The loaf began in near northwest Houston near the intersection of Mangum and 34th street. I was busy learning the importance of limits of vector valued functions and as a result was late for the start of the run by about ten minutes. When I arrived, everyone was gone, except for Half Moon. Muscle Phahrt pointed us in the right direction and we took off after the pack. That is, we took off after Half Moon stopped at a pay phone and called his toll-hole Buck-a-Suck. Phahrt had given us a shortcut to the railroad tracks on Mangum where we found the back of the pack. I am told that I missed the majority of the shiggy. From this point on, the trail was centered around a certain canal, name unknown.

It was on this canal that I encountered my first stratum -- the toothless white trash in pickup truck stratum. The couple in the truck were sucking down tall boys and puffing on their cigarettes, no doubt waiting for us to pass so they could dump their garbage into the ditch. Shortly thereafter we left the canal and ran through an Hispanic neighborhood where I urged Meat Pie to show her tits as a goodwill gesture -- refused. We eventually made it to the 290 frontage road which we followed back to the aforementioned ditch and then crossed under the highway. Trail led through some woods that were supposedly full of poison ivy and into a warehouse district. Part of the pack was momentarily held up by a passing train. We cut through a couple of parking lots and stumbled upon the On Home Under The Powerlines.

There was beer, there was food, there were a lot of sweaty people standing around drinking the beer and eating the food. Hooter Bill confesses that he too was molested by Michael Jackson. Down downs were proctored by ex-R.A. Shuttle Cock. Phahrt and virgin co-hares, Shelby and Bush Snapper drink without incident. There were two new boots -- I don't know who you are, but you do. There was a visitor from Baton Rouge. Two Screws and The are accused of something and make a pitiful attempt at the 69 down down. Licks His Own does a farewell down down as he leaves for Germany for seven months.

There wasn't a huge turnout for this run which meant that there was still beer in the kegs when down downs ended. Many songs were sung. The police showed up -- no arrests were made.

The On On On was at a new place (at least, new to the hash) on Dacoma called Sundown. There was dollar beer and free food -- cracker crumbs and bean juice by the time I got there.