Run 335: SpringbaaaaahBok Party

The usual shenanigans and festivities kicked off with zero walkers in sight and Baah Sinister acting as the hare. He blamed his car breaking down—an excuse strikingly similar to the front line of the All Blacks when they lost to the Springboks… again. True to his current state of despair over the All Blacks’ thrashing, he didn’t even bother setting an actual trail, which is highly unusual for him. The loss was apparently so devastating that he has now completely defected to become a Springbok supporter.

The terrain consisted of gravel and a bit of bush—just enough bush for the discovery of newly hatched baby spider birds that successfully put the fear of god and all things sacred into Eno. The run was scored as a 6.9 km run, and after a gruelling 9 km (Nearly marathon distance – so that might knock out some hash men from further runs) , though given the standard hash math it probably should have scored a 0.69.

Not laying a trail wasn’t even his most heinous crime; he also used his phone while on the run and, worst of all, debuted brand new shoes. Naturally, a shoey promptly followed, along with multiple charges for all of his numerous transgressions. There was no drink start or drink stop either, but he managed to make up for it with a Boerewors and onions entree followed by Springbok steaks. The steaks were a little thin—likely Kiwi steaks, seeing as they are also small and insignificant, much like the All Blacks pack.

We were treated to a cameo appearance from our ex-GM, Pepe Le Spew, who managed to escape getting overly roasted despite acting GM Eno’s preparing a lot of material should the need arise – but he did receive a charge for the treacherous crime of Hypocracy. Pepe received an incredible, handcrafted new drinking vessel: a cup of concrete with the letters “HTFU” hand-engraved into it. This ensures that whenever he feels like having a sook, he now has his own dedicated drinking vessel, which can even double as a wine glass (or a fleshlight)—except on Tuesday nights when he doesn’t drink.

Since Eno is away next week, there will be no Netflix stories or bad jokes, but you are likely in for some tennis as Ballbags takes over as the hare.

On On,