Run #1461 - ...and Lo! There was Shiggy

June 29, 2009

Hare: Hardly
Where: Fish Creek Park, at the south end of Elbow Drive
On In: On the Rocks Pub and Grill
Big Rock: by the creek and in the bar
Attendance:

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A nasty spill in a shoe-sucking muck bog made it look as though Rubber Made bathed her legs in motor oil. Swingin' Tail absolutely freaked out when she saw the corpse of one of Bobbin' Robin's relatives. And mosquitos as big as hummingbirds tormented hashers all night long.

In other words, it was nothing unexpected when you combine the words Hardly, lots and lots of shiggy, and Fish Creek Park.

Welcome to Hardly's dirty, nasty, slimy hash, where white shoes and socks turned black and smelly, Auntie Frank took a major dive, and various hashers' arms swelled up and turned red after they served as pre-dinner cocktails for hungry mosquitos.

Oh, and let's not forget innumerable crossings of Fish Creek, some of which took place in muddy water on slick rocks. Luckily, no one ended up floating down the creek, as best anyone could tell.

Hardly designed a trail that was 5.4km of challenges, major and minor. Only a beer regroup served as an oasis amid the mud party and bushwhacking. On the bright side, there were no bears or other wild critters — just a dead robin, which Bobby Robby claimed he sacrifices once a day just to keep the hash gods appeased.

It bore a striking resemblance to one of B-Rob's uncles, although he refused to confirm that bit of family tree-dom.

Before the run, the circle was abuzz — no, not with mosquitos — but with talk of two famous deaths: Billy Mays, the obnoxious and loud TV pitchman and perhaps the second most famous Mays besides Willie; and drug-addicted serial child molester Michael Jackson.

A second autopsy showed that the King of Kiddie Doinking actually died from food poisoning, an overdose of 9-year-old wieners and 12-year-old nuts. As for Mays, well, who cares?

After paying little heed to Hardly's instructions, the pack took off into the sloppy wilds of Fish Creek Park. It was almost as though Rubber Made and Auntie Frank, separated by 50 metres of slimy stuff, were in a contest to see who could take the first dive.

A video replay showed that Rubber Made hit the ground .42 seconds before Auntie, although Auntie stuck his landing just a tad better. The video also shows a petrified Swingin' Tail shrieking in horror at the dead robin.

Good times all around.

As the trail got longer, the mosquitos got worse. Sometimes it seemed as though hashers were in the wilderness, but then the LRT passed by, and a construction crane loomed in the distance.

After the beer stop, hashers and their water-logged and mud-caked shoes meandered back to the parking lot and up the hill to On the Rocks, where long-lost RA what's-his-name graced the hash with his presence and dispensed hash justice and gibberish.

Have a Safe and Happy Stampede, one and all.

On-On!

Duke of Hurl


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