Run #1453 - The Anal Proctologists' Run

May 11, 2009

Hares: Dr Fill, Happy Beaver, Rubber Maid
Where: Swan's, 1336 9 Avenue SE
Big Rock: Served by the best waitress in Calgary
Attendance:

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The 64th annual Anal Proctologist run was simply one for the aged, er, ages — a lovely spring evening with Head Cheese Dr. Fill orchestrating a trail through Inglewood with his lovely assistants, Nurse Happy Beaver and Candy Stripper Extraordinaire Rubber Made.

Ms. Made wanted it known that she was a candy stripper, not candy striper, and would have begun shedding clothing in public for, oh, 25 cents or maybe 30, or a good piece of hard candy. Hey, whatever works.

Without a doubt, Ms. Beaver and Ms. Made were also the Callipygian Twins, which is a fancy word for having shapely buttocks. And anyone who was there knows exactly what that means, rubber butts notwithstanding.

Wowser, va-va-voom.

Hashers gathered at Swan's bar on 9th Avenue SE, you know the place where newly named Waitress Hash Whacker runs things with an iron, yet highly effective, fist — more or less.

Ms. Whacker was a loud and brutally efficient machine most of the night, till she took off after Hardly with her No Whining sign, and later tried to attack him with a rather large potted plant. Well done.

The mood in the circle was loud and festive, which may have had something to do with the rubber gloves passed out for the run.

Baby put his glove on the end of his horn, put his lips together and blew. Mike Hawk did his best Howie Mandel impression by placing his glove over his shiny head, and inflating it. The glove, not his head. And Mouthful tried to do her best Michael Jackson one-glove impression, although she still needed to raise her high-pitched voice another couple octaves.

The pack was then off to wander the streets of Inglewood, through neighbourhoods and on the bike path along the Mighty Bow, past the old brewery, and eventually back to the pub, where Guest RA Hardly attempted to fill Bobbin Robin's tiny bird shoes.

After intense research, Hardly conducted business with more than enough material to tide him over. For instance:

• Dr. Fill finally got his watch for his 250th run in March, which was actually a replacement for one that was stolen a few weeks ago at Len's Den from Hardly and Twisty's hash stash. As soon as Dr. Fill figures out which way Mickey's mouse hands are pointing, he'll be good to go.

  

• Jaws did a half yard for his 150th run, although it might have been a bit less than a half yard because Kebab, when she was trying to warm it up, kept spilling it on her pants.
   
• After skipping out on business after about the last 10 runs, Dirty Dancer finally did his down-down for his 269th run, or some such number.
   
• Wet Nurse appeared for the second week in a row after a decade and a half absence, and got a down-down for some teeter-totter offence that involved Sucks Everything, a virgin friend of hers (a likely story), and Duke of Hurl. Wet Nurse also sheepishly and reluctantly admitted that she's a sister of Tastes Like Chicken.

  

• Trish is no longer Trish, instead she's now known as Dick Inside Her or Dickens Cider or something like that. Among the rejected names: Monkey Piss, Piss Monkey plus Landing Strip, which was Rubber Made's favourite because it had something to do with a bawdy sex story, but she didn't remember it till too late.
   
• Peeler now has a new fave lesbian joke: What do you call 500 lesbians armed with bayonets? Militia Etheridge.
   
• Mud Guard made a return appearance after missing the last 15 or so runs, and for six months before that. He's been gone so long, he even has hair now. Not much, but some.

  

• Inspector Butt attended his last hash for awhile, since he and Thunder Tits are jetting off for a five-week holiday in Gay Paree and other non-gay parts of France. Inspector worked diligently, wink, wink, to learn the language, but the only French he knows is Versailles, another beer please and losers. In other travel news, Hardly and Twisty returned safely to the hash after turning down a chance to plunge over Niagara Falls in a barrel.
   
• Limp Dick got a down-down for allegedly going to see Star Trek eight times on opening weekend, which may or may not have happened. May the force be with him, although that might be Star Wars, another space movie franchise that's outlived its usefulness.
   
• King Shit, who might forget his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders (most of the time), spent most of hash business looking for the Hash Thingy that he lost somewhere or other during the run. Of course, his motivation for finding it wasn't terribly high, since it was pretty much a lead-pipe cinch that Hardly would have given it to him again.

  

• Hyena and Dirty Dancer got down-downs for doing their best Grand Theft Auto impressions, telling an old man they'd help him replace his windshield wipers while actually plotting to steal his quasi-clunker car.

  But a passing police car prompted the thieves, er, boys to abandon their nefarious plans. So Mr. Dancer fixed the problem, and they were on their way.

Ms. Made and Ms. Beaver are already plotting for what they'll do for next year's Proctologist Run, maybe go to medical school or date a doctor or possibly consume even more beer.

Ah, the dreams.

On-On!

Duke of Hurl

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