The PreRamble: After much buildup and discussion about the second running of “Trainspotting” (even to the point of frightening our little SOS…”I’d better pack plenty of water and snacks for THIS cross country run”…) the day finally arrived, balmy and clear. Despite Houston’s impressive showing at Mardi Gras, we still had about 50 hounds gathered, ready to STUMMMBLE!
The Trail: I don’t have a GPS, but my sense of direction told me throughout this shiggy-filled trail that we were running in a zigzag fashion through swamp and thick forest. We started to the north/northeast and after crossing some wildflower and briar filled fields, quickly followed trail into the woods. Soon enough we encountered the dreaded railroad trestle over the creek…I was not tempted to cross it after the stories I’d heard, but that did not deter several hounds to cross it, despite the lack of flour in that direction. Trail circled down, then around and through a hyacinth swamp, which I cleverly avoided by shortcutting around to the west (I think). We ran along the creek bank and then back into the deep dark woods. The cypress swamps were really beautiful, but you had to be careful not to trip on the “knees”. If we had run this trail in the summer we’d all have malaria now! I thought I would be clever and cross the largest of the smelly dark swamps by walking across a slimy log…OOPS…fell in anyway, and got a nice big bruise too. (That’s gonna leave a mark!!) I was in good company though…most of the mini-pack I was with took at least one TUMBLE in HUMBLE that day. SOS tripped on some shiggy, and Hairy Palms fell headlong over some ankle-biting barbed wire. We popped out into a wide tractor trail, and came upon Gaslight running to and fro between backchecks. After standing around a few minutes, trying to hear any calls of ON-ON, a few of us took off in a perpendicular through the woods in search of flour or markers. At this point, I’d had plenty of fun and was in need of some amber colored refreshment (By now I’d have even settled for piss-colored). Not too much further, and we spied the most welcome Beer Near…. Ahhhh!
The On-On: I came out of the woods to witness Donut Holer reassuring the local constabulary that we were not poaching on his deer lease. Heartache and the Worm had a multitude of yummy refreshments for us at the end, and the pack came in fairly well together. Not that all of us had run the same path!! I missed the naked wild man and the irate gator farmer reported by Gaslight and Thai’d One, and the round of golf played by Such A Puss and Low Profile. I don’t know the real story behind the adventures of DFLs Balut and Roy Orifice, but they were covered in mud and smelled of pigs… The circle was raucous, led by Hairy Palms, and accusations abounded. SOS and I had dressed in matching loud yellow Camo pants, and we did a coordination down-down (since there are NO fashion down-downs…HA). Gaslight accused the hares of trying to paralyze the harriets’ lips in the cold swamp water. Shortly after that she received the coveted Friend of Whitey Award for flashing at the Aeros outing, resulting in a goal for our side!!! We welcomed visitor Testicles, but he had to do a down-down for bringing his back-door buddy with him from the chilly Northwest, instead of his lovely wife, TFTM. We welcomed a new boot, the sister of Crack of Dawn, who was bewildered by the whole thing, and honored many reboots including Gonad the Barbarian. Gas Passer was duly christened by the circle for continuing to pass and re-pass Gaslight on trail.
The On-On-On: After the circle was disbanded, a few of us stayed around to polish off the keg (which took about 10 minutes, hey we’re pros). That done we proceeded to said “redneck PUB” and stuffed down some barbecue and bottled beer. The place was hopping for a Sunday night, and you had to be wary of the drunken dart throwers on your way to the LOO. The natives were tolerant of our presence, and Balut was relieved that the local pig farmer wasn’t there. We took over a corner of the place and entertained ourselves, as hashers will… Sticky Lips, SOS, and I danced on our chairs to the groovy sounds of Merle Haggart and Tammy Wynette from the jukebox. Massages were given and received by Group Sex and EZFag. Roller stopped by on his way home from snipe hunting and we traded trail stories for bird-watching lore.
The On-On-On…On: Somehow about a dozen others and I were convinced by Fire Tunnel to take a long-cut home and stop by her place to harass Eargasm and play on the new backyard swingset. Sounds logical, huh? We sneaked around the house into the back yard, shed our camos, and commenced to swinging and sliding down the sliding board. After he recovered from his surprise, Eargasm and the men had to discuss the finer points of constructing a proper suburban swing set with the right size lumber, as the women rifled through the cabinets for any signs of wine, beer, or anything containing alcohol. The evening finally came to a close after we had consumed all the available alcohol, run a hash trail through the back yard laid by our hare, Gonad the Barbarian (complete with a very clever 10-foot false laid by cohare Hooter Bill under Gonad’s direction), and a circle up that boasted a fashion show by the hash-men. Worm…you are so lovely in lavender. And thanks, I recovered my chili-pepper sock a few days later from between the couch cushions. The good news is that we didn’t wake the baby, Dingo-Bait, and so far Eargasm and Fire Tunnel have not been kicked out of Kingwood.
Your faithful On-Sec,
WoWMoMWoW