Run 1027: Hares: Master Chugger & KY Bitch

Run #1027

Hares: Master Chugger & KY Bitch

Monday, Sept 14

A scruffy crew of the usual hashers, along with a larger-than-average cluster of visitors, transfers, and newboots, gathered at a tree-lined setting near the intersection of East T.C. Jester and 610 north, at or about the appointed starting time of 6:30 pm. The hares had promised some shiggy, and we were not likely to be disappointed, due to the excessive amounts of rainfall and flooding a few days earlier. The hares gave us strict instructions "not to shortcut, or else!", as they sent us bounding off to the southeast.

The first check led us immediately into what true hashers crave: knee-deep festering shiggy with plenty of brambles and uncertain footing. Notorious shortcutter Hardache bravely led the way into what would prove to be an enjoyable, but inefficient way to navigate the trail. The majority of the pack (led by poofters Twirly Man, Ass Grabber, and Rollerballs) circumnavigated the woods by running directly along White Oak Bayou. True trail led out of the woods to a dark curving tunnel (amazingly free of rocks and shopping carts, I might add) which emptied out to the bayou. Unfortunately, the entire pack (with the exception of Gaslyte and myself) shortcut the tunnel and continued on trail south along the Bayou. Seeing this occur, I swam the still flood-engorged bayou with the logic that perhaps the trail would cross the 18th street bridge and come my way, but it was not to be, as the trail instead entered the appealing shiggy on the east side of the bayou (south of 18th).

The trail led deep into the woods; however I decided that "one good shortcut deserves another" and led Pineapple down along the scenic concrete lined banks of White Oak Bayou. We could hear the baying of the hounds in the flooded shiggy, with on-on calls punctuated with more-than-occassional screams of pain followed by an assortment of colourful language. Our shortcut paid off as we popped out in front of the pack just before a small cluster of decaying baseball fields. On-on over a metal gate and back onto pavement, where the next check appeared.

The poison-ivy festooned dead end ahead looked most inviting; however, it turned out to be false. I went right about a block, and then I heard trail being called back to the left. Deciding that I was too far along to turn back, I took a chance on another shortcut and paralleled along the next block. I thought to myself "boy, this sure looks a lot like the neighborhood where those well-known butt pirates Handcream and Pee-Pee live. I wonder if the run ends at their house?" Just then I spotted flour leading down into a jungle stream, with strands of toilet paper hanging from the branches. On-On.

As I navigated my way around jagged chunks of concrete, discarded oil filters, and protruding tree limbs, I observed that the flowing water was not as clear as it should be if I were the first hasher passing through. "Someone else has passed this way before," I realized. I followed flour out of the ditch and promptly ran into Choo-Choo, who was on a shortcut of his own.

Choo-Choo and I blazed down a side street and found a check, back out on White Oak Bayou. I immediately was on-on to the north and across the T.C. Jester bridge, only to discover a false stashed under the trees. In the fading light, I could see hashers and heard them calling on-on in the distance to the south, back on the other side of the bayou. I again took a chance and ran south across 11th st. and through a large parking lot. Again, I managed to pop out in front near the large T.C. Jester railroad tracks overpass. On-On.

Trail followed the western edge of the bayou, and then went back across the bayou on T.C. Jester. I missed the turn and went checking under the overpass. Nothing. The distant calls of the hounds were fading faster than the remaining daylight. I decided to attempt shortcut #3 by climbing the "no trespassing - railroad property - violators will be buggered by attack dogs" fence and running along the tracks to the Shepherd St. overpass (about a mile in the distance), where I knew we had ended runs in the past (a fine example of Geek hashing logic). As I got closer, I could see the hare's truck pulling in to the parking area. On-On. I pushed harder, with the end in sight, but the heavy rains of the last few days had turned the area into a sticky quagmire. It was like a bad dream, one of those ones where you're trying to get somewhere and your feet won't move. After what seemed like an eternity, I made it in, only to find that Pee-Pee, Twirly man, Ass Grabber, and Dickhead had managed to out-shortcut me and were already there enjoying a cold one.( It turns out that Pee-Pee had seen flour in his driveway before he left to go to the hash earlier that afternoon.) Forty-five minutes on trail, though. I thought it was a fine run.

The rest of the pack straggled in over the next half-hour or so, and cold beer, pizza, and red beans and rice were enjoyed by all, with the usual hash circle conducted by Religious Advisor Boy George. Highlights included rumors of a Hooter Bill/Limp Noodle/High Maintenance threesome that allegedly occurred in the parking lot of Niko Niko's after the previous day's rogue hash. Plenty of extra beer resulted in a degenerate hash song group, led by Dick the Boy Wonder, Boy George, and Rollerballs. There was an on-on-on at Walter's Ice House, but I didn't go.

On-On,

Grind Slut

P.S. Gaslyte and Limp Noodle, when do I get my 10 blow jobs for writing hash trash?

ON HOME!