"Mirror, mirror, on the lake. Who do I trust when there's beer at stake?" Hand Pump watched as a swan glided by in the silence. Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder startled him.

"Deep thoughts?" asked Cuming Mutha. Hand Pump shrugged in reply, and they both wandered back towards the beer van. Jack the Ripper and Five Angry Inches were climbing into a tutu, while Just Get It Over With was already decked to the nines.

"I'm sleepy," complained King Of Bedbugs, rubbing his eyes. He spotted Do Her Well, stashing away some items Tuna had collected from the remains of the weekend. "What's up, Doc?" he asked.

"Looks like we made it," she nodded back, smiling. "Woo."

Hoseblower and Port-a-Hottie (emphasis on the a) pulled up, closely followed by Dickweed and Crabs. It wasn't long before the pack was gathered, in body if not in mind, and Vagina Dentata read them their rights before unleashing them to the wild.

Cuming Mutha led them deep into the woods, circling around lake and dell. A small grove appeared with a light shining upon figure. After a brief remembrance at Yoda, the group launched forth again.

Rocky Bowel Movement and Gobble My Ass sprinted to the front. Fuck Buddy was on their heels as they crossed through the woodlands to see the setting sun. Fucker and Shaft took in the view of the bridge as they dropped down towards the waterfront, while Dick Simmons just kept clicking.

Circle Jerk cut a fine figure in pink climbing the stairs to the beer check, where Cox Box stood with On All Fours and Cuming Mutha admiring the vista.

"I'm happy we made it through," Cockulus Oculus said triumphantly, hugging One Night Only. Ocean Spray, Wash This Asshole, and Muff Daddy grinned at the sight.

"Well, I'm grumpy that this is my last home hash at SFH3," One Night Only replied.

"Think of me," Geordi La Foreskin told her. "These wankers all think I live here since I'm dopey enough to visit multiple times a year."

"Whoever says you can't go home again, hasn't met SFH3," The Perfect Woman chimed in.
 
The crowd returned to the Palace of the Fine Arts, with Medium Sized Balls of Fire toasting Little Red Riding Hood while Return to Gender and I Eat Ass took in the magnificent architecture.

Eventually the crowd settled in requiring not one, not two, not three, but four RAs to handle the willful hashers. Cockamole, Vagina Dentata and Tuna found not even the fierce whistling of Crabs could calm the masses, so they had to call for aid from Cuming Mutha.

Doling out condoms, Cuming Mutha forced the miscreants in line, and put On All Fours at the forefront. In unison, they unstripped their condoms, fisted the opening wide, and forced the barriers over their craniums.

Immediately five condoms broke (remember backup birth control!), but several hashers were still inflating.

"I'm sneezy!" complained Just Doesn't Get It as his flew off into the air. The rest continued, undeterred. Eventually all had failed except for On All Fours, who kept blowing bigger, and bigger, and even bigger.

"She's going to pass out!" Someone screamed.

With a bang, the condom exploded after reaching the height of Cuming Mutha himself. The crowd erupted, and at last the RAs could have some order.

"Let's bring up Just Charles!" shouted Crabs.

"Aww, I'm bashful," admitted Just Charles, who introduced himself as one of the fools to do all 12 Days of Hashing. The crowd probed him long and hard, and eventually learned so much his tutus and his sack that they had to rename him as Ball-erina.

And so it was that Cuming Mutha and his seven foolish hashers (Bashful, Sneezy, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Doc, and Sleepy) departed into the evening to catch a good night's sleep.

The End