Hared by Menage Myself, Smooth Stroker, and Roy Orifice

The cooler temps were a welcome change for Sunday’s hash, but the misty, soggy conditions… not so much, although they made an ordinary suburban run extraordinary!  Menage and Smooth Stroker sported their Buccee Beaver t’s in celebration of their fourth annual Beaver in the Burbs.  The pack met at 3:30pm for a 4pm pre-laid trail, laid by Smooth Stroker.

Although the streets and EVERYTHING were soggy, including the flour, the markings held up nicely!  We started where TC Jester dead ends and wound around through the neighborhood, then back along the muddy drainage ditch.  Our feet sank with every step taken through the mucky grass, so it was quite a workout. 

We twisted and turned through the empty retention ponds, then hit a check in the neighborhood.  The trail led to another opening (empty lot) to the fields behind the hood.  Trail took us around another empty retention pond, and then an arrow went into some shiggy and straight up a hella slippery and steep hill.  This is where I lost trail.

I came out of the shiggy and down another hill and advised Just Carly, D!ck A$$ly and his dog, Rosie not to try the arrow… that it led me around in a U-y.  So we proceeded to follow B*tt Pirate, Just Jacob, ID10T and Estru$, and I never saw another mark.  We came to an open field to the left, and someone yelled BEER NEAR, although I didn’t see that mark either.

We took off across the field, which was soggy as hell.  I tried to run, and was slipping and sliding, and then wading through ucky mud up to here.  We spotted the On-In in the distance, around yet another empty retention pond.  I caught up with B*tt Pirate and Estru$ and challenged them to a little race.  I lost, but not before we were told in the circle that BP tripped while I was still in the lead.  Graceful.

The end was by a school, and apparently Pull the Plug freaked out because we weren’t supposed to be “selling” and/or consuming alcoholic beverages within so many feet of a school.  So they picked up the “covered ending” and counted so many paces away from the school so we could enjoy our adult beverages without fear of the law.  After all, we earned them!

Snacks were semi-sparce, but Roy was sure to bring out a big container of Morton Salt.  Thanks, Roy?  The cans of pi$$ beer were ice cold and refreshing, while it lasted.  Someone had to make a beer run for a couple more 12 packs, and Sticky L!ps swooped in like she saved the day!  You rock, Sticky!  😉  We had plently after the B-EE-RR UN, beer run, beer run!

The circle was nice and rowdy, just like we like it!  We had several new boots, a couple of visitors, lots of reboots, and the usual pleasantries.  Hooter Bill and Rear Layer came running in after the circle had started, and we thought they were the DFL’s, but Grind Slut and The Pits were nowhere to be found.

Just Jacob, mohawk guy, was having some issues with his crusty-a$$ mohawk due to the inclement weather.  By the circle, the mohawk was just a sad little comb-over.  So… he went down as Just Jacob, and rose again as “Bad Combover”.  Menage should have a great photo of his knighting.  It was glorious!

D!ck A$$ly called Just Carly into the circle for finding a fallace-shaped gourd of sorts on trail.  “The gourd will point the way”, she was accused of saying.  It was ribbed for her pleasure.

Spot on the Mat suggested “May the Gourd be With You”, followed by “May the Gourd be IN You” as possible names for Just Carly, but our esteemed RA said that if she could get such a great name on her second week, just think what she’d get in the cumming weeks.  Wise our RA is.  Later, Gaslight came up with “En-gourd-ged”, but it was still tabled.

Gaslight accused (physical therapist by day) Black Bu$h of saying that she (herself) was the FRB female, and that she just thinks of Gaslight as one of the guys.  There was further references to small bre@sts, to which Heartache said that Black Bu$h was perfectly proportionate to her asian heritage, etc, etc.  I say that’s what makes her a great runner.  Hard to run with big chabungas!

People were disappearing from the circle, and we realized that they were coming back with some delicious-looking grilled chicken, apparently cooked by our personal chef, Menage.  Guess it had to be served sometime, but we had a huge lull in the festivities.  The chicken disappeared quickly.  Hmmm… it looked good.

Black Bush accused new guy, Just Phillip, of putting his hand down the pants as soon as Just Carly was presented with her gourd.  He said that his hands were cold, and it was warmer in his pants.  I tried in my own pants, and it’s true.  Our bodies are perfectly designed to be warmer down our pants. 😉

At some point, seemingly hours later, the true DFL’s made it on in.  Grind and The Pits, wet and worn out, were welcomed into the circle with a cold can o beer and a run under the hash bridge.  Goes to show that even the most experienced hashers don’t know what the f*#k they’re doing ALL of the time. 

P*$$y Checker accused somebody of something, but I couldn’t get past the fact that he looked like the South Park version of the alternate universe P*$$y Checker, Evil P*$$y Checker… with a gotee.  He looked handsome with the facial hair, but I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.

Oh, and we need a hare for next Sunday, October 18th.  Someone suggested a mystery hash… BYOB, someone provides flour and snacks, and we draw a name from a hat.  Puuurfect!  Do we have any other takers?  JM’s, what say you?

The naughty, wonderful songs and super-lame accusations continued until Menage could take no more and had to announce the location of the On-on-on… Claytons.  Those folks didn’t know what they had coming to their little Greenspoint neighborhood juke joint.  None of us were dressed for the occasion, but who really goes out in full makeup, their hair did and high heels on Sunday night?  Claytons’ patrons, that’s who.

The owner/manager set up a long row of tables for us, and we squeezed through the upholstered lounge chairs to claim a spot.  Claytons offered a little buffet of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and dirty rice, but some ordered off of a menu.  They had a very small beer selection on tap, and Blue Moon was my beer of choice… a new fav from last week.  I had to stop at 1.3 because I was the designated driver.  We stayed for one song from the live R&B band, which was really good, but (like I always say)somebody’s gotta work around here, so we took it to the house.

On-on to next week’s hash.  Who’s the hare?  It’s a mystery.

Your warm-handed on-Sec,
Really? F*@k