Pinelake HHH Run# 563
October 4th, 1997 2:30 pm
Indian Creek Marta Station

Another Nuptualatory Hash
this time, honoring the lovely Put A Cock In It, and her whipping boy, Cumcierge
Show some intestinal fortitude, kid. Sign up for a January hash, or get the hell out of my sight ... youíre no son of mine!

The Rectally Bleeding:
Sleazy Rider - Love Byte - Tripod - Ouch - Rosy Cheeks - Free At Last - Back Ho - Dog Man - Cums Collect - Go Blow - Paola Prevet - Sioux Z - Krispy Kreamer - Leah Pinniar (?)- Whiner- M.C. Hasher -Tiny Turret - Ram Jet - Skippy Dick - Afterbirth - Catamite - Asspacker - Minnie Brew - Back Seat Box -Beavis -Beavis II - Tom Blank -Wayne Langford - Kaptain Krash - Niplets- Little Pussy - Sucker Balls - Fuckiní Pesto Chicken - Rose Barron - Dumb Bell - Lost Cause - Breaststroke - Butt Nutt - Fergie Dick - Circle Jerk - Viper Vixen -Short Stump - Tort Tart - Screw Ewe - Coffee Bean - Doggy Style - Holy Dick -(bimbo) Wilma

The Marginally Qualified Proctologists:
Bunny Banger & Sanitary NOT!

We waited. And then, we started waiting. Finally, after some hot (for October, for a northern aggressor) standing and mulling and more or less waiting, we decided that the honored couple were off performing unspeakable acts. In the dewy clover, or wherever. Having more fun than us, the folks dressed in wedding regalia wilting out on the asphalt at Indian Creek Marta Station. The Marta Justice League seemed almost predatorily interested in our little gathering, patrolling us in circles, spiraling inward, until I damn near wigged and threw everyone out of the boat.  A few words were spoken, mysterious "wedding checks" were explained to equate to regular checks, due to bride+groom tardiness. By the way, my pedicurist/stockbroker says hello.

I shuffled off toward the entrance to the station, my legs next to useless (damn squirrels). As we scooted clear of the start, the rosy cheeked and disheveled Cumcierge and PACII pulled into the station ceremoniously. Oh good. At the first road, we encountered one of them check thingys. Fergie Dick checked right, and found flour, and chose to notify everyone not with a the traditional yell of "On-on!," but with something approximating "lawn-yawn," as if he were cradling baby chicks in his mouth, or very small rocks, or something else ...

We embarked on a pleasant jaunt through some small wooded and weed-covered areas, and some neighborhoods, and crossed over I-285 for a little more road running. We approached what looked like one of the hares proffering water into the cupped hands of the runners, which upon closer inspection turned out to be bird seed. We each took a load, and ran a little farther ahead where we showered the newly shackled.

The group mulled while hounds went checking for trail, and no sooner had we headed down the road when off to my left, I see and hear natural forces bent in furious opposition. Fergie Dick offered some resistance, but the low branch he briefly fought had the upper hand. Battleship Fergie continued down the hill, a little more wobbly than usual, and a lot more colorful speech-wise. The little drops of blood on the road didnít bode well. Trying to raise my voice above the din of invective that continued unabated from The Incredible Dick, I stopped and screamed at him to for christís sake stop. Something got through, or he got a mouthful of blood and started wondering, because he stopped and turned around, and what I saw before me was Carrie wearing a rucksack. In a moment of (relative) clarity, Fergie trudged back up the hill to the wedding check to get cleaned off and drop off the sack of bricks. Then he apparently continued the run unfazed. He later quipped  "Itís all right, mate, thereís nothiní up there anyway!"

Trail continued up a hill and across Memorial near the detention center. We cut across a strip mall parking lot and behind some buildings into an apartment complex. What followed was a decent road hash,
back and forth through neighborhoods and apartments. We barely made it to the water stop, which had just arrived at a dead end as we approached. The water was sorely appreciated, the hash  was on the long side and it was still hot as hell. A little wooded trail, then some more road hashing brought us to the backyard of the hares, and an ice-cold untapped keg which haunted us for a good 15 minutes before the hares arrived. Down downs were delivered with a hurried vigor so we could launch ourselves at the amazing spread Bunny and Sanitary had provided --- the food also deflected any chance of an Auto-hashit for the mockingly unattainable beer at the end (gift horse, etc). What a nice day it was.

Plop plop fizz fizz,

Down Downs:
Virgins: Paola (from France, where bread is a weapon), Tom (from Perry), and Wayne
Naming: Rose Barron is now "Cum-by-ya"
Visiting Filth: Beavis (Perry), Dog Man (homeless?)
Too Long: Sioux-Z, Sucker Balls

***a note from the other side***
PACII and Cumcierge would like to extend a warm and squishy thanks to all of the delightful, splendid, and confused folks who contributed to the Home Depot gift certificate. Rest assured that any garden implements or household fixtures bought with your generous donations will be used, if not primarily, then at least tangentially, as marital aids.
***end note***

$$$ Buy Stuff $$$
Green Tís (and ham) $10
Sweatshirts (great stocking stuffer!) $17
Sarongs (A PH3 Best Buy) $3
Hats (pamper that bald spot!) $9
Stickers (satifies!)  $1
Woodstock Tís (peace, love, and cotton) $8 to Afterbirth
Other Tís (adopt one now!) $10
Fanny Packs (great for colostomies!) $5
Bottle Jackets (guard your beer from harmful UV rays) $5