I left him approximately four drops of bourbon and cider. These were the first Olympics. We were gonna press on, and we were going to have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny fucking Kaye. Hashers shed clothing and downed beers. Each team of mighty warriors was pitted against one another to see who could destroy the pitchers the fastest.
That is to say, there were quite a few rolling hills. Raw Deal was haring and a raw deal was what we received, as the hares led us straight to Velie Park up the steepest of fucking trails in all of Moline. But as soon as the miser had the gun, he pointed it at the robber. Always respectful of the rules, we gathered in the circle until all hashers were accounted for. There was no blessing of the trail or Pledge of Inebriation…. As you bitches all well know.
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Seriously, its just a matter of time before someone says, "Dude, Thats my friend Josh" or some other stereotypical jewish name. And like gay marines, we came out of the shig scathed and scared. Someone finally sang a song to Rearview about small boobs. Flaccid cocks headed don 24th avenue. Mama, we were so ready to yell and point at those virgins in your absence, and we did! With the greatest 5k known to man done, we circled up to crown our winners. Even the graceful turtle and a bamboo-chomping panda are in attendance drinking alongside cats and monkeys.
Then, sometimes, said Burton, you should just fucl. And here, we can see one of the higher order primates — this one a silverback named Scatastrophe — jumping from the top of the highest point. Duchess Kate in rose Gucci for gala. Then we found ourselves in the shig once more, surrounded by trees. If you do not guard your mouth closely, your true thoughts [which are supposed to be secret] will all escape. And lose the trail we did — first thing and very well.