Hashing since: 2010
Mother Hash: Portland Humpin’ Hash House Harriers
First made him cum: Captain von Poopy Pants
Our story begins with a time honored hash tradition: the virgin’s bunny. Because it’s not enough that we teach them about following flour marks, honoring wank and boob checks, and singing dirty songs. No, we have to give these poor, unassuming individuals a responsibility as well – protect the stuffed bunny at all costs. They look at our Hash Ass skeptically, but someone always steps forward (usually a wanker), and foolishly assumes this responsibility first. To the
rest of the pack, this is a sign of “Game on”. The virgins soon learn their fate. From the initial crues of “On On”, the assault begins.
Such was the scene at the 2010 Portland Humpin’ Hash AGM, back in the day when Can’t Finish used to bring more virgins to the hash than are promised to martyrs who die and go to Islamic Paradise. I can only imagine where Can’t Finish found these individuals, but they were particularly crafty that evening. You see, they had a secret weapon: one of them was knocked up. Consequently, they entrusted her with the bunny, foolishly believing that this would ensure its safe return to the On In. I mean, who would assault a pregnant woman over a stuffed animal? Well, it turns out that plenty of hashers would. Being the halfminds that they were, the virgins did not alert the rest of the pack to the fact that the aforementioned bimbo was knocked up, and therefore, it was still “Game on”.
Enter Plan B. Hashing for several weeks at this time, he could still only dream of the day when he would get named. Little did he know that he had a date with destiny that evening – in the form of his fist colliding with an expectant mother. By all accounts (all accounts being my slightly foggy recollection of this event), the incident in question occurred at the first beer check. I remember noticing the usual scrum caused by insatiable bunny-lust, and seeing Plan B emerge victorious. Only, instead of the customary cheering, an awkward silence had fallen upon the crowd, brought on by a cry of, “You just hit a pregnant chick!” And that’s how Plan B was born.
-This naming story brought to you by the lovely Poke Her Face.