The Night of the Long Chopsticks

By Gunpowder Plod

The Hare, Dingaling, promised lightning, torrential rain and thunderbolts. What did we get? Clear skies and mosquito-free balmy breezes wafted in on the cool night mountain air of Ma On Shan.

The hare had prepared for the cataclysm by using shredded high-speed rail documents or some such which mostly blew away in the balmy breezes. There was some flour though.

Your scribe, thankfully, got completely lost at the first check, heading determinedly up a long flight of steps in the wrong direction. By the time he arrived back at the check, all he could hear were the plaintive wails of the pack on the hillside opposite:

I’m Not Feeling so Good Eunuch (having walked to the start from Ma On Shan MTR, car having gone to a graveyard in Kam Tin – he really is every  2nd hand car salesman’s wet dream), My Ankle’s Still Fucked/CotD’s Driver Salesman, Back Seat Driver/CotD’s Chaperone Mango, Catch of the Day, Gail Says No and stand-in Hash Beer One Eyed Jock

So your scribe made a half-hearted attempt to catch up but stopped to admire the views of the Shing Mun River and Tolo Harbour before descending for beer instead.

Here I found Hare Dingaling and Mrs hare cuddling and canoodling in a shelter and joined them before they got too carried away.

Eunuch appeared first; Jolly Good Run he says. Then Gails Says No, Mango and CotD, muttering darkly about a large rock slope with an inviting rope which, being a little too short, would have left anyone tempted to use it dangling over an abyss.

Ah, yes….

We had to wait awhile before OEJ stumbled in, scathing in his criticism and sticking the chopsticks in for what he called a really crap run. I think it became clear that he didn’t appreciate the suicidal, slippery descent on an unmapped path over rocks and tree roots to the bottom of the hill and a long slog back up the road to the finish. And not forgetting the fucking rope to oblivion!

Anyway, after this entertaining diversion, we all got stuck in to OEJ’s wonderful selection of obscure alcoholic beverages and crisps (Golden Balls being absent, we all managed to get a few) before we realised that the GM was still out there.

He eventually hopped in on one leg, grabbed the chopsticks off OEJ and plunged them unhesitatingly into Dingaling, heading not his pleading cries of GM! GM! (We’ve all heard THAT before….)

Mrs Hare protested not until she realised that she would have to drive home.

Before the circle, we were entertained with the spectacle of the GM washing all the gore off and treating his armpits to lavender scented deodorant while lustily singing (and demonstrating):