Thursday, May 23, 2013

Trash # 333

Sometimes people just miss out on a really shit run. Okay so the Gibb was on and that swallowed a few and it was raining but hey, it is May after all and where were the rest of you? Hippy Shagger, Half Tit and Slowcum made an effort to make a memorable run, starting with paint markers that should keep the trail fresh for a while. And those bits of construction tape adorning the trees on the highway don’t look like decomposing any time soon. And then there’s the stories that are probably still winding there way around 4 mile about the satanic cult hiding in the Melaleuca quinquenervia when it was really only a bunch of hashers having a hash halt around a floating fire while ankle deep in a paddock of water. I’m sure that’s what the guy thought when he stopped, backed up and then sped off. They wouldn’t have found any tracks next morning as we headed south through even deeper water and mud before coming out in the middle of nowhere to find an On Home and no fucking idea where we were or which direction to head. And where was Doggie? Off riding a bicycle! Being lost is a good way to keep the pack together I guess. And 3ks isn’t that long for an on home anyway. Back at Cult Central, there was a circle lead by Tightarse who either forgot which cult night it was or was dressed in the latest May fashion. I’m guessing most people made it back or drowned in the swamp but all the same it was a small cosy circle. In a classic example of size doesn’t matter, I can’t remember the charges in a small circle or a big one either. But there were some charges. No shirts was one. A girl drank out of a shoe. Sorry girl, it's late and I can't remeber your name. (that's funny I recall using that line before). HS sat out the circle on an ice chair and I’m guessing it either shrivelled up or snuck in the closest hole to keep warm as it was a cold night and lots of ice and speedy tightarse was taking his time. So no Shagging for Hippie that night. The food was as shit as the run. Cajun Chicken, Thai Chicken and fancy salad with freshly roasted pine nuts. Then home baked cakey things with mouth burning jam inside to spread a little testosterone around. Everything totally shit but at least it didn’t rain! 

Just noticed it was run 333 which is half of run 666. Wow that's a cult sign if I ever saw one. I also just remembered that the testicle on the barbed wire fence was not part of the ritual, it was just that Techniclour Yawn had a little trouble getting through the fence into the swamp.

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