The TriFUCTa Hash
Hash #83 was something of a debacle. It was aptly named the Trifucta Pete Hash for the abnormally high numbers of Peters haring—Kickstand, Genital Manager, and Cummando Cobbler. Our setting was the lovely Pratt’s Falls on a lovely pre-summer June night. Pre-lube and circle went without incidents and the kennel went On-out with the usual confusion about what the trifucta lie ahead.
Running through tall grass and woods and the usual shigtastic scenery and all was well—or so we thought. As everyone milled about at the first Beer Near, which was actually in the parking lot where we started, things started to get trifucted up. A rumor started to float around that we had lost a virgin. Yes, a virgin had disappeared unbeknownst to much of the hash. Now we like virgins and all, but really most of us are not all that attached to them yet. So we barely knew them and hardly noticed their absence, but someone brought them—and I may be looking at you Flesh Flaps—so I guess we kind of had to keep track of them.
As the hash went On-out and began finding checks and false trails, it seemed we had no hares who knew where trail was. Even our lovely RA who always maintains a sunny disposition seemed to be showing some frustration and dropping some F bombs. It was a Trifucta hash afterall.
Finally trail was found and hares returned with the information that the virgin left because of a tummy ache from running and drinking beer. What the Trifucta? So from there it was a typical trail of woods and water. The hash waded along through a stream and eventually arrived at the base of the Falls for the second Beer Near. It was a trifucting picturesque spot and lots of pictures were taken.
And then trail resumed and the hash made their way back to the On-in and circle. Hares were called in no less than three times for a shitty trail (or rather a trail with no hares!)—appropriate since it was a Trifucta Hash. The virgins who survived were welcomed and Flesh Flaps drank for hers who did not. There were down-downs for the usual nonsense and when one Pete drank, all Petes drank. So they drank a trifucting lot. And then the hash went in peace, possibly to get a piece.
On after was at Knoxie’s Pub where Snidely directed traffic. Food and merriement were had for a trifucting good time.
Respectfully submitted,
Came with a Fake Name
