Run #854 - Fish Creek Hash
Inaugural Run

April 9, 1999

Hares: Dreary & Mum
Location: Golden Acres Garden Sentre

A hugely successful rout of the encroaching Cowboy Camp was executed on Friday evening by a group of inebriated and concerned citizens. We'll tell you how, at 11:00.

10:59

The peaceful grazing of local sheep was interrupted at 7:11 on Friday night by the mournful bleating of another herd of "sheep that pass (out) in the night", otherwise known as The Fish Creek Hash, on their inaugural foray into baa-baa land.

A masterfully laid trail was completely mangled into a F*&^ up by the usual group of overly cocky FROPs, and their entourage of sheepish... Er, um, sheep.

Shiggy to the left of them, shiggy to the right of them, ran the 600 (-572.5). Into the land of the Giant BEAVER they merrily wobbled onward. Huge tree trunks lain waste by the evil BEAVER. If she wanted something to chew on, she had only to ask a Hasher.

Wait, there's RightBun, crashing through the bush with the ferocity of a jilted bullmoose on scent.

And now, far off in the distance, BobbinRobbin is almost as completely off trail as any good FROP has ever been, wandering around some 500 yards from the nearest mark. Way to go BR.

Closer in, we can see THE HERD as it careens onward, occasionally looking on the ground for the telltale marks of REAL TRAIL.

Popcorn snow, especially laid on by the remarkable hares d'jour, bounced off the trees and grasses, threatening to obscure the delicately placed REAL MARKS, but even when the REAL MARKS were SEVEN FEET TALL, they were missed completely once again by the intrepid (but blind) FROPs.

Much muttering was heard about the south Calgary banana belt not being what it was, and that how much the interloping Northerners had done it, and had changed the weather and caused real estate prices to plunge, and caused their tires to go flat, and raped their dogs, and made the beer disappear, etc, etc, etc.

But I digress, or do I,. Now I wonder if I should just wander off into a little diatribe about horses, and chickens, and cows, and trucks, and sheep, and sex.

But I digress, or do I:
Eventually all was done, and all were back to Dreary's bar&grill for down-downs with Guest RA BuytteHead as the emmC for the dirty deed.

The choir was chosen: HOTDog, Lakey and Stranger did the deed delightfully.

The fabulous hares were downed: Mum, Dreary, PoleVault.
Knobby got beer foráá something about shiggy, and chaffing, and got a FCH name of Shiggy Dodger

KingShit, BobbinR and Jaws were (lots of jostling lost this note too), anyway got the choir's rendition of "It's a shiggy world after all"

It was all either PV's, or Dreary's, or Ptooiee's, or Bobbin's fault for not being able to either apply, or see the highly defective chalk that was, or wasn't used on the magnificent trail (that you didn't see).

Oh, and BEAVER became QUEEN BEAVER for the FCH.

Oh, and a sexual offence between LeftBun and Hopless was reported as a fence straddling fiasco wherein they both got tied up in barbed wire for the evening together. And it was good. And then they drank.

Then Knobby and Beaver, then Knobby got cramps.
Then ButtHead got the HASH SHIT for not introducing the Virgins and archives...
So he got pissed on.

And then we introduced them:

Wannabe came, and made Jackquie cum too. And were both downed, along with
Hopless for cumming at all
Then, a BIG RED BARN hoedown was crashed by a herd. It was the kind of situation that probably caused Huutu's and Bosnian's to tremble in their boots/soles: A clash of cultures. Luckily neither the RedNeCk Cowboy's nor the FCH lycra butts had any culture or class to spare, so the clash was of the lowered brow, and muttered curse, and musical taste type.

Speaking of musical taste...

I left early, just when the Horse shit frisbee started... dodging beer cans, and laser light shows, and wailing gittars, and got HOTDog out of there just in time:
I hear Roy Roger's horse was making a speech sometime later, in the ladies' washroom.

11:00

ON - ON

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