SFH3 Run #1855: Ugly Christmas Sweater R*n
|:||Front and Pacific, Sydney Walton Square Park|
|:||Tuna on Top & Cockamole|
|:||Do Her Well|
An unusually chill wind blew through the Embarcadero, and Big Cock Chains tightened his sweater around him. Most ugly sweaters were not serviceable (though Big Cock Chains had to speculate that the three ties Eyeful Hands had superglued on his might be useful for something), but his had been artisanally crafted by the barbers Douchicorn frequented, so it was quite warm.
Trail thus far had been bog standard—Resting Slut Face had been a tad upset when Good Shit Lollicock rode Resting Bitch Face up the stairs to Coit Tower, and a minor explosion from down south was likely Hand Pump’s phone blowing up with all the texts that he couldn’t read. US Oh Oh Oh had convinced MUG and Kitchen Impossible that Safeway was a better drink stop than most bars, and to be fair it was more entertaining than watching thirteen year olds heckling hashers in the park. But, as Mary Tyler Whore pointed out, most things were.
Big Cock Chains sighed and continued on back to the start, where he saw Do Her Well uncharacteristically throw a drink to the ground. Usually she chugged them first.
Just Doesn’t Get It approached her as if to say something, but he grew pale and wan. “Ooooh.”
“Are you okay?” asked On All Fours with concern, pulling Cuming Mutha over to look.
“I am…” Just Doesn’t Get It coughed, and made a better attempt at a spooky voice. “I am the Ghost of Hashmas Past.”
“That’s because he’s old!” Cuming Mutha guffawed, before he too grew white. “We are the Ghosts of Hashmas Past.”
“No fair, I’m turning sixty today!” shouted Tricrapylete. “I’m old too! Why can’t I be an old ghost!”
“Disqualified,” pronounced One Night Only.
“Ooooh.” Just Doesn’t Get It and Cuming Mutha announced again in unison. “We are here to bring the past to life and show you the wonders of Hashmas through the years.”
“Look over there, oooh,” Just Doesn’t Get It pointed to Cum Guzzling Cockaholic, who was talking to Fuck Buddy. “Hashers from beyond the veil come to visit.”
“I’m really here guys,” the Guzz sighed. “I just wanted to say hi.”
“Yeah, and I haven’t stopped hashing.” Fuck Buddy groused. “You can not be here for a few weeks and not be a Hasher From The Past, you know.”
“Oooh, we have summoned hasher from beyond the Sea,” Cuming Mutha pointed to Butt Plug Fred.
“It’s just the East Bay,” Fred complained.
“Beyond the… sea!” Just Doesn’t Get It pointed to Blowqueen.
“Nice try,” Tears of Semen laughed. “We’ve been here for weeks!”
“So you see,” Just Doesn’t Get It moaned. “Ooooooh. Hashers will always complain.”
“Hey, are there two Hashmas ghosts around here?” Can’t Rush Anal popped up behind the group. “I got a sudden urge to be here, and I think it was that.”
Cuming Mutha and Just Doesn’t Get It high fived and disappeared.
“I hope he comes back soon, I need a ride home,” Do Her Well muttered.
“Yo, were you looking for me?” Ska Skank rolled up.
“Not in particular, but we’re glad you’re here!” Backside Banger gave her a warm hug.
“I have business with Do Her Well. I’m the Ghost…”
“Of Hashmas Present.” Do Her Well finished. “Shouldn’t that be Cockamole and Tuna On Top? I mean they did set the trail, and they’ll be able to tell me how hard they worked to set a great trail and how everyone missed the Turkey Eagle split and how much bitching they had to hear about it and how that doesn’t really matter because everyone is drinking beer and happy now.
“Well that sounds pretty boring, and you kinda already said all that to yourself. No, I’m the Ghost of Hashmas Presents, duh… like this one.” She flung a small pink object into the crowd. Mouth Down South and Cockagami caught it as one and their eyes grew wide in excitement. It was the fla-bongo.
One by one hashers lined up to take a chug from the flabongo, Skankton behind Five Angry Inches behind Ru Ru Rimmin. Dead Whore Fucker tried to organize Just Bridget, US Oh Oh Oh, and My Little Porno, but the harriettes found that their instincts were leading them astray, and they opted to follow Bierectional instead.
“Okay, I’m getting the picture. So where’s the Ghost of Hashmas Yet To Cum?” Do Her Well tugged on Just Antony. “Is it you?” She swirled around to point an accusing finger at Just Zach. “Or you?” Eyes wide, she confronted Just Bridget. “Or you!?”
“Please. I don’t even know what a Trash is yet,” Just Bridget scoffed.
The Perfect Woman helpfully twirled Do Her Well around a final time and pointed her in the right direction. She stopped, stunned for a second as she gazed at Gondalerrhea and My Little Porno, and the bright reflection coming from My Little Porno’s left hand when Dick Simmons frantically flashed his camera.
“Oh. Oh!” Do Her Well paused. “I don’t understand. Hashmas Yet To Cum? Is he pregnant?”
“Hah,” My Little Porno laughed. “No, no. We’re together because we love each other and we want to be.”
“So why are you representative of the hash’s future, then?” Do Her Well wondered.
“Because we represent the eternal hope of the hash.”
“Beer?” asked The Uniballer.
“Bailey’s?” asked Cream Chugger.
“Ridiculous bullshit?” asked Miss Delivery.
“No, no, no.” Gondalerrhea chuckled. “It’s the hope that in this group, be it romatically or physically or friendshipically, you will find the people that really and truly get you. That you’ll have true friends that accept you, with all of your flaws, love you in spite of them, or even because of them. That you’ll find your family, but better, because when you bump into them randomly on the street you’ll actually be glad to see them. Even though both of us are perfectly wonderful people and probably could have developed a relationship without the help of beer and hecklers. But still. The hash was there.”
Shaft and Cowlick gave a smattering of applause, while Fuck Norris wiped a tear from her eye.
“Well that was touching,” Masterbaster grunted. “We good here?”
Do Her Well looked around at the group, enjoying their beer and guacamole trees. Cool Handjob Luke laughing at a joke, Fucker plotting the quickest out to the bar, Pepe Le Poop going back for seconds at the keg. Reverse Schoolgirl and Weekend At Abba’s talking about their holiday plans, Stinky Floss smiling at the rest of the group that she had been away from for too long.
“We’re good,” Do Her Well grinned at Big Cock Chains, who raised a beer in her direction. “Happy holidays.”