Date: Sunday October 3, pills 2010
Hares: My Brother Made Me Eat It, Ball Tender, Homoerectus, and Dick the Boy Wonder
Pre-Run Jet Skiing
It was a glorious day this Sunday October 3rd , as the pack lounged lazily from their drunken stupors called the weekend of Crab Hash. Homoerectus promised a delightful virgin run with his 3 co-hares, and generously offered a trail of 3.5 shiggy miles surrounding DTBW’s property. And what’s better than 3.5 miles of hungover stumbling through scrubby Houston shiggy? Abita beer! A delicious Abita beer check! In fact, that Abita beer check was so deliciously tempting, that McPisser and myself, your faithful On-Sec Easy to Please, decided to skip the trail entirely, follow it backwards, and meet the hungry pack at the Abita beer check, successfully securing our place as totally awesome.
The pack was off after a light chalk talk, heading straight down the lake and gleefully pointing out, “Here is where Old Faithful set the Crab Hash on fire!” True, the ground was burnt and smelt of an old rubber factory. The first check sent the pack off towards the right, as McPisser and myself decided to sneak away to implement the master plan.
DTBW really owns two large lakes separated by some strange mound of earth where campers pitched their tents. Knowing the run was A-to-A helped immensely and McPisser invited us to run towards the left and through the
How to get a dick drunk.
underbrush. I was so thirsty and partially still drunk that I could taste the Abita waiting but naught 1.75 miles from me! Alas, the marks kept moving. Deeper and deeper into the woods where the beer was intentionally hiding from our thirsty grasp. The marks became confusing! What was that they said about two trails during chalk talk? Something…bleh. Walker’s Trail? Whatever My Brother Made Me Eat It actually said, I was too busy getting lost in those big beautiful eyes and dreaming of beer. Or maybe it was the distraction of Dr. Doo Doo’s well shorn package and leather vest. Whatever the reason, McPisser and I were lost as f*@k and finding no beer.
No whistles. No sounds. Only the faint buzz…buzz…buzzing…of a GIANT SWARM OF BEES!!! Aiiiieeee! Your faithful On-Sec was then turned on by the Hash Gods and stung by a bee on her calf which made running and walking painful and itchy. We were beer-less, broken, and worn from our 1 mile jog and we stumbled upon a few other scragglers including Dickrectionally Challenged who was taking a leisurely stroll through the pasture land and probably as lost as we were. Not a good sign. All we needed was a Geek sighting to secure our utter despair. But then, whistles were heard! A tweet tweeting of merriment not far off! Instead of heading for beer, we turned and went back the way we came. If we didn’t have beer than at least we’d be the first ones in and heroes to all that stayed behind! Tasting glory, we caught sight of the trail that ran through both lakes in a
They tried to run away.
sly and willful test of courage for the hounds to follow.
McPisser played the part of FRB well, while your faithful On-Sec was winded from too much exercise. It was Crab Hash after all, not some silly race! We entered the CH compound before the hounds began to crash through the water and across towards the pavilion. The sleepy and drunk sunbathers decided to watch all the commotion, and eventually a mass gathered on the banks to encourage a sort of retarded swimming competition to the finishing point. Raider of the Lost Sack began running in circles as Twinkle Toes gurgled his way along, fighting not to slip into the deep several feet of shallow water. Mud In My Crick pointed and laughed at everyone running and continued to drink happily. Xena the Warrior Princess…well…was probably still on some form of ecstasy from the night before…but he appeared to be enjoying the show. Everyone’s favorite West Coast harriette Daisy Douk sat straight up, pretended to care, then went back to enjoying herself in the sun.
The run was over, but the liver battle continued. Circle was fun and succinct, a welcome break from the happenings of the weekend and while most returned to their lounging or packing, I returned to itching my stupid bee sting. I’m sure the rest of the trail that people actually ran was enjoyable as no one complained…much.
Campbell Family is too damn pretty.
That’s what you get for trying to be awesome.