Runs #972 & 973 – Outward Bound
Posted by p2h3hashtrash on May 28, 2010
Hares: Cuntsultant (organizer), Blah Blah & Yap Yap (running)
Date 22nd & 23rd of May
Kep, the soft sound of a calm ocean lapping against a lazy, black beach. Kep, the smell of cooked crabs wafting across the quiet streets. Kep, the cry of birds in their jungle mountain abode. Kep, the quiet cracking open of a cold Anchor. Kep, the muffled belch of a happy hasher. Kep, the loud guffaw of a beer sodden runner. Kep, the blaring of loud music and dancing. Kep, the vulgar language of the night club…… ah, Kep.
Indeed the hash went to Kep with full intention of destroying what tranquility remained in this little slice of idle. The run included going down, coming back up, going down, going even higher up, going downish, going up up up up up up, going down down down down, going flat, ending in the ocean.
Comments from the run were diligently collected by the scribe:
Toxic Flop: “The hills are too small”
Mr. Tinkle: “Don’t mind me while I throw up on this here mountain Wat”
Leking Duck: “What do you mean this isn’t the halfway?”
Bikini Wax: “Ooooh, look at the crabs. Oooooh, look at the resorts, Oooooh look at the…. hang on, where did all the runners go?”
STD: “I demand more short cuts”
Scoutmaster: “Cancel all future short cuts”
Sarsy: “No more shortcuts!?! I’m going to go Goldman Sachs on STD’s ass.”
Pick Me Up: “they want the walkers to go up there? Bugger that for a game of soldiers.”
Chicken Little: “I’m not buggered, honest. I’m, er, admiring the view from Sunset Rock. Can we admire it for a bit longer? Please?”
Diapers: “I’m not deliberately taking the wrong path at each check, honest”
And no sooner had it begun, than the run was ended. Into the ocean went the pack led by the intrepid Chicken Little closely followed by Catwalk Boy who, for some reason, had a towel wrapped around his waist. Beers were sunk in the muddied waters at the end of the old pier and eventually a circle was convened on dry land.
That evening saw the pack finishing its evening on the opening night of Kep’s first, and possibly last, night clubish thingy. Tips played her first ever game of pool in pajamas, Little Willie provided a bottle of whiskey which didn’t last the night thanks primarily to Runs Well, Laverne declared pizzas smell funny and Blah Blah was proved wrong when he figured no-one would pick up the club’s only transvestite when a barang, not a hasher, did the deed.
The next day the pack piled into small boats and in a flotilla reminiscent of Dunkirk, headed off for Rabbit Island. Herring Choker started to lead the way for the run around the island however quickly found himself keeping Sarsy for company as the alcohol from the night prior raised its ugly head. Little Willie managed to mangle his toe however apart from that it proved to be a pleasant run around the island. At one point Runs Well did lead the pack up a false trail. How that is possible on a run around an island which has a track remains something of a mystery.
The highlight of the run was quite clearly Spike’s distress at urgently needing to relieve himself of the previous day’s crabs and pizza with about 2km to go on the run. This reduced him to a butt cheek clenching walk and hence earned him the hash name, Diapers.
Eventually the pack made it back in good time, despite Scoutmaster’s boat having to be towed due to a lack of fuel. And by the end of another nice lunch at Vanna everyone was happy. The pack was happy with the runs, Cuntsultant was happy to finish without significant debts, the bus driver was happy with his fare, and the good residents of Kep were happy to see us go.
On On
P2H3 Hash Trash Blog 
Sarsy said
Quite a number of hashers got stung by some mysterious animal in the sea – anyone figured out what it was? Apparently it has some kind of thin, white thorns…. Saw it when someone had like 3 of them sticking out of her big toe, ouch!!!