FULL MOON TRASH
FULL MOON TRASH
1st Analversary
Run
2-27-02
So there we were…nearly 20 wankers crowding the entrance to Doc Rockitts wondering when and who would be selected to hare tonight’s double Hash Bash. Tonight’s event happens rarely, and only when the stars and moon are in perfect alignment. The arrival of the Full Moon intersected a regularly scheduled Bay Area Larrikins gathering, bringing two houses together for the special occasion.
Ear Fucked and Guamarhea Balls were in a pitted battle of control from the very beginning, trying to figure out who, if either of them would be tonight’s hallowed RA. They actually had a cockfight! Luckily, it was with COCKSHOT, instead of actual appendages being wailed about! CHEMO, trying to stay above the fray, sat uncharacteristically (that’s a seven syllable word!!!) quiet, content to hawk the new Full Moon H3 t-shirts of TWAT’s feeble design. (Awesome, by the way!!!)
After some heated debate about already having hares selected for tonight’s scheduled Larrikins run, names are selected at random, and believe it or not, COP BLOCKER and LABIA OF THE RINGS are selected to hare tonight’s 1st Analversary of the Corpus Christi Full Moon Hash House Harriers! It’s a good thing, too, since their trail had been pre-laid for about a week and they were afraid their beer, already on trail, was starting to get warm.
So, without much fanfare, the hares are away. I feel sorry for any hashers who may have mistakenly thought we were actually going to meet at our designated On-Start location, paying tribute to the Sacred Whore, Selena. If you were there and you missed us, then, well…you missed us!
A couple of minutes after the hares departed, EAR FUCKED selects a very disgruntled secret hare #1, NICE PAIR-A-KEETS, to catch up with the hares. After much coaxing from BLUE BALLS, she reluctantly departs, taking her Jello Shot Blaster with her! As soon as she departs, EF’d tries to whip the rather sedate crowd of hashers into a frenzy by singing Chicago, but since he’s never been north of the border, he didn’t know the words. All the other RA’s, current, former and pending, watched in amazement. How fucked up can this trail be? And it hasn’t even started yet!!!
We would soon find out. After our required 4.57321 minutes of waiting, the Pack grudgingly faces the frigid air of the Corpus waterfront. With temperatures in the low 40’s, and a steady north wind whipping around 20 knots, it felt like Siberia on Water Street.
An immediate right turn out of Rockitt’s leads us to an unmarked intersection, just two blocks away. Hounds cover the entire downtown area searching for trail marks that were made this century. The Cannuck, JUST JUSTIN, who thought Corpus’ latest cold snap was a Mid-Summer Night’s Dream, was able to cover more ground on his two-wheeled conveyance, and even he couldn’t find hide nor hare of…the hares!!!
After much scouring of the downtown area, TWAT, GUAM, CHEMO and the burgeoning virgins, JUST JASON and JUST DAVID, follow trail down shoreline where it mysteriously vanishes somewhere near Whataburger. This is the second time the hounds have been fooled by this old trail from weeks past. The hounds congregate around the corner, scratching their craniums and their assess, wondering how they could have succumbed yet again to this evil and devious plan from hares three weeks past. Then, the faint sound of an on-on whistle is heard. It’s on-back to Q’s Sports Bar, known throughout the hashing world for serving the worst tasting beer in the universe.
As we straggle in, the barkeep pours us a pitcher of beer. Well, not one pitcher, but several! Five, to be exact. As we struggle to choke the last drop of sacred nectar, we’re given a clue that looks to have taken weeks to construct, another obvious clue that tonight’s trail was pre-laid. Our clue? On-On to Holiday Inn. So we’re off. COCKSHOT is in her flannel one-piece jump suit, clutching the long, lost QUASI DODO, who’s name won’t last the night. The two are strolling down Shoreline like two lovers out for a moonlit stroll. It was sick, I tell ya!
TWAT is the first to arrive at No-Tell Motel. He inquires at the front desk for clues then squeezes his skinny ass through the hefty old fuckers at the bar to ask the professional beer bitch for a clue. She looks at him like he’s some sort of ‘carney’ from a traveling freak show, which he is, of course. Basically, she’s clueless. HARELIP DOG and JUST DAVID leave the warm confines of the hotel lobby, again in search of trail. GUAM, COCK SHOT, BLUE BALLS, CHEMO and QUASI straggle behind. GUAM, who must have been some sort of secret hare as well (Secret Hare #2), asks, "Well, did anyone check the outside bar for a clue?" For one, I didn’t know they had an outside bar, and two, who the fuck would brave the elements for a drink from an outside bar on a night like this? "You want ice with that??"
As the group stumbles around back toward the beach, a strange inscription is etched into the sand. Five ‘Xs’ are marked with flour on the beach. None of us can figure it out. Are they intersections? Is this a Bad Trail mark gone bad? What are they trying to say? TWAT figures that trail must go south, while GUAM and EF’d turn north. QUASI takes the sea wall, scaring a lone Blue Heron to death.
Finally, one of the hounds gets the idea that a clue might be found under one of the ‘X’s, like some sort of Robinson Crusoe treasure hunt. After much digging, a bag of ice and sacred Miller products is found for our quaffing enjoyment. At this point, I was hoping for a cup of hot chocolate and a blankie, but beer will have to do.
While drinking the beers, we realize that we still don’t have a clue where the clue is. Where do we go from here? Alas, CHEMO, secret hare #3, reveals himself by stating that this must be the on-end, so we’re back to Doc Rockitt’s for a break from the cold and REEEELigion…
Since I was sooooo drunk by all the nectar on trail, I can’t remember a damn thing from Reeeligion, other than we renamed Quasi Dodo. Hell, I can’t even remember what we renamed him, and I even WROTE IT DOWN! Man, I can’t remember shit! Oh well. If you were there then you probably know and you can tell me this weekend at…
San Antonio’s 769/TXIH02 Pre-lewd weekend, Mar. 2-3, 2002, Mathis, Texas at the KOA campground.
On on
Harelip Dog