Run #883 - The Gap Run

Elvis the Un-known Hasher scribed here:

The growing, bulging, swelling, amoebic circling of the Hashers came on a crisp fall day, meeting first (briefly) in the warm pub. Not many brave souls dare venture outside on the cool autumn day... Much coaxing was needed to get a circle (poor choice of geometric shapes, closer to a shape that I created in art time in Kindergarten, with plasticene and dead bees.)

Interesting choices of attire were soon noticed, flashing lights, fresh-freckly-faced freaks and cock-eyed ball caps was the common theme for the hares of the Gap Pack!

The danger of being a Front Running Bastard is that you run on the edge! Edge of sanity, wits and reality. And a mall. The reality was that no one knew where any of the ON ON markings were laid. It soon became common knowledge that we would make our own little world fun with our own run of the day.

Shagadelic inaugurated the night by doing the lambada with an unwilling road worker. No means no, Shag.

Meanwhile back on "THE" trail... The aspiring environmentalists, the Gap Pack, led the mob through the carbon monoxide-filled parkade and construction zone, thereby filtering the noxious poisons from the atmosphere with our lungs. (Green Peace thanks us all!)

Boxing Day sales met the Running of the Bulls as hashers mingled dangerously with unwary shoppers, led by Batman, who ran like we haven't seen since he was at Bay Day.

Only a handful of Hashers were pronounced dead by authorities after the crossing of the 101 Interstate (names to be released after next of kin are notified), while the maimed continued undaunted, led by Flux You. Continuing on, like the trooper of forgotten battles, the Pack ran amuck through beautiful autumn leaves while residents looked forlorn and bewildered as the cries of ON-ON and ARE YOU? echoed through the night.

Meanwhile, back at the other ranch, Always with Wings led astray his flock of proverbial innocents down his garden path also known as...Blackfoot Trail. 007 took over and led us to a merge ramp, and we just weren't safe. Followers soon lost their faith as the temptation of the evil lure of beer from the Gods cried out from above - and down the street. (or was that a whisper from Thousand Pricks?)

Anyway back on the real trail...the runners with a drinking problem were heard to comment that the run around the reservoir made them thirsty and run a wee bit faster with the promise of beer looming ahead. Speaking of head, thank Allah that the hares had head lice (I mean lights) who would ever have found their way back without them?

The runners were off in the dark down the steep trail heading for the glorious greens of the Calgary Golf and Country club. Alas, at the last minute we were diverted and the peaceful tranquility of the cognac sipping Country Clubbers was spared. Back across the damn dam we ran weeee weeeee weeeee all the way home....

Once again the overwhelmed staff at Paddys Pub was stressed to the max by the swarm of beer swigging locusts. The beer was slow and cold, but the people were warm and friendly - SO friendly in fact Spanker Banker and Hot Flashes exchanged warm words of encouragement in the name of charity, they announced they were putting on a mud wrestling competition for Camp Horizon. (Oh! don't you love it when dreams cum true!!!) Stay tuned for further details.

Stranger and Oral Fixation were singled out for behaving like rabbits.

The final RA duties of Wet One and Fukowee were honoured with down-downs and a respectful applause in appreciation for the many laughs and badly sung songs we shared through the year. We pity Wet One's students. Lets hope they are not the recipients of her unleashed sexual frustration (Smirk can't you do something about that?) "Shut the fuck up" is just too darn harsh for our education system.

The wheel of hash/shit was spinning wildly as the RA's thanked all of the hashers in their respective categories.