Run #1043 - It Was A Dark and Dreary Night

April 15, 2002

Hares: Hash Test Dummy and Skinhead
Where: Jub Jubs Pub, 619 36 Ave NE
Attendance: 67

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Okay maybe it wasn't so dark, but it certainly was Dreary. And there he stood, looking like a dapper dude in street his clothes. Mum had been instructed to bring his gear but something in her subconscious blocked the thought out as she was leaving the front door. Could it be as they say in the woodpecker song, 'take a whiff, reeve...' Anyhow, Mum left his gear standing by the door.

At the circle, colour coordination was in fashion again. Hashers ran too and froe across the circle trying to figure out the colour of their gear. A tanned Bend over from Manzanilo, and a Hash Test on her way to Puerto Vallarta were whining about the cold. Choir Boy in the middle was a lime green. Free Ride back from Manzanilo was also lime green and headed to the middle as an archive. Hash Test said something about an orgy at a check back catching the collective's short attention span for a moment in time, Skin Head was on his knees, and then we were off.

Shortly after the circle Fukovie and Shmirk could be seen leading the troop at a brisk pace north along the Nose Creek footpath into a skiff of wind. King Shit also a FRB was seen 'up rooting trees and scaring wild animals...'

As the trail progressed, One Nut Sooo ratted on King Shit, 'he found a wet beaver in the creek but scared it away'. Kawky Whore ratted on 'Fukovie, 'he erased a check-back at the top of a hill'. Wet One, ragged on One Nut, 'hey Fag Boy how does it feel to be one of the smart ones'. One Nut gave wise council, 'hey, check out the alley' and Sneevil followed instruction obsequiously, running down said alley as well as over hill and dale (Who's Dale?) on the One Nut command.

Next we ended up at a regroup at Nutka's. The butler Lemster, had kindly put some cold beverages out in the backyard for hashers to partake. Lemster quipped a la Orville Redenbacher, 'but they didn't even try any of my all natural apple juice'.

After the regroup it was back to the on-in. Shooting Blanks was seem running around puddles. Hardly, Shack Shock and King Shit were seen observing playground etiquette and soon the pack was back at the on-in enjoying eatery and libations.

Many a hasher seemed to think that this trail was a Whalewanker hared. Maybe it was the elusive marks, the rustic on-in, or the length of the trail, but whatever it was, this trail just seemed to make some hashers nostalgic for a Whalewanker run. How soon we forget!

At the on-in, it was a bit of a blur. Left Bun planning Neon's 300th anniversary run mused, 'why can't he just settle for embroidered pants like everyone else... the global village, the betterment of mankind, sharing... how can I engrave a keg of beer?' Doris meanwhile poured some beer into my glass. Tiny Bubbles is in the choir? Dead Rear buddies get a down-down. Is it my imagination or do the RAs keep moving about? Doris pours me another beer. Boner has a birthday. Doris yells 'Shut the fuckup'. Hottie leads the choir, 'he ought to be publicly pissed on'. Doris pours me another beer. King Shit yells, 'Beaver Cleaver'. Eau Natural offers wise council. Pool Q pops by with the plunger waxing eloquently. Eau Natural drinks out of the plunger for another week. Doris pours me another beer. Mum and Dreary cavort to the tune of the sexual life of a camel. Pool Boy comments, 'thank God I'm not married'. Doris pours me another beer. Shmirk murmurs 'best run I've ever been on'. Left Bun pulls me by the ear toward the door and thus another hash has sadly come to an end!

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story!

On On!

Knobslinger

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