The Pack assembled in the parking lot of Juergen's Gymnastics Academy and after the usual socializing, received instructions from our hares, as well Hooter's assurance that "there is no barbed wire on trail". We were immediately off into shiggy with Geek doing a complete somersault into a mudpit exactly 5.45 seconds into the run. Funniest damn run start I've ever seen, and one of many enjoyable moments for the day.
(Side note: I've still got Geek's muddy ass print on the side of my car. Stop reading now, come over to my car and look. No, over here. It's the burgundy Pontiac Grand Am right next to the Hash Cash vehicle. See, Geek asked for a ride back to the cars at the end and hadn't cleaned up. I told him to clean that friggin' mud off before he got in my car, so he rubbed his
ass on the door and jumped in).
The Pack got off-road and stayed off-road. The Shiggy was always thick,often shady and absolutely perfect. Many's the time the entire pack was slowed to a crawl because we were literally crawling. Shirley Valentine observed that there were some 12 times that the checks and trail caused the pack to surge back together. Being mostly at the back of the pack, I can confirm that. I haven't seen the front runners come bouncing back to checks that many times since the original Michigan Expatriate Run. For those of us who are slow (you know, the Hashers P.P. is trying to euthanize) it was hilarious and gratifying.
Teamwork was the order of the day, not just to check trail, but to negotiate the numerous barbed wire fences as well as fending off mosquitos (which were not generally a problem unless you came to a stop). Donut Holer did a spectacular Ass-Over-Teakettle trying to jump some barbed, and had a nasty near-penis encounter. He recovered enough to show us his wound later on in the circle.
After five miles, there were numerous cries of "Water check. Where is our water check". But no water check was to be found. Well, in the Hash we makes our own fun, and we makes our own opportunities too. So at least a quarter of the hounds went swimming at the last pond in the sand pit, just before the end. Gaslight, Roller Balls, Anal 101 and his dog swam across a small lake in the pine trees near Highway 1960.
It was terra virgin, if I may use Hooter Bill's term.
The finish was in a field right next to the On On On at The Hitching Post between 1960 and the San Jacinto River. The intersection was Moonshine Drive and Moonshine Hill and I do not lie. The On On featured St. Arnold's Amber and plenty of canned yella', with Tonka Fuck serving up a variety of melons, fruits, pineapple and vegetables as well as other Hash
staples.Going native, she peeled and served some succulent cactus-type plant growing underfoot, and it was quite tasty.
Our Hares did a well-deserved down down for an exceptional run. Anal 101 made a string of Small Johnson-like statements that individually made no sense, but collectively were hysterical. Small Johnson then attempted – and delivered - an accusation with no words. No sense me trying to describe it. Suffice it to say that the accusee was Smooth Stroker and she deserved it. Ask Small for the whole story.
Victoria was named HOV in one of those inspired collaborations that makes Houston's circle-ups so interesting. Gaslyte dragged her out to tell an involved tale about Victoria seeking out Group Sex. Deliberately misunderstanding her (which is what we as Hashers do) Gaslyte then suggested a Hash name of Orgy something-or-other, which Half Moon then mutated to "HOV Lane", which Yours Truly mutated to "High Occupancy Vagina", quickly shortened to "HOV". HOV was back the following week, so I guess she likes her name.
Needless to say, being so near by, the On On On was packed, and the localpatrons enjoyed us, particularly as we jammed the dance floor with several harriettes doing a variety of the bump and grind and that girl-on-girl nasty dancing so popular with all male Hashers. The exchange of the night: Hasher to Bartendress: "Got any St. Arnold's ?". Bartendress: "Sorry, honey, all we got is beer !".
After a while "Got Gum ?" T-shirts proliferated, and things got really interesting. Various "Got Gum" hitpersons accosted various Hashers in the parking lot, with S.O.S. zooming in with camera in hand to record the inevitable (and messy) gum swap.
But hey, don't take my word for any of it. See the photos posted at www.h4.org.
Post Script: Upset that nobody found the water check, Hooter Bill re-ran part of the trail late Sunday night and later reported to the Hash via E-Mail that "it was right behind the log where we left it, and I don't see how the entire Hash could have overlooked it".
P.P.S.: This was Yours Truly's first genuine Hash Run since Hip Replacement surgery in December, and my first actual running in five years. Shiggy doth restore your body and your soul.
P.P.S.: This one has got to be in the running for Best Run.
-Will He Peter