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May 9, 1999

R*n #21:
Fire Bell Pub in Elmhurst
Hares: EZ Sunday and Specklebird

Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Hashers

  • M is for the Miller Beer she gave me.
    O's an oil can from our Aussie mates.
    T is for Tequila poured to save me.
    H is for her Harp that Guiness makes.
    E is for her eyes, bloodshot and swollen.
    R is ripped and ripped we'll always be.

    Put them all together, they spell mother,
    The gal who's always getting drunk with me.

EZ Sunday and Specklebird decided to ruin a perfectly good Mother's Day by setting a perfectly good hash.  Apparently there are a good 30 or so orphans in the Chicago area, since we were blessed with a pack of just that size.  From Pole Pounder to the North, to Nipstick from the South (Houston); from Hot Dick to the West (Australia) to Sue to the East (Panty Ho's sister from Boston), everyone wanted to hash.  We even brought in 10 virgins, 8 of them from the Elmhurst Running Club.

Things started off peculiarly enough, with a B to A format.  This meant walking the better part of a mile to the start, just to get closer to the shiggy.  All the way Wildman was marking trail to the start, while curious newcomers trusted us to inform them of the tortures to which they were about to be subjected.  After introductions to trail marks and each other, we were off, criss-crossing over compost heaps and railroad tracks.  We eventually followed tracks to a check by thequarry, which led to....more tracks. 

Another check had the pack stalled, giving me time to catch up from my investigation of the quarry, and off I went across some highway.  True trail, of course, went the other direction, across a school yard, but I saw yet more tracks crossing the highway and investigated, much to my short-cutting delight.  I was off blazing trail and explaining myself to two young teenagers, who followed for about 50 steps when they heard about beer, but hadn't the fortitude to continue. 

Trail took me to the river, where I checked up and down the banks and across the river.  Ankle deep, OK.  Knee deep, not too bad.  Scrotum deep, WOW!  Waist deep, this may not be trail.  Chest deep, hoping not to fall down.  Finally I dragged myself back up the bank on the original side of the river as a couple of Elmhurst newboots called us on trail, after waiting for a train that was crossing the aforementioned tracks.  (I'm told Horn-E also entered the river, but this is merely hearsay.)

I sloshed my way with the pack across construction sites to a mall, and into subdivisions.  After a little investigating, I took to paralelling again, at which point Elmhurst runner Kari said, ``I think the trail goes this way."  I laughed.  Then I r*n.  A lot.  I circled a park and a school, and ran into the pack once again.  We were off and r*nning, with Hot Dick leading the way.  We weaved thru subdivisions, finally arriving at Tom Wolff's (EZ Sunday's co-worker) house for the beer stop, where we were met by our normal back-of-the-of-the-pack gang, Rear Guard and Buffalo Nuts.

While we drank all the beer from the children's playhouse in the backyard, the Ho girls dragged their butts in, along with Speckie and a couple other laggards.  With the hash beer gone, Tom had to brave his wife and Mother-in-law inside the house to bring out a bottle of good beer from the fridge for our late-cummers.  When one of our non-beer-drinkers straggled in, I got to share a Sam Adams with Full Term, Tim Nelson, Molly Young and Speckie.

Trail resumed pretty much straight back to the bar, with a sandal-shod Yer Anus r*nning near the front.  We made it back and ordered cheap Labatt's for down-downs.  NRB, Peterbilt, was waiting for us, and he got to reminisce with fellow Houstonite, Nipstick.  Much of the Elmhurst Club failed to return, including the May Family, which had to relieve their babysitter.  Down-downs began out back at the behest of our bartender, then moved back in at the behest of the owner. 

Beers were drunk, chats were chatted, and we named Panty Ho's sister Two Bit Ho, just to keep the family name.  Memory fades, but the following wankers were also present, just not noticeable enough to be mentioned in the write-up:  Gaseous Clay, Polly Ringbald, Erect Da Red, Sex Lies and Videotape, and newboots/virgins Jimmy Kopf, John McKoane , Anne Klein, Randy, and Harry Testes.  Rumor has it that several unnamed hashers showed and left before we got back.

 - Soar Balls say, 2 balls large, due to huge turnout and family abandonment by a virgin hasher.

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