Run 2060…Hare: Phantom

Run 2060

Run: 2060


Location: Bundall

Hare: Phantom


A couple of sayings could best describe the events of this run. Never judge a book by its cover and life is like a box of chocolates, as you never know what you are going to get, especially if that box comes from Aldi. A warm Monday evening under clear skies with an early start on a public holiday were the best parts of this debacle, which will go down as the annus horribilis nosh with its template for lack of gustation and an overall recipe for a gourmet disaster.
As hashers arrived to the Phantom’s cave, it didn’t look too shabby with tables, chairs, eskies, fresh bread rolls, chips, crackers, cheese and dips all ready to go. Some brief instructions had the runners heading towards Benowa and the walkers to the nearest shopping centre. The promise of a drink stop made it even more appealing. Over near the Benowa Tavern, Missing Link encouraged runners to cross the road and head back east towards the retail precinct near Harvey Norman. From then on, it became apparent that this event was going to be unusual and words similar to Harvey Norman, namely hardly normal, came to mind. Firstly Truck Tyres wanted to know where was the drink stop ? He was advised that there was only a drink stop for the walkers and not the runners which he thought was a piss poor effort on the hare’s behalf. So it was back across Ashmore Road and on home to the eskies where the runners knew that could get a cold refreshment.
There were plenty of nibbles to munch on. In fact they never stopped. There were party pies, meat pies, small sausages, small chicken rissoles and plenty of condiments to add flavour to the cardboard box nothing like canapes. The heated up fast food was like the servings at a buck’s night but without the strippers. All the while, everyone was thinking what delights would be served with the bread rolls. Soon it became evident, the wait was over and it was a tender chicken and turkey banquet, at least that’s what was written on the side of the can. Yes, can and with the label, My Dog. Fucking cans of dog food were served up to hashers in a completely unacceptable breakaway from gourmet fare. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the hare proceeded to slice up some sort of doggie strass luncheon, placed the contents in a bread roll and put it in his mouth. Was this some sort of misguided prank ? No, it was for real and so much so that a hungry Weekly was heading down the same path too until hashers told him it was dog food.
However the hare then attempted to redeem himself by serving up jars of smooth peanut paste to spread on the bread rolls and then place a slice of plastic cheese on. Out of sheer desperation for some real food, some hashers had a crack at this while others stuck to the chilled refreshments. Hot cross buns topped off this bizarre nosh. The GM decided to bring some sanity into the evening by calling a circle before there was a riot of pissed off hashers. Miscarriage who apparently cleared out early to lead the runners said it was a very lonely run without another hasher in sight. The walkers had gone down to the shop, had a Hammer and Tongs beer and came home after the most of the runners. Hare, Phantom, gave some sort of bullshit story about how the nosh was supposed to be an insight into geriatrics food for all of us down the track when we will not be able to afford real food as we will all be cash strapped. Maybe some of us will have to scale down and sell our yellow BMW’s parked out the front and get a Go Card if it means a choice between canned dog food and a burger for a decent feed.
The returning runners and visitor were welcomed into the circle with Mad Mike, Sir Slab(fresh from a US ski-ing trip with Magician) and Ballpoint’s Tasmanian mate, Inlet. As Sir Rabbit had wore his black sunglasses on the walk, RA Shat called him out as a Tom Cruise lookalike. Maybe there is a Mission Impossible movie to be shot in Chirn Park in the offering down the track for this hasher. Caustic Crusader called out Tasmanian’s Ballpoint and Inlet as 80% of Tasmanian drivers drug tested failed. At least with these two Tasmanian heads in the circle, it raised their combined IQ level to a level so as to be able to be accepted onto the mainland of Australia.No doubt Inlet will never forget the evening’s GC hash nosh which just wouldn’t be served up or compare with Tasmania’s delights.
With no one asked to speak on the nosh, Kitchen Bitch stepped up and unloaded. He advised that he had left the Hunter Valley’s wine and food trail, endured a 9 hour drive to be served dog food shit and the cleanout from the Aldi freezers. He even offered Phantom tips on heating by suggesting taking the spring rolls from the packet was a far better idea than just heating the box hoping the spring rolls would somehow cook themselves. KB further stated that if he had known that he could get away with just serving peanut butter, he would have never slaved away in the kitchen for hours on his noshes.
By serving that amount and type of nosh for consumption there is always the chance of some sort of adverse reaction. First up was the Phantom’s dog, who dropped a bad smelly fart and then collapsed on the grass. But the biggest explosion came out of Ferret’s arse during a quiet moment in the circle. He however was able to stay upright. Last week, the GM told us about his run ins with the security in his new gated digs. Miscarriage, who was absent in Cambodia at the time, stepped up to tell all about this new member of their gated community who was running amok with his speeding and parking antics. Surprise, surprise, Miscarriage’s new neighbour creating the mayhem was none other then the GM who had told all a similar story the week before the issues he had faced.
Hash jester, Iceman, told the circle a joke about a Rabbi doing Christian confessions with a Jewish twist by giving discounted penances for multiple counts of adultery. Most agreed that Iceman’s jokes are on the improve.
Next week’s run will start at 6 pm as a prelude to Anzac Day and in memory of Moonbeams birthday. As the dinner will be in the Nerang RSL club, remember to dress accordingly to gain admission or you may have to face up to the left over cans of My Dog for nosh.
In the absence of the incumbent POW, Now Loved, the hare no doubt missed out on picking up the trophy for the week. However, there will ne no such dodging of a bullet, as only a miracle will save the hare him from figuring in the nominations for possibly a couple of awards at the AGPU.
A reluctant Sir Blackie again needed some prompting to get the words out to close the circle of RPR 45.
Yours in hashing

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