Hares: Estrus and Infested
The hares convened the pack in a lovely parking lot under the harsh December sun. Virgins were treated to a chalk talk, told to look for flour as well as Hooter Bill-approved flagging tape on the trees. Then the pack was loosed into the Ant Hills trails. There was a considerable effort to solve the trail’s first check at Dairy Ashford, until true trail was found eastward along Buffalo Bayou. Flour weaved through the trees, dodging mountain bikers and sober Sunday strollers on its course. Checks were frequent, perhaps every quarter mile, always leading eastward along the bayou. Horace Greeley’s evil twin himself might have advised the hares on their path, entreating them to always “head [east] [old] man.”
Unperturbed, the hounds sauntered on, passing under Kirkwood, and thence Wilcrest in their course. After negotiating some gnarly jumps and bros with wicked air in the sylvan BMX park, the beer check was found at trail 1817‘s On In. All were careful not to moon careless bystanders whilst enjoying their Busch Lites. Tap the Ozarks! Moving on, trail led past Casa de Whale’s Vagina and into a residentialized zone. A friendly neighbor offered hose showers to the passing sweaty rabble. The pavement gradually yielded to some trash-strewn shiggy after passing by a cowboy-themed theatrical rehearsal. Seriously, are we not in The Montrose? Once again, flour led back to the On In near, you guessed it, the bayou. Here the recent arrived could observe late-cummers divining the last legs of trail. True trail led across a surprisingly cold and swift flowing current of poison water to the other shore. Lamer hounds and harriettes zenned across the pedestrian footbridge not a hundred feet further. Here the pack enjoyed beer and snacks, if you can imagine that.
Disclaimer: By happenstance, the On Sec was working that day without a net, that is to say without his notebook. As such, reported details of circle may not bear out the accuracy associated with past trashes. Duly erected Religious Advisor Ramrod convened his congregation with a little help from the bum titty bum song. The shitty hares drank for their shitty trail. The shitty virgins (Just Kate and Just Mary-Ashley?) drank for showing up. Reboots drank for not showing up.
There were no special analversaries to celebrate. Which meant things rolled rapidly along to accusations. Unfortunately, dogs were featured prominently. Curious to get a taste of that rarest of delicacies, ice, Jedi inadvertently (or super-vertently?) knocked over a whole pitcher’s worth of down down beer. His owner was then immolated. Later, McPisser’s hashbag was (ironically?) whizzed upon by another loathsome cur. His owner was then defenestrated. Speaking of mangy scoundrels, Heartache was called in next for complaining about hearing no “On On!” calls on trail but signalling none himself. I think that’s what the Brits call Dutch courtesy. In honorable down downs, Whale Hole was recognized for, being unable to sing with a mouth full of On In snacks, dancing along to the songs instead. Barreling into the ultra-lame quadrant, Whale’s Vagina and Just Will were castigated for their poor coordination, taking wipeouts on the root-and-bridge strewn trail, respectively. On that subject, it is Just Will‘s last week in Houston, before he departs for Las Vegas. If you see him, show him some love!
A naming was attempted for Save A Horse, Ride A Mole‘s sweet baboo, Just Eponine. The seemingly-innocent personal attribute seized upon this time? Her fab, Irish crème flavored E-cigarette. Suggestions of Smoking Cunt, Fag Sucker, and Camel Toe Crush all fell by the wayside. In the sober light of Monday, a proper and intuitive moniker is here proffered: TobacHoe? The naming was tabled in favor of an accusation for Gung Ho Iguana, for unsuccessfully asking harriettes to assist him with a ball koozie. After that frothy whopper of a down down, it was time to swing low and GTFO.
H4 presents That 70s Hash disco holiday party is this weekend! Friday pub crawl, Saturday trail, Sunday STD-treating, dance contest, prizes, gimmes, dinner, live band. Honestly, what more can you ask for, you insatiable bastard?
Mosquito trail 8.13 on Wednesday. See H4 calendar and MosquitoH3.com for details. For the best up-to-date information, join the facebook group.
- Taco hash Tuesday. 100 tacos for $100!