Courtesy Brown Finger:-
Last Monday we were subjected to the Square dude’s infamous hill, the vertical wall of death that broke the balls of the entire male hash. This Monday it was the turn of Alice, the darling of the receding hareline, to test our metal. Would he attempt to out Rooter the Square dude or would he have mercy on our still recovering testicles?
The latest Alice A site was outback of the Grand Canyon. I had scouted this area about a month ago and found the forest trails largely overgrown and the fences more numerous than ever. So I was curious to see what Alice had found here to make a decent run out of, or maybe he was just going to shred our legs to ribbons on barbed wire and shiggy.
A brief enough hare brief showing trail paper with a pretty red “plimsoll” line and fashionable printed checks. One might wonder whether the co-hare, Taste My Buns, had asserted her femininity here, but then again, the hare’s name is Alice. And then we were off. Roads, barren and housed land plots and opened barbed wire fences made up the outward part of the run. Some tricky checks had the FRB’s scrambling all over the place and it was fortunate that we had a visiting Jesus Christ in our midst to enlighten us as to the true path to follow. After a while we clambered through a gully and up to and through a fence and found ourselves on one of those overgrown forest trails I mentioned earlier. But this time the trail was a little clearer and as we meandered our way gently uphill the shiggy gave way altogether leaving good running trails that we moved swiftly along.
After the wimp trail had darted off to the right, it was always going to be when and where Alice would decide to lead the rambos in the same direction, and this is where I was caught out the most. Every time a check suggested a right turn I took it, and every time true trail went straight so that I was down the hill and up again like a flamin’ yoyo. Nice work Alice.
Eventually we did turn right but by then I was a good distance behind the front runners. It was that Columbian drug smuggling weasel who waited until three checks from the end to make his move and there was no catching the sneaky little git from there, although Chucky, Graven, Suckit and I gave it a good try. Not sure how Suckit managed to stay out front for most of the run, he looked like a pile of pale pig shit before the run having spent his entire 60 th birthday celebrations sucking on several bottles of vodka and an everlasting bong. Happy birthday you old bastard!
Beer and splashes, and then back to town for burgers and stuff. Thanks for the hangover, Mr Banks!!!!
And thanks to Alice for yet another great Chiang Mai hashing experience. I see you are haring again this Saturday. With my testicles unbroken and the skin on my legs unshredded, I am looking forward to it already 