Run #334 – The Sprung Run aka Running with the Bulls(hit)

Well, here we go again. The hare, Fresh Meat, decided that setting a trail from the infamous dogging park simply lacked ambition. Naturally, the only logical way to upgrade dodging, dodgy, doggy-style, dirtbags in the dark was to drag us straight through a paddock containing an active, sleeping bull. Absolutely brilliant.

Ballbags, our glorious RA, finally slunk back from his pilgrimage and dragged a new pre-run ritual along with him. Taking the knee before a run? Unless you’re getting down there to suck some sausage, leave that nonsense up in Broome.

While on the topic of extra spice, the sheer, overachieving parade of condom—sorry, condiment options provided at the end was worthy of a formal charge. None of us were charged by the bull, but we had to dodge some shits almost bigger than the one Baah took outside Derro’s apartment sometime back.

*Update on Baah’s dump – apparently the shit was so big they used it as the base material for another big shit’s statue in Victoria.

Back on the actual trails, Baah and Ballbags charted what was allegedly a well-laid stroll, complete with a designated drink stop. Ballbags somehow opted to skip the booze, while our resident sheep-shagger inexplicably failed to neck the spare bevvie. Safe to say he’s still mourning the thrashing the All Blacks copped over the weekend.

The trail itself was heavily marked with flour, chalk, and paper. It quickly became obvious that Fresh Meat wasn’t being thorough; he was just being lazy, tossing out half the shop so the markings would survive until tonight’s run for a different hash.

Arsenic, Derro, Eno, and Fresh Meat trotted through the course and somehow slipped past the sleeping bovine unscathed. The real danger, however, was internal. Derro decided to enlighten Eno about the mythical Spider Bird. A quick check proves this nightmarish creature actually exists (pic below).

I am genuinely considering pulling a Pepe and quitting the Hash forever. If I run into a Spider Bird in the dark, there is zero chance of survival. None of us stand a chance. I am now wondering if all that fresh shit in the paddock was actually cow shit after all…

*The Circle & Nosh*

The circle was fast, furious, and merciless. Our poor raffle winner was handed a personalised CD, which felt entirely appropriate after Eno spent twenty minutes droning on about his WhatsApp group names.

As for the nosh, Fresh Meat completely forgot where he was. We were hit with two types of gourmet snags (none of that cheap supermarket trash), minute steaks, white and wholemeal bread, properly chopped onions, actual salad (what are we even supposed to do with leaves?), and a bloody chocolate cake. Fresh Meat, mate, this is Covid ReHash, not a Michelin-star catering event aka the Gourmet Hash.

We do the whole circus again next week in (Cum) Coom babah with Baah Sinister laying trail.

OnOn,