circle, marking trail, and defiling cups. We discovered that Sarge can’t spell, Wheels is overly generous with the use of beads, and somebody marked trail with a bunch of dicks.  60K9’s birthday was celebrated with a compulsory side-side and circle closed to bring our night to the beginning of the end.  This new hash year of the BFM is shaping up to be a glorious one and the early spring also brings brighter evenings to find the marks and chase the hares. Cum out dear hashers and be a part of the revelry for it is the hare that makes the trail, but the pack that makes it exciting.

ON-ON!

-Shrub

BFM #837 Cav's Rittenhouse

Trash By: Down Down on the Brown Brown (who's fighting Corona...jk..he's drinking one to kill his fever)

Hares:  Everything Butt Sex and Music To My Tears
Pack: Down Down on the Brown Brown, 3 Balls, Poly Pocket, Groundhog Lay, Tits of Steel, Not In My Hair, Jewels of Duh Nile, Fort Dixalot, Knights of the Pound Table, Cuff Me the Vampire Player, 60k9, Angry Inch, Tinklebell, Cream My Ream, Jug Stain, Judge Doody, Gulliver's Tranny's (H5), Just Joshua (BH3), Just Angeline (BH3).

Trash:

[Camera zooms out, to the narrator of this week's trash, shivering like a dying pocket pet in bed with covers up to his moobs]

[Wise, charming, sick af narrator sips his Corona while battling corona, coughs on his dog, and thrusts forward to tell his tale]

It was your average night when the pack assembled in Cavs.  Once we saw Groundhog Lay, stuffing his face with wings while engaging muggles, we knew this would be a true shit show (i think he would later poop on trail or at least get himself off in a porta john, I think that was the fellow's name).  The pack gingerly filled the bar, reported pupper petter and rac*st 3 Balls jogged in, then Poly Pocket (dressed to impress), Jug Stain brought her telephoto lens, Judge Doody graced us with his ferocious stache, the tall drink of water Gulliver's Tranny even showed up.  After a late start, because what good is a hash, if not for starting late, we circled up outside as Tits of Steel and kind of Groundhog Lay led a chalk talk that featured BFM's hash pupper Won't Cum for the Clap cleaning her anal glands all over the marks...what an attention whore.  The pack introduced themselves, the sexual tension rose, and off they went.

Almost immediately, the pack found marks and lost them...those hares EBS and Music to My Tears, such precotious hashers...we turned left, we turned right, tech on trail rung out into the night and after making 69 wrong turns, we were joined by Cream the Ream...he found us and trail.  Kudos to this very beer-dehydrated hasher, bc none of us could decipher trail.  As he joined and Down Down thought he knew where he was going--he did not--we realized we were missing someone and we also saw weird ass marks on the ground in blue chalk.  Fucking Jewels.

The Tale of Jewels

As the pack ran off in wrong directions, a cold shivering Jewels regretted wearing short shorts.  He knew showing off his thighs might be a solid move, but it was slightly colder than he expected.  He crossed street after street, looking scared and needing friends to drink with, but with every turn, he didn't find friends, just darkness and cold.

He made it to 30th Street Station, made friends with some food truck vendors, until they were jealous of his short shorts, and he realized they weren't really friends, they wanted him to come on tour with him and serve hot dogs.  Wiping tears from his eyes, he continued on to Drexel, drawing marks he knew would confuse his brother from another mother Down Down, and in turn the pack.  After grinding on the Drexel dragon, several more breakdowns along the way he found the Shot Near in some park and waited to mansplain his errors or success to the pack.

A Case of the Blue Balls

While Jewels was grinding on the Drexel Dragon, the pack was figuring out:

a.) who made the blue chalk marks
b.) discussing if the marks we're balls
c.) analyzing whether the long marks meant true trail
d.) wondering what cuddle puddle Jewels was in and wondering why some of the pack weren't there

They followed the new marks the best they could, and kept their eyes open for the sadistic marks left by the hares.  This was a science experiment with a only slightly happy ending (see urban dictionary, it's a thing) and no escape.

The pushed ahead into, idk where, somewhere by 30th street and probably thanks to tech on trail, found the Shot Near, which also had cookies.  There was much rejoicing, shots were had, the furry beast was let free to chase her--at time of publication--still alive but suffering owner around the grassy knoll.  It was a merry time, and the pack socialized like nobody else.  They went back across the river, with morale boosted and knowing they'd be back in the bar soon.

The River of Dream, the Circle Also Featuring Cream the Ream

The went made it across the river and down to the bike path, where some kind of tropical drink was waiting with more cookies, YAY...treats!  Groundhog Lay made some moves on the hash pup, she accepted, the pack thought about going down to the water but in their state, they declined.  After a bit of socializing and banter, they took off, only to lose trail.  The FRBs, 60k9, DDBB, Groundhog, Jewels, and wtf---Poly (with a interesting stride), considered going to Bonners but they realized they were almost back and then 60k9 had enough of Down Down, abandoned him and his pupper, and raced to Cavs.  As we got to the street...Won't Cum burst out of her collar almost went splat but was put back into her transport for a holiday with Magically and Sphincter Grease (redound trailer NOT included).  It all worked out and circle was commenced.

The hares took a lot of shit from the pack, but they're so likable (normally), that all-in-all, they were let off the hook.  Judge Doody is no longer a backslider...for some reason Just Angeline keeps cumming back to us (I was told it's bc of the pupper),   Down Down on the Brown Out...haha...was called into the circle for usual BS a couple times...who dat?  Jewels got called in during all three rounds of accusations, 3 Balls was commended for not leaving the pack, some evil af Barbershop Quartet was summoned from the hell that is Rittenhouse...it was beautiful and bootyful...Cuff Me the Vampire Player raised her voice...Tits of Steel led the pack in the shortest version of El Camino this experienced hasher has ever heard...and $5 was offered to swim across the river, most of the pack said they'd do it for 20?  Lol.

Food was order and sport drinking commenced...then...as we thought things were over...something extraordinary happened.  We found out it was Cream the Ream's birthday, and for spending the night with us (and for catching up, which again, is amazing), we decided to give him a birthday down down, so the hariettes, clumsily but successfully hoisted up Cream for a Birthday Down Down, almost dropping him twice--it's a custom here--and sent him off on his 22nd birthday way, as chocolate moose was had, and the parking lot transaction with the pupper was finalized. 

[The narrator passes out from sickness, spilling his corona all over himself]

A very fun, very COLD, very well-attended hash last week provided the first opportunity for me to write trash. Thanks!

​-Poly Pocket

BFMH3 trail #836
Location: Starboard Side Tavern, Fishtown
Hare: Knights of the Pound Table
RA: Tits of Steel/ Slothy Seconds
In attendance: Cuff Me the Vampire Player, Fort Dix, Cause for Blindness, Wheels on the Bus Go Down Down Down, Cream the Ream, You May Go, Down Down on the Brown Brown, Jewels of Duh Nile, Teeter Twatter, Gay Matthews Lamb, Tits of Steel, Slothy Seconds, Knights of the Pound Table, Poly Pocket, JustAngeline. Autohash: DILTDO Dragons, Not In My Hair, Jug Stain

We met at a bar called Starboard
In Fishtown so oft unexplored
Awkward greetings galore
Finally got out the door
Searching for trail and our liquid reward.

Beer near: regaled by You May Go
His naming story he did bestow
​He popped a girl’s cherry
Made her leave in a hurry
Surely converting her for Sappho.

Then a foxy lady named Tits
So cold she almost called it quits
Found a place for her thumb
So it wouldn’t go numb
Showed her wisdom quite infinite.

A check with a dire lack of dance
Saved by Slothy and her fancy pants
She taught them all to floss
Obviously the boss
Of this very odd circumstance.

Another stanza to feature our Slothy
Where she shared a little tune quite jaunty
Singing about cosmic sans
While scaring pedestrians
With lyrics both flirty and flaunty.

At shot near, our lovely hare Knights
Much to FRB ladies’ delight
Managed to blow his load
When his stash did explode
And while helping clean we all got frostbite.

BFM Hash Trash, BFM #835
 
Written By: Down Down on the Brown Brown
 
The Hares: Poly Pocket and Sex Toys for Tots
 
The RA: Groundhog Lay
 
The Pack:
 
Knights of the Pound Table, Me Shrub You Long Time, Down Down on the Brown Brown (DDBB), Roadside ASSistance, Everything Butt Sex, 60k9, Tits of Steel, Not In My Hair, Jug Stain, Sphincter Grease, Wheels on the Bus Go Down Down Down, Cuff Me the Vampire Player, Statutory Consent, Angry Inch, Tinkle Bell, Cause for Blindness, Cums In Spurts (Dayton H3), Repeat Offender (Shanghai H3), and after his first trail—ever—Just Shane.
 
The Trash:
 
Chapter One:  The Best of Times, The Drunkest Of Times
 
It was the best of times, it was the drunkest of times.  It was also the first trail of our new GM Cuff Me the Vampire Player’s reign of silence and unlimited rummy bears—that was definitely her platform, right?  On a snowless winter night, the BFM assembled--conch shell not included--at Drinker’s Tavern for what was expected by all to be a very shiggylicious trail.  Some would be disappointed.  Our hares Poly Pocket and Sex Toys for Tots graced us with their presence, or at least I think they did—I was encountering my hourly brown out—and laid out truly uninspired marks for chalk talk.  The pack paid no attention to the two soulless and sadistic hares and continued to drink.  Tonight’s RA Groundhog Lay poked and prodded the pack, encouraging them to follow him into the alley next to the tavern to do some activity called chalk talk.  I’m pretty sure Statutory Consent’s virgin was fully expecting to get diddled by a rodent.  Chalk talk was uninspired, yet somehow after hours got the pack’s juices flowing, pack members introduced themselves including visitor Repeat Offender of Shanghai H3 coughing on the pack, somebody had too much Corona while prelubing.  With the strong blow of a whistle, grunting, whining, and the as always late appearance of Cause for Blindness, the pack trotted off, heading due North, West, and South before, the racist pack members thrusted their way North towards a brooding true trail (full disclosure, I’m kind of turned on writing this rn).
 
Chapter Two:  Trail As Old As Time
 
The pack forcefully moved west, with Groundhog Lay and Down Down on the Brown Brown, overachieving as usual, on a normal night, that would have been fine, but as they raced into NPS property they realized the hares were expecting this and we’re already messing with the pack, because they saw a group of pissed off NPS Police either looking suspiciously at them or completely undressing them with their eyes, GL and DDBB decided they’d go with it, and began to cross the street to inform the police that flour was being dropped in the vicinity and also to see if they wanted to join the hash or engage in a cuddle puddle, two steps towards the street, the rejected the both of us—bummer man.  Sphincter Grease came sprinting next, followed by REDACTED and Angry Inch and Tinkle Bell caught up after wanting to avoid a potential arrest on trail, the rest of the pack joined for already the 69th song check on trail.  These hares we’re obviously focused on messing up trail.  A song was sung, banter was exchanged, and no handcuffs got slapped on, the pack then, led by Sphincter Grease and an unknowing Cause for Blindness grinded the fuck out of a statute outside a restaurant, before we turned down a street with puddles.  Because trail didn’t get him wet enough DDBB splashed through every puddle he could find and got himself so moist, no shiggy makes DD a dull boy.  The pack watched in horror before leaving him behind.  After a horrible front of pack mistake following a horrible true trail left, Everything Butt Sex saved the day and recommended crossing the street.  He was right, led now by the over-compensating-for-attendance Statutory Consent, we passed the Penndot Drivers Licence Center, where we lost Not In My Hair, who also kind of saved the day, and who reappeared after alone time.  After several sketchy crossings with close calls…we made it out of the Fashion District and Chinatown.  We poked towards Fishtown knowing full well we’d never make it there, hoping beer or drinks would show up, we are going to drink right?  Sure enough most of the smarter pack members, Wheels, Cause, Shrub Me, Jug Stain…frankly everyone BUT Groundhog, Statutory Consent, Just Shane, Down Down, and surprisingly Roadside ASSistance, turned around realized they were following no marks and caught up with the pack at….a SHOT NEAR.
 
Chapter Three: Death by Paint Thinner
 
The entire pack arrived at the Shot Check, except the hares, who later told me they were laughing and watching the torture that would follow from the hare’s vehicle.  FOR SHAME!  One by one the pack stepped up to drink from what looked like a bottle of paint thinner.  Knights of the Pound Table made a disgusting face and sincerely questioned the quality and flavor of what was inside before just putting some in his mouth.  Wheels enjoyed it, Repeat Offender did too, so did Cums in Spurts before he picked up some chalk and showed how big and intricate his Dayton H3 true trail marks were.  The pack was impressed…not your usual shape and size.  A shot exchange run by Sphincter Grease was a hit.  Shots were shared and that new BFM shot thingy was the tits.  The pack packed up and hit the trail, this is where shit got weird, the pack went down a tiny alley, they all stuffed in and fit, DDBB took chalk and drew a Pole Dance check which Statatory Consent grinded on, and Knights almost hopped on.  Then in realization that our virgin was becoming a Just, Cause decided to give her honorary hug and assess the new member of the pack.  We scared the whole alley way with our songs and gooble gobbles and caused a car to just stop, and then ran towards the river.  No one noticed that Groundhog Lay and Cuff Me had disappeared.
 
Chapter Four: The Final Count Down Down Down Down
 
DDBB overheard shit about beer can tabs, but thought it was a cool new young people thing.  Either a new bedroom position or medication, DDBB is getting too old for the latter, but shrugged it off, it was coming from Wheels and the eco-friendly Not In My Hair, DDBB finally reconnected with 60k9 who was admiring the big dogs locked in an office building by the river.  We slowly hit the river, where GL and Cuff Me, and the hares were waiting.  A short photo shoot ensued, so did some drinking, and the pack took off on foot, the hares (most likely by car), we passed the dogs again, 60k9 and Angry Inch reminisced and we’re clearly hangry and ready for trail to end, one uphill section…up stairs that is, and a straight away ON IN.  The pack made it back for a crazy circle.
 
Epilogue:
 
Circle happened, Virgin Shane became Just Shane, per usual the circle was out of control.  We were joined by Thud Muffin, Silence of the Goats who started accusing everyone and in turn found her home in the middle of the circle, and Two Beds One Nightmare.  It was glorious and DDBB remembers very little of it, probably because of the art form that followed Danger Can.  Sphincter Grease summoned a post circle, more like an oval, of complete dumasses who shook a beer can and bashed it on their heads, Knights gave it a valiant try while looking graceful, Shrub Me looked badass as he attempted to bust to no avail (see a doctor), Statutory Consent did a shake weight move and gave her noggin a tap but the beer can slipper didn’t fit, then DDBB looked like he was doing a lot of work but then gave his temple a love tap and pretty much just mocked the process before tossing the poor can back to Sphincter Grease who taped in the right spot and let the brew drip all over his Fire and Ice promoting face, followed by applause and beer money shot.

-Written by Award-Winning On Sec Down Down on the Brown Brown

Guest Trash by Johnny Dildonix 

I came out late one Christmas to the city that is literally the foundation of our democracy. Sadly, it's now becoming the foundation of my debauchery. The salty swill of the Schuhyll filled the air, and Hashers desperately flailed to find the check across the damned river.

What started as an unassuming urban almost-cajun trail quickly turned into a bumpercunt crapshoot as we stalled out after the first bar stop. Legend has it, the Penn bridge was the site of an "ant--ax" scare back in the W days and so on. In order to avoid another 3 letter agency visit, no flour mark's were to be laid across a .35 mile stretch of bridge. Noone in the pack remembered this, of course, until we called the hare. Apparently these wankers have never heard of fluorescent chalk.

We continued stretching a short trail into a long trail faster than your mom can deepthroat a cheesesteak, god rest her. We ran across the water again to find Penn state and the rumored 99 Bannanas shots near the campus med lab. Why do I do these stupid things to myself? After wanking harder than a frat on a weekday, we crashed past Drexel into a small side street for some gingerbread shotskis. By now I'm doomed.

After determining the on in is but a short jaunt away, the raunchy MFers go ape on some public bench swings, putting the BM back in BDSM...

​Now, safely shepherding to the home-bar like three drunk wisemen on a 5 day bender, the Hash has come to sing their awful Carol's and Karen's late into the night, salute their shorts and crush their kegs as the patrons wince and the staff regrets. These drinks just keep cumming. These a--holes made this Grinches bulge grow three sizes that day, and then shrunk it by 4 after an inordinate number of shots. I hope they wont throw me off the train until I make it back to my little village around 2 am for the ending ritual of WaWa hoagies.