On the twelfth day of Christmas, blah, blah, blah, twelve hashers pubbing (St. Auggie Boy, CliffBangHer, Duzzy Cum, Dick Smoker, Liquor/Poker, Headcheese, GladHeAteHer, 2 F*ck Canuck, Numb Buns, Help Me I'm Wet, G Spot, Sticky Fingers, and Just Dash) met in beauteous Valley Park to partake of pre-holiday cheer. After a brief and uninformative chalk talk, hares StAB and DS led the pack (minus Just Dash, who was imprisoned in the car for the duration of the evening) on a grueling trek across the parking lot through mediocre shiggy to Donahue's, where a number of pitchers were consumed. Gladdy gleefully swilled the last drops of combined beer and spit, photographed his crotch, and then the pack was off again.

More mud, more rain, more beer, this time at Shooter's 141, fortuitously located within shouting distance of the Christian Science Reading Room. 2FC graciously snagged a copy of some of the fine literature from the reading room for the edification of the pack. The hashers were joined by late-cummers Postage Tramp and PMS, who were both sporting the ever-popular "Santa's balls are attached by giant springs" style of cranium gear. There was much grumbling in the pack about rain and the lack of checks of any kind. To compensate for the latter, Numb Buns provided a "secret" chick check in the bar while claiming that she was "cocksided." The majority of the pack was off again, to be joined eventually by yours truly, rescued from being left behind in the ladies room by 2FC and L/P.

We set off to find the pack, guided by Cliff, whose sense of direction and ability to follow sign are legendary. After a hike of what seemed like 40 miles in the pouring rain, we ended up at Meremac Jack's, site of the on-after. We picked up later late-cummer LockNut Monster, saw Strap On (clap, clap) Strap Off in her finest Mary Poppins attire, and then headed back the way we had cum. We managed to find the circle, which was (as advertised, Cliff) cleverly hidden under a bridge. We slid down a muddy embankment on our asses and joined the rest of the pack. There we were treated to a number of hashers "watering" a Christmas tree, StAB reading a fine piece of poetry, and a circle that RAN OUT OF BEER. Sweet. The hash adjourned to the on-after, where many tasteful and festive gifts were exchanged. Hard to say which gift was better: Duzzy's green fuzzy dick/balls/wooden shoe combo, or Cliff's "Low Rider-esque" froggy.

Respectfully and tardily submitted,
Sticky Fingers