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Our hares for
tonight are notorius
Laying shiggy trails that don't bore us
While that always sounds great
Ha! You won't know your fate
Until well on your way, then TOO LATE!
Here's to Harelip Dog
and to Casual Friday
Harelip Doggus no bite us
Casual's shiggy no soak us
St Pete Coppus no catch us
In the name of the flour
And the holy run,
H3 #412 From a Hare Point of View
October 2, 2008
Hares: Harelip Dogg & Casual Friday
weeks of scouting incredible shiggy; Harelip’s trail was set in stone, I was
prepped, and we were ready for another shiggy-vicious trail. There was just one
snafu; the park closing before the hares could be away, was not on the schedule!
Therefore, we had just 30 minutes to pull a new trail out of our butts and make
sure we wouldn’t get snared. Okay, I was the one who wanted to make sure we
wouldn’t get snared; as I’m still on a 7-year roll of haring and no-snaring
(maybe it was the time to give that up). We had just enough minutes to make a
muti-bagged stash-drop half-way, as we would need all the toilet paper we could
get our hands-on for the live-laying through shiggy.
GRC rallied the pack for our blessing, and it is still unclear which harrier was responsible for scaring off two young and eager virgin harriettes. Harelip and I were off and it looked like things were under control; we could hear the hash aerobics starting after we cleared the bushes. The pack was in good hands as Purity of a Hooker had the head-giving under control.
Everything went like clock-work, until I spent too much time laying bad trails for the FRBs who would be the ones to catch my snail-paced butt. I climbed over a locked fence leaving behind an article of clothing for the FRBs (hoping they wouldn’t see it), and yelled for Harelip. No answer from him meant it was time for me to chug-forward with the trail! I scooped up all the stashed bags of toilet paper; not wanting to leave any for the FRBs to find in case Harelip didn’t get there before them. I took 69 seconds to catch my breath on the road and realized it was getting dark; and suddenly safety was an issue. At that time, a large truck slowed way down for me; stranger danger! I thought I was about to be MIA from the world (grab and go)! Thankfully the truck picked up its pace and I ran forward dropping flour with 6 plastic grocery bags of toilet paper swinging around me and throwing me out of any balance I might have had.
Harelip caught up to me just in time as I missed a turn on powder I was supposed to mark and would have ended up running out of toilet paper in Plant City. I really was just happy we weren’t caught yet, as I looked at my watch and Harelip started to panic. We turned on our flashlights as it was “go time” for some heavy shiggy that we were barely familiar with. We knew where to go in, and in general where to exit; it was all up to luck to get the two places to meet up with each other. Luck had it that we got lost in our own darkness and toilet paper scraps; so many painful saw grass palmettos, and only so much tender skin left to hack up! While desperately searching in the dark for that one specific pine tree that was our clue to exit the shiggy from hell, the whistles were blowing, and the three FRBs, Where’s My Goat, Racing Stripes, and Gatorate My Penis were right on top of us! They were so close, that we had to turn off our lights, cease our cussing, drop to all fours and scurry around like ground squirrels; as we had to keep moving to get the hell out of there! It was like being stuck in the middle of a creepy “Marco-Polo” game from the Twilight Zone! Since we couldn’t speak or we’d be snared, we did a lot of touching and pointing and finally made an exit with a blast through a bunch of prickers and palmettos. The FRBs were just 6 feet behind us, but stuck in the thick shiggy, looking for their own way-out among all the toilet paper shrapnel. So I did the only thing I could think of to slow them down. With half the forest stuck in my hair, I bent down and drew a hash halt into the cement, hoping they’d see it with their flashlights. The next panic set in when we saw that the beer angel, Phuk Pocket, was not in place. Harelip flagged her down from 3 blocks away, and reminded her with eyes as big as saucers that the beer stop was a hash halt. Leaving a trail of blood, we ran around the corner and waited for the pack to get to the beer stop, as we had to back-track on trail to get to the finish (I told you we pulled this one out of our butts!). The next snafu was the pack of turkeys that were stuck on the first impromptu hash halt that saved our arses from the FRBs; they couldn’t move forward to the beer stop! Oops! While we were in hiding just a few feet away, Harelip blew his whistle and yelled “on-on!” The Gods were shining upon us, as that released the turkeys from their self-imposed halt and moved them to the beer stop. We waited for a passing car to light up the first hash halt to make sure all wankers were clear of our crossing, and ran like two bats out of hell!
As we just pulled into the home stretch and were feeling pretty good about it, Phuk Pocket yelled to us from the passing beer van, “You better hurry; they’re on your ass!” Holy shit, we weren’t out of trouble yet! We ran our heaving chests into the finish with only 2 minutes and 69 seconds to spare, as Gatorate was the first to show. We pretended not to suck wind and it was difficult to fake the profuse sweating and shaking, as we welcomed his ass to the finish with a cold beer in our hands.
If only the FRBs knew the woodland creatures they heard and ignored in the shiggy were the hares…
If only the turkeys knew it was the hare who released them from the bondage of the first hash halt…
If only I knew the “stranger danger” was Saigon Sally looking for the pack.
If only Sally knew it really was me with all those darn bags on the side of the street, and not a homeless bag lady…
If only Phuk Pocket read the 12 foot by 12 foot map that I gave her to find the one left turn she had to make to get to the beer stop on time…
If only I would have given the Forest Ranger a sexual favor, he might not have closed the park gate until later; and I’d be writing a totally different hash trash from this hare’s point of view…
At circle; Gatorate received the chain (again), Sally tied one on for 10 hashes, the hares got the brainless award (what that was all about, I still don’t know), and I’ll Take ‘Em Both showed up again to be the prettiest Beer Bitch in Florida. Blood on trail was compared, and with much laughter, the hash went in peace.
Jolly Roger H3
of the Tampa Bay Metro Area
Thursday, October 2nd, 2008
in the northwest corner of Derby Lanes
Greyhound Race Track, located at 10490 Gandy Blvd, in St.
Petersburg, FL. Its across the street from Kahuna's Bar & Grill.
From I-275 and Dale Mabry, in Central Tampa:
From Wesley Chapel, to the north:
From Bradenton/Sarasota, to the south:
From Brandon to the east:
From the Gulf Beaches, to the west: