I approached this trail with some trepidation. After all - it was being set by some SOB who hadn’t been seen in over a year…

As I walked along King Street towards the start location I encountered New Shoez. A few short blocks later we found the Beer Check. I was relieved to find that our hare obviously hadn’t forgotten everything that hashing had taught him and had chosen a BC that suited the high class Hogtown crowd – the Peel Pub. Hopefully we wouldn’t be eating there as I had just recovered from my last bout of botulism and had forgotten my Amodium at home.

As we approached The Toad in the Hole, we were nearly run over by some out-of-control driver. As expected it was Dead End, who had mounted the curb in order to get our attention. She asked where we had parked to which we replied, "Nowhere." This reply confused our teacher for quite some time. Concerned that Dead End hadn’t actually spoken in a full two minutes and fearful that the pressure might build to a breaking point, New Shoez finally offered the following hint: "We didn’t drive."

As Dead End drove off in search of a place to illegally leave her vehicle, I walked into the Toad to see which half-minds had already arrived. As I strode through the front door, someone informed me that there would be a co-hare for this evening’s trail: Spanks for the Mammaries.

Mrs. Robinson’s personal secretary had obviously gotten the days of the week mixed up yet again. It seems this himbo had incorrectly informed Mrs. R. that her sewing club was meeting tonight – even though we all know that Monday is a Hashing Day. However Mrs. Robinson appeared to be making the best she could of this incredibly embarrassing social faux pas. She was sitting at the bar in full hashing attire, surrounded by heaping mounds of red material, thread and tulle, happily drinking a pint while stitching.

I approached Mrs. Robinson, intending to chastise her for her appalling hiring standards. Sure - her secretary might be the splitting image of Brad Pitt, but what kind of idiot confuses a knitting circle with a hashing circle? And so what if he serves her breakfast in bed without his shirt on?!? And I think she once mentioned something about daily hot oil massages… Needless to say, by the time I reached the bar I had completely lost track of this employee’s numerous faults and cunningly inquired if Mrs. Robinson was planning on firing her himbo anytime soon.

As I stood there admiring Mrs. Robinson’s handiwork, Sex Toy came up and informed me that Mrs. Robinson was in fact working on her DC Red Dress gown. Apparently these two domestic-minded harriettes had been corresponding by phone all day long on this very subject. As they sat at the bar, giggling and attempting to decide if their outfits would be best complimented by ruby stiletto heels [if you click your heels together, someone takes you home] or crimson cowgirl boots [ride ‘em cowboy!], I shook my head in disgust. As a good friend of mine once so accurately stated, "Women. You can live with them and sheep don’t cook."

We soon set out on trail and I was shocked to find Weak Link running at the front of the pack. This harrier had been complaining for weeks about some type of blockage located in his male reproductive glands. He had consistently claimed this "condition" was the cause of his slowness. Apparently he had somehow managed to unclog his drain during the last week and was now once again able to run with the best of the FRBs. Although curious, I refrained from asking Weak Link if had found relief from this illness single-handedly or if he had in fact used both hands.

The trail took us along a number of downtown streets and around the Sky Dome. It was here that I first began to doubt the mental faculties of the hares. While the pack was crossing a bridge, Side of Bacon turned to Sex Toy and asked, "Are you sweeping?" He had, apparently, already forgotten what Spanks for the Mammaries looks like.

Not to be outdone, Spanks chose to embarrass herself a short time later while the pack was lost at a check near the theatre district. She turned to me for advice and asked, "So if I know where the trail goes, should I be helping out?"

At this point, Sex Toy and I decided to shortcut the remainder of the trail and headed straight for the Beer Check. Here we encountered two other like-minded lazy-asses: Shampoo and New Shoez.

Back at the Toad in the Hole the following half-minds received down downs:

Side of Bacon and Spanks for the Mammaries – for being the hares
Side of Bacon – for his B-day
Weak Link – for finally resolving his "blockage" issues
Mrs. Robinson – for attempting to cut off her finger with a razor
Mrs. Robinson – for being domestic in the circle
Dead End – for not being able to spell
Adolph Vice and Bumsteer – for being back-sliders
H2Ho – for letting a virgin run away

On On
H2Ho