Run Number: 1021

Date: 8-2-98

Number in Attendance: 54

The pack gathered near Tanner and the West Beltway at Independance Park. There was a slew of visitors from St. Louis, Miri (Malaysia) and Oman.  Talk about your cultural extremes. We all communed around the van until the appointed time, while High Maintenance played grab-ass with a guy who   was "just a friend".  

The run started promptly at 5:00 p.m., as promised by the extremely punctual (he was wearing two watches) Silent Dick. Yes, the man who hasbeen trying for years to bring the Hash to an understanding of redundant systems, and the necessity of maintaining same, had the pack underway as close to five as ever the Hash could be induced to move.

The Pack was off south from the start, running through a copse of woods and other vegetation for a few minutes, and straight into new home construction. It was on from there to a pavement pounder through the rest of the neighborhood, one of those for which shade trees are but a fond hope, and then only once the saplings take root. 

The Hares brought us agonizingly close to water on a few occasions, including a glorious looking pool with a water fall mushroom type arrangement. All very imposing of course, secured from the great unwashed (us) by a fence with Hash skewers at the top.

Out of the hood to the water check, where the Hares japped friend and foe with water cannons. Most impressive. The remainder of the trail was shiggy, glorious shiggy. Fields, woods, a cut through some kind of gravel yard, and a long shot down a very narrow utility right of way that the Hares had thoughtfully cut out to a width of 9.5 inches, with brambles, briars and stingy weed on both sides. Hell on the legs of mere mortals, but nature's caress to the ravaged legs of Hashers. From there, we were back into the neighborhood we started in, with the final leg of the trail jogging right to the On-On.

There was food and beer aplenty. Tons of veggies, fruit, dogs and sausages, all thoughtfully served at the very beginning. What a great idea that is, by the way. People seem to like to eat as soon as they come off trail, and, it keeps things moving.

Sundry auto hashers, all looking fresh and scrubbed in their civvies. They were remarkably unaccosted at the On On. The circle also featured sundry visitors, wankers, twinks, twerps, latecomers and limp dicks. Boy George (one of the Auto Hashers) actually held his head up throughout the entire proceeding.

Lots of fresh meat in the Hash lately. Very encouraging, although our two new boots this weekend left before down downs. The Hares kept the circle moving by hosing one and all with the aforementioned water cannons, but nobody complained. Chris Saxon was named Barbie, which he got for playing with barbed wire. There has got to be more to that story, like he wrapped it around his dick, but I do not know. Gaslight attempted to rename him Barbie Doll, but was unsuccessful.

Later, the remaining leftover food and beer proved too much of a temptation, and to certain Hashers it soon became projectiles for shall we say "non-consumptive purposes". Sticky Lips was hit by an unnamed perp with a 3/4 gallon beer jizz that caught her right in her left ear, hanging there forever, just like that scene in "Something About Mary". She was amused in a "I can pick you up and throw your ass in a tree you know" kind of way.

Minnie Mousse, taking umbrage at me spooging her in the circle with a half-gallon beer jizz out of a plastic water jug, fired a hot dog morsel off my forehead, leaving a nasty welt.

The Spooge itself was a thing of beauty, wafting gently through the air about six feet and coming to rest - completely intact - on top of her head. I made some remark about it really only being Mousse, but she was not amused. At least, she wasn't amused until she caught me with this rifle shot from thirty paces.

Later, Silent Dick, apparently sensing that something had transpired to cause the otherwise retiring Minnie to rifle food products at me, doused me with a cooler of ice water. Thanks Silent, that was actually the antidote to that death march you called a run, notwithstanding that I rode a bike.

Grind has returned. Gaslight is now officially off the market again. Sorry you guys, you had your chance. And while Grind is glad that you didn't use her TOO much while he was away, Gaslight is pissed that you didn't use her at all.

The On On On is unknown to me, as I did not go; but I'm sure some foolishness transpired. It was at a place called Ramblers, which, according to reliable attendees was most hospitable to us despite our extreme whiteness. Steaming Bush told the proprietor that her hash name was actually her "Indian Name". They were much amused.

By the way, both Jiffy Lube and Not Nice Whole were virgin hares, yet were not floured. What's up with that ?

On On

WHP

ON HOME!

Copyright © 1998, Houston Hash House Harriers. All rights reserved.
Revised: October 08, 1998.