Courtesy of: Duke of Puke, A$$ Swipe, and Grind Slut

It was the second substantial cold front of the season, and autumnal temperatures drew droves of hounds to the trail’s start, where it was actually getting warmer. After changing out of long-sleeved and other thermal apparel, hounds anxiously awaited chalk talk. Soon the hares were off. Eager to track down, then pants, and eventually fellate their mates, Rancid Asshole and Vague Rant took off after 5 minutes in a vain attempt to snare the hares. Five more minutes later, the respectable pack followed suit. The start was easily the most difficult part of trail. Floured checks brought the pack around the back of the shopping center and thence south through an eroding apartment complex. Solving the next check led hounds east down a skateboard-proof bayou. Successive checks led further through the concrete until trail climbed to the road grade and around a church back to the White Oak Bayou and the TC Jester disc golf course.

Some younger residents of the neighborhood here were amusing themselves by throwing light bulbs at the concrete parking lot. It really is the simple pleasures in life. After shortly inconveniencing some disc-golfers, trail ascended to TC Jester and into Houson’s glorious lack of real estate zoning. While jogging down an ordinary sidewalk, Just Emily managed to tumble and injure her ankle. She is survived by her sweet baboo, Just Drew. Trail now wound through some new home construction and about 10 yards of shiggy, where Whale’s Vagina and Just Malerie still managed to collect some decent hash gashes. After merrily finding the BN mark, it was only another half mile to the On In, a dry skeeter breeder detention pond that, while easily accessible, was virtually invisible to passers-by on Del Norte Street. Good find, hares.

CIRCLE

Upon arriving at the On In, with its frigid 60ºF temperature, hounds and harriettes vested themselves in the latest and most expensive fashions REI had to offer. Fleeces, soft shells, Gore Tex (and competing WR treatments) anoraks, scarves, balaclavas, and sheepskin mittens were hastily donned for the chilling fashion show that is circle. Waiting the 8 (or 6, or 13?) minutes for circle to start, hounds enjoyed the standard hash fare and tasty Miller Lite Lone Star beer and Leprechaun cider. You know, not everybody knows the difference between apple cider and apple juice. But I do. If it’s tangy and brown, you’re in cider town. If it’s clear and yellow, you’ve got juice there, fella! Of course, in Canada the whole thing’s backwards.

Duly erected Religious Advisor Ramrod gathered the pack about him to the tune of Bum Titty Bum. The hares drank for their shitty trail, duh. Meatbox brought the single virgin of the day, Just Tom, whose preferred sexual position was ironically not “meat in the box.” Visitors included Grassy Ass (with fancy underpants) from San Diego Humpin’ and Just Chip from Calgary. Quoth Krusty Kreme “that’s pretty close to Greece.” Reboots featured the return of Just Amy (busy sleeping…around?), Digital Input (slaving away at the necklace factory), Will He Peter (currently the bearded lady at 6 Flags Chicago), and Just Bernie (out of town, patronizing a bearded lady). Special celebrations rounded out the usual business with the birthday of Extra Testicle, and the 9^th, 11^th, and 21^st hashiversaries of Snatchitarrius, Tender Vittles, and Lorna Doones respectively. Lorna barely made her down down, she was so busy four-wheelin’ around the basin.

At last those succinct and entertaining accusations could begin! Barreling straight into lame territory, Whale’s Vagina and Just Malerie drank first for managing to collect shiggy scars in the 10-odd yards of the stuff. Tender Vittles actually took notes for this part, and wrote his own joke: it must be WV’s time of the month. Not bad, but you’re supposed to do what everyone else does and write: WV is gay lol dix boobz beer! Continuing the trend, Hooter Bill drank for wearing a hat, for the first time ever? Which isn’t true. Anyway, only Jizz Hands remembered the new verse to the HB song, something about buggering Harry Potter. Jizz Hands would drink himself, with Krusty Kreme for their mismatched open toed sandals and fancy toenail designs. A naming was attempted for Just Malerie for screaming when Rancid threw rubbing alcohol upon her wounds. Like jizz on teflon, nothing stuck though. One Eyed Snake Charmer had been uncharacteristically wearing running shoes on trail, but they were conspicuously missing during circle. Just Drew, in a fit of romantic OCD, drank for carving out a heart in the mud next to Just Emily. Continuing that trend, the hares drank next for leaving the pack an I Love You heart on trail. Que romantico!

Just John, who was been hashing a while now, drank for generously providing kegs but disguising their lineage. Bravo! Having earned the name of Mini Pearl Necklace from the sovereign Mosquito H3, it was nonetheless disregarded by self-proclaimed Keeper of the Names Geek because – get this – there are rules in hashing! And one of the rules is that two similar names may not coexist (a Texan Minnie Pearl apparently has 100 runs, but has not been seen in 2012) Truth really is stranger than fiction. In deference to his offering of light beer, Just John was deemed to be Great Taste, Less Filling. Cuntratulations, here’s to your superior drinkability!

Will He Peter, emerging from absent anonymity drank honorably for making two cogent accusations sequentially, apparently a personal record. In a valedictory down down, Vague Rant drank for, as he put it, “sending War Criminal back to war.” Gayzelle and Justy Emily were called out next for nearly injuring themselves in uncertain attempts to participate in the pre-trail hack. For her efforts, she was quickly bestowed the name Can’t Hack the Sack, which is perfect because she hates it. Cuntratulations! Circle had to end soon because some impatient bastards in attendance were taking early bows and departing prematurely, reducing available car backs. There was still enough time for Dickobod Crane, the Headless Whoresman to drink for claiming to have impregnated an underage jack-o-lantern. Geek Cunt said it really happened! Then it was time to swing low and GTFO, on to The Petrol Station for fancy beers and sorta fancy pub food.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

• The Fall Campout is coming Nov 2-4. Details right here.

• Like Halloween? H4 needs hares for 10/28!

• If you get a car back from Lube Job, be prepared to take the scenic route. The advice from back seat drivers continues to go unheeded.