Hares: Full of Sheet, Stinky, Cums When Wet
Where: Parking lot of the South Glenmore Park pumphouse (Go West on 90 Ave from 14 St SW to Oakmount Drive)
On In: Friar's Pub in Glenmore Landing
A small army of ill trained, but well fed recruits staggered up for an evening's abuse last Monday. And they were not disappointed! The 922nd running of the lambs of Pumphill was unceremoniously unleashed on yet another unsuspecting neighbourhood.
After a nearly brief introduction and a not quite marathon announcement binge, the hare substitute, WhaleWanker, read a short paid diatribe from the real hares, who had decided that marking a trail 1.5 minutes in advance of the herd is plenty of lead time, and had announced a 'livehare' scenario: this merely caused the assembled sheep to begin bleating wildly and frothing at the hoof.
So, with no further ado, the herd was released into the wilderness which contains the drinking water for half of our fair city.
Talk about pollution! Following the trail was easy: the hares placed huge quantities of flour at all appropriate junctures. Enough flour was used that a cursory examination of the area would instantly lead to the police believing that there was a bakers' convention in town. And they were gone amok. Or they were rising up. Or they kneaded a break. Or they were bread to roll.
Huh. Oh, yes, the trail was twisty, and the flour was kicked up in such huge plumes that the fire brigade was called to quell a grassfire. And then, the shiggy began. Huge tracts of prime real estate were trampled into sludge by the eager little hash sheep, bleating and whimpering as they slogged through slime and grime, poo and goo, muck and guck. All in a vain attempt to drown out any hint of civility or demeanor with whiffs of real, unadulterated shiggy. oh yeah!
Ah yes, the feeder for our mighty Glenmore reservoir was getting a right good roiling tonight, if you know what I mean. After realizing (for the nth time), that THIS trail can only go one way back, the stinking herd was then seen to drag itself out of the swamp and onto the bike path for the return journey. Many a local resident had their olifactory senses assaulted by the passing of this wretched mob, hurrying as best it could back to the relative comfort of it's natival environment. And speaking of bars, there we were, back in one again.
Friars (Glenmore Landing) has treated us well in the past, and tonight was no exception. Food, and Beer. All over that. The RA for this evening's trial by abuse was HotFlashes, and here's the scoop:
Our Choir: Ptooey, Dreary, Lakey, Twisted Sister made large noise.
Our hares, Stinky, Full of Sheet and CumsWhenWet were properly LAMBasted.
TongueTricks, claimed she had Beaver Fever already, but hadn't drink a drop of swamp water: so, which orifice would you assume that Beaver Fever favoured?
Apparently, the befuddled hash RUNNERS were silly enough to brag about catching a hare (a onewayin - onewayout trail,who whouldathunkit?)
Anyway, Smirk, Krusty, Lumber Jack and WetOne all were just not smart enough to keep that feat quiet, and were downed for their misplanted feet.
Anyone wanting time off work with broken body parts should apply to CigaretteGirl for he has a special way with luck: as in, none for those around him. Poor Shagadelic and now HotTail can attest that He is a Ouch, my damned mouse bit me, see you at the hospital CG.
Hey, TootsieRoll, did you think the swamp was some kind of degenerate fashion show for perverts? Switching the order in which you wear clothes on the run is probably not as sexy as you think. Especially after sitting on a block of ice for 1/2 an hour.
NewBoot Louise was named FoundationGarment for her choice of sweatshirt, and it's logo.
Another NewBoot was left with her streetname of Monique, but there's lots of time for that to change.
Visitors Rambler and StretchMarks were also downed.
HOTDog got the HashShit for getting much too much pleasure from the spanking fetish she seems to have developed when I wasn't looking. While downing the plunger, HOTDog threw the dregs onto the floor in a feeble atempt to electrocute the RA by shorting our her sextoy/microphone with beer.
WetOne was admonished for fucking up the plastic parrot at our previous weeks' venue. I hope she had fun shrinking KingShits weenie with her beer. Or was she just marinating it? (she should aim for a bigger cut of meat)
Anyway, onto the nolifeyet awards:
Question? RIGHT BUN, I had a down-down and now I'm drunk and
I can't get it up (generally referred to as Whiskey Dick), never mind drive my
car home. What
can I do???
Answer - Hmmm..... A good question!!!! Mismanagement and all of the other hashers don't want to see you drinking and driving, so if you get an unexpected down-down and don't feel that you should drive home, the hash will reimburse you for the cab fare