Wednesday, February 27, 2002
Hare: Shadow
Meeting Place: Betty's, 240 King Street East

I arrived at Betty's and found the pack drinking beer at the back of the bar. The place was packed and it looked like I might have to stand. Fortunately Kazoo was attempting to befriend some normal people. As expected, they just panicked and ran out of Betty's screaming - leaving a number of empty seats and several unfinished beers (jackpot!).

Cums On Demand soon joined us and immediately began to brag about the new vehicle he'd just purchased. He claimed his new car was a Jag, but I suspected it was really just some mini-van with racing stripes and one of those "If it's a rockin', don't come a knockin'" bumper stickers. However all of the other harriettes present were suitably impressed by his imaginary sports car and began fighting over who would get a "ride" first.

As I looked around some more, I noticed that Peniscillin from OttawaH3 has decided to come for a visit. I asked around, but no one could remember having invited him. Peniscillin claimed to be in Toronto on business, but none of us believed him. Hogtown had sent Birdbrian to our country's capital for OttawaH3's annual Winterude weekend. Perhaps they were now exacting revenge by sending Peniscillin here to hang out with us.

The pack eventually headed outside and circled up. The whining began almost immediately - and for once, Rose Eh's voice wasn't the only one I could hear. It was pretty d*mn cold, and Shadow had that "I-set-a-really-long-trail-in-the-cold-to-piss-you-off" smirk on his face. The pack was about to set off when late cummers GagsALot and GladHeAteHer arrived.

As we ran trail, I couldn't help but notice that Bottom Scrawler was running with his hands down the back of his pants. Now I know guys who hang left and I know guys who hang right, but I've never met a guy who hangs so far back that it's easier to get a good grasp from behind. Aroused (my curiosity, that is), I ran up to Scrawler and asked him what the hell he was doing. Scrawler patiently explained to me that he had forgotten to bring his mittens (poor little kitten!). Scrawler went on to describe that years of E-coli Challenge adventure racing had taught him that the best way to keep your hands from freezing in the winter is to shove them down your ass crack (especially if it's a hairy one).

While we lazed around a check, Scrawler kept right on talking and told me that French Tickler had flown out to Vancouver that very afternoon on business. She was going to be away the entire weekend - leaving Scralwer at home by himself. And what did this harrier have planned for his big "back to bachelorhood" weekend? A kegger? A poker game? A big cake with a stripper in it? Nope. Scrawler was looking forward to two straight days of sitting on the sofa in his pajamas, eating order-in pizza and watching re-runs of the Golden Girls on TV.

I was suddenly distracted by a group of harriers standing around Dr. DooLittle. They appeared to be in some kind of trance - a few were even drooling. The reason soon became apparent. Dr. DooLittle had just finished recounting a recent lesbian encounter during which another female kissed her on the mouth. The fact that this female was a three-year old girl Dr. DooLittle was baby-sitting did nothing to dampen the rising interest and growing curiosity of the harriers.

To distract these perverts, Sex Toy began talking about the upcoming Daytona Beach H3 weekend and mentioned that she hadn't packed anything yet (even though she was flying out the next day). However this lack of luggage didn't appear to be a problem for our On Sec - as Sex Toy volunteered that she might not bother to bring clothes at all.

Overhearing that Sex Toy would be leaving on a jet plane the next evening, Birbrian decided to launch into yet another monologue on the safety of airplanes. Most of the pack had long since decided never to fly again based solely on the fact that our GM works for a company that builds aircrafts. Birdbrian did nothing to calm the pack's fears when he explained that a plane cannot be certified for flight until it's had at least one emergency landing. Makes me wonder what they do with the planes that don't crash. Send them to the dump?

Back at Betty's the pack managed to piss off the waitress before we even had the chance to order beer. Soon a replacement wench was sent to our table. While the rest of us tried to be as polite and civilized as possible (because we wanted beer), COD terrorized our replacement server by inviting her to drink out of the bedpan in a pathetic attempt to pick her up. When this didn't work, he tried to impress her by explaining why mini-vans go faster if they have racing stripes and offering to take her for a spin after her shift.

Down downs were eventually handed out for the following trail offences:

Peniscillin - for visiting
Shadow - for being the hare
Dr. DooLittle, Spanks for the Mammaries and Bottom Scrawler - for back-sliding
New Shoez, Cumcussion and Birdbrian - for getting lost on trail
Cums On Demand - for trying to pick up a waitress
GagsALot - for bringing new shoes
Birdbrian - for urinating on trail (using a gas station bathroom)
Peniscillin - for directing traffic
Peniscillin - for leaving stuff in Kazoo's car and expecting it to be safe
Sex Toy - for ordering the GM around and telling him what to think
Shampoo - for FRBing

On On
H2Ho