RETURN TO THE RESERVOIR
Run 1237
June 16, 2002
Hares: Hooter Bill and Sperm Bank
Venue: Barker Reservoir
Write up by: Rain Bitch
THE TRAIL:
HOOTER BILL began chalk talk by saying there would be no symbols on trail. No checks, back checks, nothing. Just blobs of flour, and that each blob of flour was, technically, a check. If you run out of flour, the last blob was a check. Really inventive, eh? NOT! He did say there would be 10 checks, and that the 6th check would have some water for us to drink. Who counts how many checks they set?
The pack takes off, and begins by running under the road along Buffalo Bayou, then crosses the Bayou on these little blocks that look like some Lego toys, then up to the levee. Trail then goes into the woods, and crosses the bayou. Knowing how risk-averse HOOTER is, several of us decide to stay on this side, knowing that it probably crosses back over, so we continue along this side of the bayou. THE WORM THAT TURNS finds first flour a few 100 yards away from where trail crossed the stream, so we didn't have to get wet.
It would have been nice to get wet, though, because the shiggy was sticking to our shoes so much that HINDLEGS compared me to Sasquatch with how big my feet were getting from having so much mud stuck to them.
Trail went through lots of trees with spiders hanging from them. I get to the sixth check with GROUP SEX, where we mused that it should have been called a "sex check", and would have made for some interesting.
In a large field BALUT saved SCUD and me from some bees that he had already had the misfortune of upsetting. We gladly went the long way around, although by then, we were sweating so much, the bees wouldn't have found much sweetness to our scent.
SCUD and I basically followed the people in front of us, assuming they were on trail, saying that ultimately, someone was following WOMB SERVICE. Imagine YEASTIE BOY's and my surprise later, when WOMB SERVICE comes up from behind us! Apparently, he got lost checking some other part of trail.
STINKY and DUMPSTER DIGGER evidently found some other part of the trail that none of us found, scared some cattle, then were racing against GEEK to not be DFL.
THE CIRCLE:
Visitors: Rod from Edmonton H3, Canada
Reboots: ADOLPH OLIVER BUSH, BAD PUPPY, Just CARL, and Just Kannan(We really need to name these guys!)
Virgin: Brian, MIND FUCK made him cum.
Transfer: MIND FUCK, who moved here from St. Louis H3
Birthdays: SPERM BANK and DICKHEAD
Accusations:
SARAN CRAP was wearing Groucho Marx glasses and tried to get a virgin down down, but ended up sitting on PIPES' toilet. Upon pulling his pants down, some baby rubbers fall out of his pants, with "SUCH A PUSS" written on the bag. Apparently, he wanted to do an accusation later, but brought SUCH A PUSS into the circle then. "If the condom doesn't fit, you must acquit!", SUCH A PUSS declared, but sadly, they did fit.
EZ FAG calls all ex-RA's into the circle, so he could formally turn over the reins of being an RA to PIPES. PIPES sits on the toilet, then the ex-RA's all get to spray him with that icky stuff kids spray. EZ FAG also gave RUBBIN' THE BOY WANKER, PIPES' Fluffer, a rubber dart gun to use to thwart private parties.
Then, given Hammersley Hashers love of sheep, EZ brings a plastic sheep into the circle for PIPES. GRIND SLUT puts one of SARAN CRAP's baby rubbers on his fingers, and finger fucks the sheep's butt.
EZ then accuses GRIND SLUT of too much wanking since he had his wrist wrapped up. Wow, GASLIGHT'S gone for one day, and he's already overdoing it!
YEASTIE BOY accused WOMB SERVICE of wearing new shoes (no surprise there), and WOMB had to drink out of his shoes.
Father's Day Down Downs: EZ FAG, HUMBUG, ESTRUS, BLUE BALLS, REAR LAYER, DONUT HOLER, PIPES, THE WORM THAT TURNS, ADOLPH OLIVER BUSH, AKA JOE, MR. T, HEARTACHE, and TWIST `N' SHOUT were proud to do down downs for being somebody's Dad.
Spiders In My Hair
(To: Strangers in the Night)
Spiders in my hair,
How fucking frightful,
Spiders in my hair,
Far from delightful,
This humongous bug,
Could be poisonous.
Running down my back,
It makes my skin crawl,
Disappears into my crack,
Down by my left ball,
Now I'm fucking sick,
It's headed for my dick.
It's way past time to drop,
My pants and leap,
Around in crazy dance...
Fuck this jungle shit,
Give me some urban,
My hair is full of webs,
A sticky turban,
I may soon be dead,
Before this hash is through.
Now I'm back on trail,
Then just like always,
Without fucking fail,
I see the "On Back,"
Webs hanging from my face,
I turn back in disgrace.
I've risked my life for little gain,
I'll have to run the hash again, and
Then I see the tracks in jungle clearing,
With you crazy fucks, all sweat and beering,
You just don't fucking care,
About spiders in my hair.