Pinelake Hash House Harriers Run# 552
Saturday, July 19th, 1997 2:30pm
Office Depot --- Peachtree Industrial

Exploring the Mystery:
Ratís Ass, Afterbirth, Catamite, Mushroom, Clay Sims, Ding Dong, Miss Deed, Sleazy Rider, Defeshit, Redneck Mutha, Dr. DooDoo, Krusty The Clown, Leave It To Cleavage, Fergie Dick, French Made, Self-Basting, Lee Stenberg, On The Rag, Sneak A Peak, Tailgunner, Newterd, Kaptain Krash, Slippery When Wet, Cheetah, Todd Harles, Put A Cock In It, Pull My String, Short Stump, Dr. Crotchrot, Wisecracker, Niplets, Lame Bahrain, Wet Dreams, Tastes Great, Testiclees, Butt Nutt, Brown Hole, Cums Collect, Swamp Rat, Breastroke, Good Head, Keyboard Queen, Hired Snatch, Bullshit, MC Hasher, Virgin Master, Minnie Brew, Back Seat Box, Holy Dick

Jan Cox(s):
 Armadildo Tired Dick

Where was I? Oh, yeah, and so just when everyone was really starting to deeply furrow their collective brow over this whole "mystery hare" scenario (Armadildo had backed out, it was supposed to end at a pool, she has a pool ...) we were off and running, hands waving, tongues wagging, screaming and whistling up an unsettling racket that could have easily scared a meddling group of teenagers out of an abandoned mansion, scooby snacks or no.

Thatís when I heard the sound of a fibia and a tibia coming apart in unison, and turned around to see Miss Deed go down like, well --- anyway, she went down. Silently. And rolled to a stop, and steadfastly announced: "I just broke my leg ... a little help, please!?" as if sheíd shanked a serve into the adjacent court. The pack formed an awestruck knot around her, like Kalahari bushmen around a Coke bottle. As she gently went into shock, Tired Dick whipped out the military background: "Come on, you pukes! Nothing to see here! She broke her fucking leg ... what are you worthless yutzes [my word] going to do for her?! Letís go --- Come on!" and so forth, until he discovered that hounds need a different kind of persuasion: "Come on now, thatís a good pack, <whistles>, thatís right, here we go ... NO! Bad Pack! Off the leg! Down!!" (My apologies for two weeks in a row of dog/leg sexual inference. And in any case,  no way does this suggest that we rename Ms. Deed "Dogleg").

So we vermin, guiltily sporting two healthy legs, tore off to resume the trail. I rounded a building, and went down. Like a bowel movement at a bingo parlor. This was getting spooky, an 8th of a mile into the run. We slipped and narrowly averted double fracture along a slippery creek, then checked up a hill and across a football field. Trail led down the road for a while, and hit a check, but Swamp Rat and I werenít biting, and continued straight down the road on true trail, until flour veered right and into some thick woods. After quite a bit of thrashing and whatnot, we came into a clearing after negotiating what looked to be a big loop. A check had some folks confused, until Yours Truly took up the cause and found flour going by an old cabin, and into a deep creek. Trail continued up a hill on the other side of the creek, which we dutifully slogged up, consciously sparing our ankles any undue strain. At this point, Redneck Mutha and I shortcut across a militia compound, and met Tailgunner on the road, who was doing a little ranging. In the spirit of the moment, we joined him up the road, as the rest of the pack filed on down the creek. At the top of the hill, myself and Very Fast Guy split off to the right, over a fence, and into an apartment complex where we found trail. V.F.G dissolved into the ether, and I found myself alone for a nice, quiet Hashing Moment, until Catamite came screaming down the hill behind me, with obvious and irresponsible ambivalence towards the spectre of possible lower leg breakage. We eventual joined up with V.F.G, and headed into the crik ferí a spell, banjoes cranked up, and we gave each other copious amounts of nervous sideways glances. Then Catamite went down, like Rod Stewart at a kennel club.

We were out of the creek in 15 minutes or so, then dripped our way across a park, and down the street to the pool. Where, surprisingly, to my knowledge, no one went down, Niplets
Bimbo: Afterbirth
Scamming on Fresh Meat: Catamite
1st time PH3: Clay Sims
Too Long: Tired Dick
Misnomer: Afterbirth
Ran AH4: Virgin Master, Minnie Brew, Back Seat Box
Too Studious: Holy Dick
Private Party: Tired Dick, Redneck Mutha, Krusty The Clown, Newterd, French Made, Fergie Dick, Short Stump, Niplets, Lame Bahrain ,Cums Collect
100 Runs: Tired Dick
Hares: Tired Dick, Armadildo