Monday, December 2, 2002
Hare: Mystery Live Hare (a.k.a. Birdbrian)
Meeting Place: Queen's Legs - Avenue Road and Eglinton

I have always prided myself on being the type of person who has many close friends. The kinds of friends who come to your aid in times of great need, who comfort you when you are scared, who give you a shoulder to cry on when the going gets bad and WHO DON'T LEAVE YOU ALONE IN DARK ALLEYS AT NIGHT. Sadly, on Monday, December 2nd 2002, my naively utopian view of the world was shattered (like the proverbial empty beer bottle carelessly dropped on the sticky barroom floor), when reality gave me a swift kick in the ass and I realized that nobody really cares.

Looking back, I now recognize that my supposed "friends" were all just faking it. All those times when they claimed they were laughing "with me", they were actually laughing "at me". And on the many occasions when they sat beside me at On Ins - it was only so they could steal French fries off my plate and pour sugar in my beer. And when they invited me to their parties - they only did so because their TVs were broken and they were too cheap to hire some entertainment. But never, even in my wildest dreams, did I suspect these people, nay - these monsters, would ever do something as cruel as, lets say (for example), LEAVE ME ALONE IN A DARK ALLEY AT NIGHT.

But enough about me …

Sex Toy and I arrived at the Queen's Legs early, and found Birdbrian sitting inside drinking beer. We walked over and sat down at the table with him. "So, you're setting a live trail tonight?" Sex Toy asked. "Yes. Yes I am." replied Birdbrian. "Do you think I'm buff?" he asked, changing the subject and flexing. "You know," he continued, "it is very important to be buff when you're laying a live trail because you have to look hot when the FRBing harriettes catch you and strip you naked. Hee hee hee! Maybe the harriettes will take off their clothes too… Mmmm… Naked harriettes… I wonder if they'll rub my belly? Oops!! Did I just say that out loud? Oh well. That's OK." Luckily Birdbrian's impromptu live hare lecture was interrupted by the sudden arrival of New Shoez - who also joined us at the table.

As the four of us sat there, two people who I had never seen before walked into the bar wearing running clothes. They acknowledged us, and each ordered a pint. When I asked who the heck they were, Birdbrian told me they were Just Laurie and Just Scott who had recently been recruited from a certain sailing club of ill repute where several Hogtowners also hold memberships. Now I have always been very suspicious of people who own sailboats. After all, any sane individual knows that it's bad to have a boat of your own and that it is instead much better to simply find friends who are dumb enough to buy a boat themselves - which you can then sail on for free. Rumor has it that some boat-owners are so gullible they'll even let you skipper their boat after you've lost their anchor! (But that's probably just another one of those urban myths.) I have always thought that people who actually own boats must be running away from something (perhaps a dubious past as an exotic dancer or brain donor?) since why else would they spend so much time on the water when they could, with must less effort, plant themselves in a bar and drink.

As more and more wankers trickled in, I realized that the minus 18 temperature, including wind-chill, was in no way keeping the undesirables at home. Next Trix R4 Prix and Kazoo arrived. And Bottoms Up came in not long after that. Great, just what we need - more boat owners. Now that it was too cold to sail, they had started coming out to hash with us more often. Unfortunately all three of them still stank like dead fish and polluted Lake Ontario water - which is one of the sad consequences of spending five-month's worth of your spare time on a vessel with no shower.

Before long, Just Tom walked in. As with all new boots, the entire Hogtown pack had done its best to scare Just Tom away. We made him sit beside New Shoez at On Ins. We pretended we couldn't remember his real name and called him "Ted". We showed him photos from the 2002 Buff-A-Thon. But he had proven himself a real hasher by refusing to leave.

Soon GladHeAteHer ambled into the bar looking unshaven and wearing dirty clothes. This is what happens when a woman goes on holidays and leaves her husband at home under the supervision of a deaf and blind albino Australian sheep dog (with questionable taste, no less). Scribe's Note: It has been indisputably determined that said colour challenged bitch must have questionable taste since she prefers Kazoo to any other member of the Hogtown pack. (I guess that's what happens when you can't rely on your sight and hearing to guide you.) GladHeAteHer appeared a bit agitated, so I asked him what was the matter. Mr. Home Alone informed me that his wife was returning home the next day and he still had a lot of cleaning to do - to once again make the house fit for human habitation and to convince HAZMAT to remove the yellow radioactive hazard tape from his front door. I was about to offer my assistance to help sop up the toxic waste spill left by the pack on his living room floor last week - but GladHeAteHer had already forgotten about the mess at home and was trying to sell Kazoo on the benefits of owning a disabled dog (apparently this gives you the right to use handicapped parking spaces).

A short time later, Birdbrian ran off and began setting trail. Twenty minutes later, the pack took off in pursuit. We found the first check just north of Eglinton. Here, some wankers check north, some checked right, and some just stood there, like a bunch of ugly garden gnomes, and waited for the more intelligent half-minds to point them in the right direction. I decided to check left and entered an alleyway. I soon found one mark, then a second, and finally a third. Yelling "On On", I ran forward until I found a dead end (no, not a cougar, a real dead end). Here I turned on my flashlight and searched for an exit, confident that the rest of the pack was close behind. They weren't. In fact, the bastards were nowhere in sight. It was then that I realized this was an unmarked false and that I was now standing in a long, dark alley ALONE - with a flashlight and my incredibly dim wits as my only defenses.

I panicked and dashed out of the alleyway as fast as I could, swinging my flashlight around me for protection as I ran. When I emerged, I caught side of Rose Eh's red Tasmania jacket disappearing around the corner towards Yonge. Overjoyed, I followed. I shouted Rose Eh's name repeatedly, but she ignored me (which wasn't at all unusual). I finally caught up to Rose Eh at a red light, where she was uncharacteristically jogging in place while waiting for the light to change. Then it dawned on me. This wasn't Rose Eh. It wasn't even Kazoo (the other Rose Eh). It was just one of those evil Running Room freaks masquerading as one of my friends in an attempt to lure me over to the dark side. So I ran away screaming.

I soon found trail again and ended up in some park. I was almost at the other side of the park, when one of my feet made contact with a patch of ice and I slipped. As I fell, I saw my life flash before my eyes. (OK - maybe my life didn't really flash before my eyes. Maybe I accidentally blinded myself with my own flashlight. But here's the relevant point: I was greatly traumatized by the fact that this accident occurred while I was, ONCE AGAIN, alone and I will have to undergo several years of intensive therapy before I can once again trust another human being.) I lay on the ground for a few minutes in a crumpled heap, trying to figure out how many bones I had broken and wondering if I'd have to be put down as a result of my injuries. Luckily the damaged turned out to be limited to a few bruises and a rip on the knee of my new HogtownH3 running tights. So I stood up and continued on.

A few checks and many, many falses later, I found myself back on Avenue road. Suddenly I saw a familiar figure in a red baseball cap bouncing along the sidewalk across the street from me. The Eerie Hash House Harriers jackets confirmed that this mystery man was Shadow (and not another member of that evil Running Room cult that had attempted to kidnap me earlier in the evening). I was momentarily elated. Someone had come back to look for me! I did have friends!!

I ran up behind Shadow, gave him a big hug and said, "You came back for me!" "Yes… I did." responded Shadow, with hesitation in his voice. I few minutes later he admitted that he really wasn't out looking for me and had, in fact, managed to get himself just as lost as I was. Shadow explained that he tried to head-off the hare at the second check by running east to Yonge Street, while the pack followed marks west. Sadly this attempt to outsmart Birdbrian had backfired on poor Shadow and he was now going to be denied the great pleasure of catching Birdbrian and pulling his pants down in public.

As we ranged together, Shadow suddenly stopped and said, "Listen, I think I hear the pack." But it wasn't the pack. It was just some crazy man running down a residential street repeatedly screaming a female name. We weren't quite sure if he was calling a runaway dog or if he was actually some kind of mass murderer who was pursuing his next victim. Either way, I told Shadow I was glad he was there to protect me. In return, Shadow told me he was glad I was there too - because then I could distract the psychopath while he ran away.

We eventually made it back up to Eglinton, where we ran into Bottoms Up. Shadow and I felt a great sense of accomplishment - we had finally found the pack again! Well, it turned out that Bottoms Up was lost too. At the last check (apparently near some school) Bottoms Up had decided trail must run in one direction while the rest of the pack went a different way. Together the three of us began searching for marks and eventually found the Beer Check, where we were greeted with shouts of disappointment from the rest of the pack, who were hoping they'd never have to see us again.

Back at the Queen's Legs, Moonman handed out Down Downs to the following (from what I can remember):

Birdbrian - for laying a crappy live trail
Shadow, Sex Toy and H2Ho - for traveling to Sarnia to hash on the weekend
Bottoms Up, Just Laurie and Just Scott - for being backsliding sailing freaks
Shadow, Bottoms Up and H2Ho - for getting lost on trail
New Shoez - for catching the hare

On On
H2Ho