Hash Trash
MountainBeers Trail 50 - Lube-alicious Hash: Say Goodbye to Baby Lube
by Free Sexx
Gene’s Beer Garden was a dim-lit bar positioned along the shady slopes of South Park. The dark nature of the venue was perfect for the group of misfits, outcasts, and wankers gathering within. The MountainBeers were meeting to say farewell to one of their own – a bespectacled young man with light brown waves crashing back on his head (who said head?). This would be the final night that Baby Lube would grease us with his lustrious presence.
The hashers gathered in the back room of Gene’s to drink in a hearty anticipation. Several virgins shared a puzzled expression at their strange surroundings. They wondered if they were to be ritual sacrifices to the revelry. The Pious Reverand Raunchy increased their curiosity by handing them each an inappropriate touch whistle. Well Drilled explained the significance of her new invention during chalk-talk. The r*les were simple. Blow your whistle and be molested from every conceivable angle. Raise your arm higher than ninety degrees and earn the same fate.
With that, the hares escaped the pack to lay trail. The hounds bounded through the quiet neighborhood of South Park in hot pursuit. A middle-aged woman in a red caravan slammed on her brakes, barely missing one of the FRBs attempting to cross the street. She stared open-mouthed as twenty of his compatriots forded Brockway without regard to traffic patterns.
Scores of flour marks led the Mountainbeers to their favorite book store – the Other Bookstore. The crowd gathered in the notorious dungeon for the first event. Two grey-haired men walked briskly passed the FRBs with their heads down and shame in their eyes. The air in the dungeon was thick with man-sweat. The walls were dripping with what the hounds hoped was only water. The only light emanated from the backlight of a large LED screen featuring flesh-colored figures generously sharing each other’s’ genitals. Baby Lube laid down for his role as the sole judge. One by one, the hashers took their turn as masseuse. The gang was serenaded by songs of ecstasy leaking out of the speakers. Double Dribble was the final contestant, which was a fitting choice. She gave him the happy ending that he had hoped for.
The party moved upstairs where the Reverand led a serenade of his own for the bookstore girls. “Why do all the girls love Jesus,” they inquired with a grin? For they know he’ll come again, came the enthusiastic response.
The next leg of the trail passed uneventfully. The hounds arrived at the second BeerNear in First Ward just as the darkness settled in. Entertainment and refreshments were served. Virgins were defiled. Baby Lube slid through the crowd and crept slowly behind one of the newcomers. Caught by surprise, the virgin didn’t know what to do. His innocence was stolen right there in front of a cheering crowd. Never again could he don a suit of purity. His family was shamed.
The hashers were soon swept up in a whirlwind of jello shots and sangria. This fuel would prove necessary, for the night was all uphill from there.
Up, up, up the hashers went, hot on the trail of the harriette. A small grouping of hounds stopped dead in their tracks. Directly ahead, at the mouth of the South Park loop, they sighted a shadowy figure, frozen in fear. The shadow prayed it had gone unnoticed. But alas, bright blue eyes reflected in the moonlight and flour dripped from her pockets. The hounds had their target dead to rights. They left a cloud of dust in their wake as they gave chase. Victory was certain. But this was a cunning harriette. The hounds r*n circles around the loop until they were dizzy. Two hashers were injured and two others were hopelessly lost in the aftermath. The harriette escaped unharmed.
“On-on!” they shouted, as they continued up the never-ending mountain. They finally reached the final BeerNear after precisely three eternities. They quickly rehydrated with their favorite beverage – beer. The stunningly beautiful brunette Just Danielle rewarded her comrades with pepperoni rolls. Her enchanting brown eyes sparkled with delight as the group devoured her gift within minutes.
The MountainBeers found themselves in one of the most respectable and sophisticated neighborhoods in all of Morgantown. They wouldn’t let it stay that way for long. The hares rolled out the slip ‘n slide down the hill. They doused the hillside with a mixture of baby oil, anal lubricant, and a little bit of water.
Such a majestic slide was not meant to be experienced with clothes, the good Doctor Flatus thought to himself. The Doctor’s naked body was halfway down the slide before his clothes landed gingerly on the grass. One, then two, then three, then four hashers disrobed with a fury. Five, then six, even seven or more found themselves in various forms of undress. They attacked the hillside with a fervor unmatched since the Battle of the Bulge. Streaks of flesh glided with little more grace than a paraplegic Dodo bird. Several survivors would be picking out twigs from their nether regions for days.
Circle was called before all of the bumps and bruises even had time to form. A rowdy, raunchy circle immediately formed around the virgins. There was not a dry inch among them. It was impossible to tell who was coated in a layer of babylube, mud, booze, or some other ghastly fluid.
