February 2013 | By: The Scrutable Scribe
Have We Had a Vowel Movement?
Aw noo, bru! It wuz ez hot ez a choirboy's clicker on Siturday it Saba for Slup Ut En end Slup Ut Oot's (ind the kuds') Waitingi Day run. We were sweeting like pugs whuch uz prutty fenny whun you thunk about ut because pugs don't sweet. Okay no more taking the puss out of the Kiwi iccunt (like feck).
So we all pissed off toward Jln Professor Doctor F' Tang - F' Tang Biscuit Barrel Rock and Roll Mango, sweating even more profusely than George Bush watching a Michael Moore documentary. I was wondering why there was such a dearth of early starters, when it suddenly became blindingly clear: there was virtually fuck all paper, and what there was of it was green. Also, it was the tiny confetti-like stuff you need the Hubble telescope to find; not the regulation (I made this up, but it would have been at least thoughtful, if not mandatory) long stranded, multi colored or newspaper or any fuckin' thing stuff that Ray Charles could find even though he's both blind an dead.
Anyway, so we were pounding away through the hellishly hot "Perumahan City" (Christ almighty, I thought new Australian suburbs were hot and ugly) with nary a tree nor any inadvertent concrete generated shade to be sought out; when all of a sardine we found ourselves descending mossy concrete steps into a fairy tale green, cool and trickling dell complete with lichen covered Buddha like statues and bamboo canopy. I turned to a hasher who I knew to have been recently short cutting (no names), (Konkorde) after a stunned silence and exclaimed "Jesus, you're a bloody good short cutter. We're in Ubud!"
This happened a few times and I've got to say it impressed the shit out of me. I was in awe of this hare's ability to seek out these gems in such an unlikely area. There was a great, groovy little grove next to a grave yard at one point. Gosh, it was good. These sojourns were surprisingly the equal of anything in Pejeng or Sobongan, or perhaps my standards have slipped over the last few runs.
Had we been led at this point under the Jln Prof. Doc. Master - of the – Universe flyover then back to the beer in short order, we would have been mostly happy campers, but this… ("Jaws" theme music followed by "Twilight Zone" theme followed by "Psycho" shower scene stabbing music) was not to be. I'm afraid it all ended in tears with trails leading to dead ends wherein the hare had given up the ghost and didn't have a vacuum cleaner handy to reclaim the miscreant confetti, nor a pair of tweezers. "Where was the last paper?" became the catch cry of the day as we stumbled sweating through the undergrowth trying desperately and unsuccessfully to get to the beach or across inconveniently located ravines, running into other lost Hash tribes cursing the hares and their ancestors, descendants, anyone who'd ever met them and anyone who had ever met anyone who had ever met those who had met them (uumm, yup).
But hey, what the hey, hey? We all had a great time and after a few Bintangs were ready to forgive Hitler. And all in all, it was a damn good run, consuderung. Thanks hares, it ain't easy setting a run anywhere and anybody who says it is is probably Whitebait.
We circled up and the tomfoolery started, actually it was more like johnfoolery and andrewfoolery, but as you know it is policy not to disclose names. As usual it started out with some kind of structure, but slid inevitably downhill like a slightly overweight, we won't say fat) fat hasher on a muddy slope on his arse, again no names (Comes Up) which serves him right for heckling everybody in the circle.
Jangle Balls Joke, Jape and Jest Jamboree took us from bad habits in and out of the nunnery to the diminutive "Horth Whithperer" via the Big Bad Wolf's ablutions and finally to a sperm bank robbery, all in the best of possible taste, I assure you.
It was a balmy sunset after a friggin' hot day and a long - arse run, so we drank like Barbarians at the sack of Rome. Sometimes there's no better place to be than in a palm fringed, cowshit filled paddock near the ocean drinking like fools and acting like idiots on a Saturday night. Let's see if we can't bring a little bit of this good, level headed advice to Chinese New Year celebrations next week. Gong Xi Fa Cai.
On on
