Hared by Hind Legs and Parson’s Nose
See also pics from Pull the Plug.
The Euro Twins warned of shiggy galore for the MorOn trail, with the need for gators or high socks for this “challenging” terrain. We met at the first parking lot off of Westheimer Parkway at George Bush Park, by a pond where families were picnicking and fishing. The hares provided bottled water for thirsty hashers, since the water check was to be well into the run.
After the extensive chalk talk, the hares pointed the way, and the pack was off to the north. Across the highway, under a fence, and there was a check, where the FRB’s immediately found trail… running single file down a dry creek bed, dodging branches and debris to a big fat FALSE. Even more slowly, we walked/jogged in a single file line back out of the dry creek bed to the check. Some hounds cut through the shiggy to the right, instinctively knowing where the trail would lead. New boot, Torsten, found trail from the original check. We were off to a good run again through another dry open creek bed and across a thorny field.
The pack came to the walker’s trail with an arrow. We were unsure if the runner’s trail followed the walker’s trail, or if it went in another direction. Most followed the pack down the walker’s trail. Others, like me, checked in other directions for a sign of the runner’s trail. Pound It and I finally cut to the right to see if the trail was on the other side of the reservoir hill, but there was no flour. By the time we came back to the walker’s trail, there was little sign of life besides the last few walkers.
Pound It and I followed in the direction of the pack. Down the path, we ran into Lube Job on his bike, who said he thought the runners trail was to the left. We found a check, and after a lengthy search, we found true trail! Hooter Bill and Rear Layer were not far behind. Over a small water crossing and through a difficult check or two, we met up with Little Boy Blue, and then found the mother of all checks. We went in every direction possible… the guys down the street while they sent the girl into the shiggy. Eventually, we all ended up in the shiggy, over and under barbed wire and thorns galore. Santa Claus caught up with us, all still looking for trail. A few minutes later, we hear Santa’s baritone voice sing “on-on!” Show off!
We caught up with Santa down the long, dry creek bed paralleling the road, whistling for the few people who were possibly still behind us. We finally came to the water check with a turkey/eagle split. I wanted to go the turkey… I’m not gonna lie, but my faithful companions wanted to go the eagle trail, so we were off.
The heat was unbearable. We ran around the pond and to another check. Blue and Pound It went straight and to the left in search of flour, so I was expected to go to the right. When I turned to run, I saw two deer in the distance. I took that opportunity to rest a moment and enjoy their presence until they finally ran off. It was a sign. They were standing right on our trail. Nature shows the way.
We heard voices in the distance. Toilet paper was strung up the hill, intentionally or not, I don’t know, but ahhh… familiar faces. We weren’t the DFL’s, but we were damn close. The cheesy poofs were almost gone by the time we arrived. Ugh! But the beer was cold.
Circle was called almost immediately after our arrival. New boot, Steve, was still lost on trail. The circle continued. The hares were accused of… eeerrrr… I have no idea, but they were guilty, none the less! Beat My Meat and I are still arguing about whether either one of us did the walker’s trail, runner’s trail, or suffered from heat exhaustion and imagined the whole f*#kin’ thing.
We had a couple of fashion down-downs, where Mace Terbator, a visiting hasher formerly from Baghdad hash, now Hammersly hash, went ahead and showed us the ween to prove to Heartache that he wore his kilt with the appropriate lack of undergarments. The second fashion down down was for McP and Grind Slut, BFF’s, wearing the same TXIH shirts. Precious!
There was an accusation from Screw Driver,the Hammersly hasher, to new hasher from Georgia, Cum Solo, about being a wanker and jumping a fence when everyone else went under it… or that’s what I understood. Baghdad hasher, Cialis Kid, had to translate his accusation, which was quite entertaining. Cum Solo, we are not responsible for the Aussie’s accusation or the rough but amusing translation, so please do not hold that against H4! Hope to see you out again soon!
New boot, Steve, finally made it to the end! Someone get him some water, STAT!
Pound It made an attempt at naming Just Jenna “Full of P*ss” since she had to pee so badly at happy hour Friday with no potty in sight, but that name fell through. Another suggested something to commemorate her employment opportunity rejection at The Men’s Club. Another told of her love for Buckee’s food items, especially Beaver Cheese. We voted on a couple of options, and finally decided to table the attempt. My choice is clearly Beaver Cheese or Cheesy Beaver… two top notch, quality hash names. Talk amongst yourselves.
The on-on-on was at The Dam Ice House right around the corner from the ending, although Grind tried to strongly suggesting the Hop House a little further down the road, which I must say, had a better variety of beers. The majority of the on-on-on crowd, including Grind Slut, went to the ice house… an upscale establishment, serving typical ice house piss beer and really bad hot dogs and stale potato chips.
BM2 and I went to the ice house for a dog and a beer, while he and his partner in hash cash divvied up the spoils. Thank you, Hind Legs and Parson’s Nose, for a completely f*#ked up trail and having a conservative on-in. The hash actually made some dough. On our way out, we stopped in at the super crowded Hop House, which was filming open mic night. We chatted with the handful of hashers there for a few, and without drinking even one beer, headed back home. Now that’s responsible.
On-on to the Beer Mile! Enjoy!
At work, but on a mental vacation,
Really? F*#k!