Half-Mind Rant

A Few Good Hares

by Obeastiologist

 

Before you come out and run this weeks marine corps birthday hash, you're going to have to ask yourself a few questions. Mainly, "why do the hares hate us so much?"

Well, the answer is, "They beat up on a weakling, and that's all they did. The rest is just smokefilled coffee-house crap. They tortured and tormented a weaker hasher. They didn't like him. So, they back-checked him. And why? Because he couldn't run very fast."

So, that said, you wankers had better be ready to move quickly on trail. You may think its wrong for me to be telling you all this stuff, but, "I want you to know that I am proud neither of what I have done, nor of what I am doing."

Before I gave bloody asshole the trail this week, I was asked what I thought about him as a hare: "I think he's pretty much of a weasel, myself. But he's an awfully good hare, and in the end we see eye to eye on the best way to run a hash. We're in the business of setting trail, wankers. That is a responsibility we have to take pretty seriously. And I believe that taking a wanker who isn't quite up to the job and shipping him off to another assignment, puts lives in danger."

Some years ago, a harerazor pulled bloody's trail away from him, bloody was not happy,   "You fuckin' people. You have no idea how to defend a trail. All you did was weaken a kennel today.  That's all you did. You put wanker's lives in danger. Sweet dreams, son."

But the hare razor was not without reply, "Don't call me son. I'm the hare razor and an officer in the Mismanagment. And your trail is under arrest, you son of a bitch."

Bloody wasn't heard from for a while, but a source did find this quote in response to the allegations, "Son, we live in a world that has trails, and those trails have to be set by men with flour and chalk. Whose gonna do it? You? You, harerazor? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for the lost FRB's and DFL's, and you curse this kennel. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That the FRB loop, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at ending circle, you want me laying trail, you need me laying trail. We use words like flour, check, beer near. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent laying something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very well-laid trail that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said "On-On, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up some flour and chalk and set a trail. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to."

ON-ON Obeastiologist
Every Day is Wednesday H3