Escape from Sam Houston Down Downs

I plunged into the smelly trench sinking to my knees into the black muck and green lily pads; which were potential hiding places for cottonmouths and blood hungry leeches. Up the steep bank and over a hill I ran; then down into a patch of brambles and bushes so thick I had to get on all fours and crawl to get through them. I had run only a quarter of a mile; but already rivers of salty sweat were blinding my eyes, making the trail ahead of me difficult to see. It had rained only an hour or so earlier. That and the existing cloud cover kept the still hot temperature cooler than the average 100 degree heat; but the humidity was stifling and I could wring the dank sweat from my clothes. The wait-a-minute vines and thorny briars ripped at my skin and shirt causing huge gouges in my flesh. This slowed me down and caused me to expend even more strength than normal to keep moving forward. I was gasping for breath and the muscles in my legs were screaming in agony to rest; but I had to keep moving. I could hear the pack of hounds behind me getting closer and closer.

"What the hell is this!" I exclaimed. The carcass of a freshly killed rabbit lay on the ground before me. "This could be a bad omen." I analyzed. The thought came into my head of picking it up and using it later for nourishment or perhaps the pelt could come in handy; but I knew that it might slow the hounds down a little if I left it.

I trudged on through the thick underbrush. The heat was becoming more oppressive.

The worst thing was I had to pee pee. I felt like such a pus. Suddenly my mind began playing a perverted game with me. A song kept running through my head in an endless loop. No matter how hard I tried to stop it; the song kept playing and playing like a broken record.

"They ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles. They ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn’t go. They ran so fast that the hounds couldn’t catch‘em. Down the mighty Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Hup Two Three Four…"

On and on it kept playing in my head like the tune that comes from an ice scream truck.

At last the hot steamy bushes were behind me. I found myself in a green oak tree covered pasture. The tepid air was hot and thick with the foul sweet smell of fresh manure. Now at last, I could run free and erect; but I had lost my direction. The trail was no where to be found. Disorientated, I was unsure of which way to go until I saw a man of impeccable taste and good manners wearing an odd hat and a red bandana around his neck surrounded by a bevy of beautiful partially clad females. I knew that this was a very good omen and ran off in the direction they were going. The ever-present pack of hounds was crashing through the brush close behind me. Now, I could also hear the voices of their handlers shouting directions and making strange chant like noises.

"Fuck Schlumbag! Fuck Finger Fuck!"

"Fuck Schlumbag! Fuck Finger Fuck!"

This route soon brought me to a paved road. Every instinct in my body didn’t want to run down a straight open road; but I had no choice. The oven like heat was even more oppressive now. I felt vulnerable and naked. My tongue had swelled to the size of a sausage and I was licking the salty sweet sweat off my arms for moisture. I was nearing heat exhaustion and out of breath. This hellish road was endless. It was truly the pits. My noodle was positively limp. Every breath I took was like breathing in the air of a blast furnace. An old cowboy song came to mind.

Old Dan and I our throats burned dry and our souls, they cry for water. Cool… Clear… Water."

"Please God! Let this end!" I screamed.

Suddenly a small group of semi naked young aboriginal looking men with dark tans and lean corded muscles that gleamed with sweat in the sunlight appeared before me. They were running in every direction; until one of them, a large brawny heavily muscled fellow they addressed as Saran Crap, grunted two words that only the people of their tribe could understand. They all started running in the same direction. I decided to follow them. Visible and not far away were the bounding hounds. They were gaining ground fast.

The trail led to a bayou. On the other side I could see the man in the odd hat with the red bandana around his neck; still surrounded by a bevy of beautiful partially clad women. I knew I was going the correct way. When, "On In!" I could see the end. It was a virtual paradise with lots of shade and plenty of cool golden nectar of the gods beckoning me.

There was one final obstacle to cross. It was a steep rocky gorge with a fast flowing stream at the bottom of it. The boulders were loosely packed and walking on them was very precarious. A giant bolder the size of a large cantaloupe came crashing past me. I cautiously made my way down to the torrent of white water that was begging for me to slip; so it could claim me as its own. As I crossed the raging stream on a makeshift bridge, left perhaps by the same aborigines I had seen earlier, I wanted to stop and enjoy the coolness of the clear water; but NO! The hounds were upon me. They were snarling and there was much gnashing of teeth. The wailing hurt my ears. I quickly climbed up the rocky precipice on the other side. Fortunately, I climb better than I run. I pulled myself over the top just as the nearest hound plunged across the stream. No matter; because I was ON HOME!

At the On Home I was surround by a bevy of beautiful buxom bodacious babes bringing me a bounty of bubbling brown beer. On Home at last! On Home at last! In only forty minutes I was indeed On Home at last! It was a glorious hash. Thank you hares.

Starring in no particular order:

The Hares: Slumbag and Finger Fuck

Mr T Played by himself

The New Boots: Jenny (Sin Bad made her cum) and Bill (Bildo Dildo made him cum)

The Aborigines: Played by the FRB’s of the H4

The Hounds and Handlers: Played by the Houston Hash House Harriers

The Bevy of Beautiful Babes: Played by the Harriet's of H4 and Altered Boy

The On On On was at a place that will forever be nameless to me unless I go back. Will He Peter provided the entertainment by buying all the hashers present a round of beers. Three cheers for Will He Peter. Thanks also to Johnny Horton http://www.cddb.com/xm/cd/rock/7f05f10a.html

and Bob Nolan http: http://www.fresno-online.com/sotsj/gac.html.

Again, Thank You Hares for a most excellent hash.

Your Scribe for Sunday 7-19-98 Hash Run #1019: Boy George