At three-ish out they came and gathered on the Teamsters’ parking lot for yet another trail, promised to go where sane men stay away. The grave hash would become a suitable conclusion for the past wild and perverse Halloween weekend. The red and hollow eyes, mouths feeling dry and as if a nest of young birds had died overnight in ‘em and faces gray like zombies showed the signs of a successful party the previous night at Saran Craps’. A party which was proceeded by a truly perverse hash-orgy in the Montrose area. Little did this writer know that the yearly HHH cross dress extravaganza was the opportunity for Harriets to pull up their strap-on’s and grab everything that moved. For the male Harriers the dress proved to be an excuse to now really stuff everything that had a hole, and forcefully get in one night what had been denied to them for the past year. On his Halloween night I proved to be a FRB, running like hell to save my anal virginity from predators like “Estrus”, “Geek” and “Bald Eagle”. So there we were out again, on the Teamsters’ parking lot, talking about the weather to avoid going into much detail about the past Halloween events. Finally the green limo of “Riff Raff arrived (anonymously not-marked with any hash sticker) which was the sign for the hounds to get weary. “Balut” announced some pull up you socks and grab your balls shiggy in the Southern direction and off we all went. It was hot as hell again! The bright sun was burning mercilessly on my hungover head. “When the Fuck will the winter ever set in at this Godforsaken hellhole”, I was thinking and which motherfucker had the idea to start a hash at two fucking thirty in the afternoon!” I decided to go in a West direction since there was a nice bayou there and an old railroad bridge. On the heels of “Saran Crap” with some other guys we jumped - ran downhill and managed to gather a considerable amount of sticker burrs, but saw no flower. After some on-calls we turned in a South direction to meet the pack where the trail followed the bayou to a check under I-10. Like any good hash, five minutes after the start, “Geek” was nowhere to be found, guided by this little voice in his head caused by one rugby game too many. “Rollerballs was one of the first to try out crossing the bayou, and found back trail, on-on! The pack soon followed after some hesitation at the bayou and into the ‘haunted’ shiggy. Vines, trees and bushes hid old graves and shattered tombstones. Crows flew away croaking, scared up by wild hashers invading their territory. Some of our necrofelious friends already started looking around for freshly dug graves and lost interest in the trail. Fortunately this setup didn’t work, because the graveyard was untouched for several years and the hashers soon realized a fleshless skeleton does not provide much lubrication with all that dirt between its bones. From this ancient Indian burial ground, we went climbing over more graves and vines finally out into the open. Trail was followed further south past some houses onto a railroad track. A difficult check there made most of the pack catch up with the FRB’s. The trail followed the railroad tracks briefly west and then bent off south heading towards Washington Avenue. Across Washington the trail once more got on rougher terrain. In the mean time I was paralleling with “Estrus” outside this area going to Memorial drive. After trespassing over the fenced terrain, the trail went through a hole in the fence onto the second graveyard. Also on this graveyard our hares managed to find a creek and some shiggy. Mourning widows were roughly pushed aside in case they happened to be on the path of the hash. Occasionally a hasher halted to take a leak on somebody’s grave. The tombstones proved to be too heavy for “Boy George”, and disappointed we saw him run back to try his luck on one of the old widows. I passed “Pump Me”, who was loudly describing her last doctors visit in detail to another Harriet, and when the subject came to YEAST infections, I decided to run off in a south direction. On-on cries came from down in the graveyard where a little swamp had formed over the years. Shoe sucking black mud released a stomach turning scent (similar to that of “Hooter” after he’s worked up a sweat) when the hashers kicked it up. What had leaked out of the graveyard into this swamp left little to the imagination. From here the trail went into the park near Alan Parkway, and shattered a party of kinds and elders picking up debris. “Hooter” Bill had past here short cutting and upset parents had already alerted the cops. Apparently he had taken drinking water from a few unsupervised kids and they were remarkably silent about what else the old man had done. Through the park the trail once again crossed a bayou. This time the water was dark brown and had a considerable current. After jumping in we lost fast ground under our feet and waiting was not an option. “Panty Boy” almost lost his glasses and at least one other hasher did. Running further with “Panty Boy”, we crossed Alan Parkway and went into a neighborhood. We met up there with “Geek” and “Heartache” who were remarkably dry. We were on the heels of “Shuttlecock “ who had been FRB-ing all the time. There we passed yet another graveyard but since it had a high fence the trail went around it and into one of the finer neighborhoods of Houston. Although it wasn’t quite River Oaks it had very ‘picturesque’ qualities such as cars in several stages of assembly in yards and matching houses. An occasional inquiry on a street corner – “hay man, what are you looking for?” – was a sign of interest in our hashing activity since we obviously were not carrying any money. We hadn’t seen any checks for a while and the hares seemed to run out of their purple flour. Meager little lines in a ditch had since replaced the big spots, which we saw in the beginning. We could smell the end though so we kept going. Trail went west then turned again in a southern direction which gave the impression that the hares were going to take us all the way to the Boatyard. Fortunately after crossing another road we came across the BN sign and arrived at the On-On. Our hares did well, we were received with cold beer, hot chili, and lots of snacks and dip. Getting beer was an acrobatic tour because the keg was placed in what seemed to be a former satellite dish. We found out the real story later in the circle when “Boy George accused “Riff Raff” of having used his wives pessarium for a beer cooler! “Rollerballs” hosted the circle since “Slumbag was slumming around NY City. He could hardly see because he had run into a tree and almost poked his eye out. We men always proudly walk around showing our new scars and bruises which makes me wonder why our testosterone challenged hashers always seem to come out so clean and healthy. Four new boots were welcomed to the circle, two of which were “Mr. Magoo’s daughters, the ahhhhhhhhhh sisters. (One wonders how such pretty girls could possibly sprout from “Mr. Magoo?”) The other two were made to cum by our own “Half Moon” which was kind of kinky considering one was a man, but each to their own. Being that we had three gorgeous and healthy bimbos out there it’s unfortunate that none of them took the fourth option for the down-down to show us their tits. After the reboots and an unsuccessful call for birthdays, a double naming took place. As mentioned in the previous hash trash, Katie of Brew-U stirred up all the Harriers hormones with her erotic screams while playing shuffleboard at the previous on-on-on. This resulted in her new name of “I-Scream”. Ed’s love for Catholic girls and more specifically their custom0fit dresses, resulted in his naming of “Altered Boy”. “Small Johnson” was in town as well and made his presents know at the OTR hash and the Grave hash. However, after the start of the run he chose to go mountain biking instead of hashing. Nevertheless he showed up at the on-on to grab a beer and beer was just what he got. His attitude stirred up hashers to demand a loud On Your Knees and Down Down, not one, but until he could come up with a good “Small Johnson” accusation. A way to ensure this would take a long time. This could have taken all evening if it wasn’t for “Slick Fifty” and “Fire Tunnel” whispering repeatedly a pretty lame accusation in his ear. Un-Johnson like he managed to recite the whole story at once and was reluctantly released. Finally “Rollerballs” Broke up the
circle with “Swing Low” and we went on singing hash songs and emptying the keg.
This got more tricky with time since the pessarium beer cooler became more unstable as it
was loosing weight. There was plenty of food and drink so the fun continued a long time.
I’m not sure if there was ever announced an on-on-on but I didn’t make it there.
We all reached the conclusion it had been another fine trail with great food and beer at
the finish. Thanks to “Riff Raff”, “Balut” and their all their friends
that helped out! |
THE GRAVEYARD HASH Run
#979 SUNDAY, 02 NOVEMBER 1997 VENUE: TEAMSTERS’ CAR PARK HARES: “BALUT” & “RIFF RAFF”