Ryan Park Hash

Run #1006, July 10, 2005

Hare:  Tinker

Location:  Ryan Park, Wickford.

Scribe:  Fuwangi Boner.

Weather:  Low 80’s, Clear.

Present:  Dr WHO, Fuwangi Boner, Basket Boom Boom, Dry Foot Fairy, Just Michelle (“Pond her (Pounder, Ponder?) on it”?), Bondo Jovi, Oozing SD, SESYB, WIPOS, Seamus, Ben, and late: Sneezergasm. Rare Sighting: Just Evelyn (See runs #783, 786, 902.).

Visitor:  Gives Great Head (Silicon valley H3, now CT).

Virgins:  Just Nat (Warwick), Just Mike (Wickford).

The Run:

It has been a long time between the run and this write-up. And I for one am sick of waiting for Dr WHO or Dry Foot to get off their *sses and write the f**ker up. So I have decided to do it myself. (Dry Foot has been doing too much of that lately, doing it himself, I mean, the wank!) And this’ll be a real write-up. None of those candy-*ssed bullsh*t asterixes or anything. I mean, what the F**K! [Editor’s Note: I like asterixes. Tough t*tty, Fuwangi!]

WHO was first to arrive, as usual. He needs a f**kin’ life! But I soon brightened his day and joined him. For a moment we thought we might be in the wrong place. A bunch of walkers, dogs and fishermen wandered through. But soon hashers began to arrive. In addition to the usual f**ks, a visitor and a virgin arrived. Gives Great Head had moved east recently from the Bay area in CA. He had brought a friend, Just Nat, from Warwick. They were welcomed. F**kin’ A! Dr WHO also ran into Just Evelyn. She had cum on three or four previous hashes. But as usual, she said she couldn’t run with us. She had donated a kidney to her husband 2 weeks ago. Some sh*t excuse! WHO offered to write her a doctor’s note allowing her to run. She declined. Go figure! At least she wasn’t headed for the airport.

At six-thirty, we were off. Working quickly, I chose the wrong path, heading northwest. For f**k’s sake, how am I supposed to know which way to go. The hare, terrified of being left alone with Bondo, called us back frantically. But Bondo and WIPOS found true trail. Lucky f**ks! They led north about as fast as f**king grass growing, on the causeway between parts of Belleville Pond. We all knew this trail pretty well. So it wasn’t hard to get through a few checks to the Railroad grade northwest, angling away from the pond. I forgot for a while who was hare. No, not f**kin’ WHO! Tinker! And a “Tinker” check was due. When we came to a check in the middle of the grade, I continued straight, egged on by Basket, the f**kin’ f**k! Oozing, SESYB and Pounder milled about confused. But WHO turned back and gave the signal to our visitors. Dubiously, they followed him east onto an overgrown path about 50 yards before the check. Sure enough, there was flour out on Warburton Ave, leading out to Rt 102.

Across 102 we went, entering the parking lot of Paul Bailey Ford. The farm animals usually seen on the right were quiet. I was f**kin’ disappointed. I knew a goat there once, if you get my drift. Sh*te! Trail continued as it always has out the back of the lot into Cocumcussoc State Park. Gives Great Head, Just Nat and WHO were together. WHO the f**k only knew what they were up to! They came to a maze of checks, Tinker Checks and falsies. They were very confused. They were miserable f**ks! Basket, Dry Foot, Oozing and I caught up. Their misery increased. We brought a swarm of deer-flies with us. Their misery was f**kin’ unbounded! Finally, Dry Foot found true trail curving west. This was by following the low ground in search of mud. Or sh*t. Smart. He led the newcomers. Trail was straight for a while. We crossed a small stream on a wooden bridge. One of the leaders, WHO do you think, removed the wooden bridge. That f**kin’ f**k! Why didn’t I think of that?

Trail then led south to an abandoned house. I was leading as we crossed 102 to find the lazy-*ssed hare, sitting next to his car. He pointed over to a small pond where the BC was to be found. Reused BC, from a few Halloween’s ago. What a d**khead! A cooler was found. I waited until Oozing, WHO and Basket were jumping in the pond, and stole the beer. What a f**kin’ laugh! They were too f**kin’ lazy to come get it, so we had a few, me and the new guys, who thought this was normal. I was getting a little nervous though. Gives Great Head had really muddy knees. What the f**k!

Well, the wanks at the pond had the Cheetos, so when Basket came and stole the cooler back, we didn’t fight it. And we wanted to see SESYB’s nipples after she jumped in the cool water. Those things could poke your f**kin’ eye out! But it was a very disappointing beer check. Bondo made it. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, along comes WIPOS. F**k!

The on out trail led WHO, Basket, Dry Foot and Just Nat on a circle jerk through Feurer Park. I hung back. Bondo was promised a shortcut. We moved on heading southwest to some powerlines. We briefly went south, but trail doubled back east. I of course, had no problems figuring this out. So I led Oozing , and Gives Great Head south crossing Lafayette Road. Bondo , the dumb f**k, decides to take off on his own. He was seen by Basket, WHO and Just Nat. The stupid f**ks led by Basket , decided to follow. I think the powerlines definitely affect Basket’s brain. Or maybe he’s just a dumb f**k all the time. The wanks crossed a swamp, and headed west to Rt 4, and a dead end. Ha, f**kin’ Ha!!

I led Oozing and GGH on true trail south without incident. We crossed through some fields back in Ryan Park now, and came to a parking lot on Oak Hill Road. The hare was there, smirking. He said that we were going to circle here, so we left Oozing and drove back to get some cars. Lucky us, we meet up with Sneezergasm at the parking lot. That’s one way for the hare to pad his bimbo attendance numbers. Meanwhile, back with the DFLs, supposedly Basket took over from Bondo. I don’t know about you, but I’ll take retarded over blind any day! He led them east to the RR grade (Right!), but chose north (Wrong!) Just Nat followed. Poor f**k! WHO and Dry Foot turned south, and led Bondo across Lafayette Road. Too bad they couldn’t lose the *sshole permanently! They continued south on the dirt road through the fields, without f**king up any more than usual. Oozing clued them in. While waiting for us to get back, a runner came by and asked what was going on. He was recruited to the circle. Just Mike. Another f**k who’ll never be seen again! Especially after Basket showed up. Sh*t!

The convoy arrived. WIPOS, Just Michelle, and SESYB were missing. Great f**kin’ work, hare! Lose the bimbos, and leave us with Bondo and Basket! F**k! The circle was started. Just as the ratings began, the lost f**ks finally showed up. WIPOS looked like his gear had been messed up a bit. Lucky d*ckwad! The run was given good numbers by the wankers trying to suck up as usual. For me: no f**kin’ shiggy, no f**kin’ injuries, no one lost on the f**kin’ trail. I don’t know what the total was, but I’m the one doing the f**kin’ write-up. -69! Ha! The hare cut the circle short so’s we could get food at the Oakhill Tavern. We drove back to the cars, and headed for the restaurant.

F**kin’ brilliant! Half of the *ssholes got lost. The other half found out that there was no f**kin’ food left at the f**kin’ place! The cellphones came out, and we went to plan B: a place called Gillian’s on Rt 1A. Bondo, the lucky f**k, wanked off into the night. The rest of us made it to two tables in the back, and finished up the circle. Hashit went to Basket. Why the f**k not? The virgin was queried: GGH made him cum, favorite barnyard animal is goats, yada, yada, yada. We tried renaming Pounder On It: “Disaster Bi Design”, “Leave it to Cleavage”, etc. F**kin’ lame!

They had a wine special, dinner and a bottle for two, so some of us (who aren’t uncultured f**ks like the rest of you wanks) took advantage. We sang some and seemed to be getting away with our usual sh*t. I was sipping my wine, and didn’t notice Dr WHO spewing some “Beer” across the table. And why the f**k would I notice that? He’s always spewing something. He set his “beer” down and I of course, grabbed it. I took a sip. Everyone was watching me, the f**ks! It might have been the wine, but something tasted funny. But pretty good, actually. Basket said it was his special IPA, warmed to body temperature. [Editors Note: I believe he meant: “I pee, Eh?”]. I think he might have been f**king with me. But what the f**k! Heigh Ho. And that’s what we did. F**k you all, you f**kin’ f**ks!

On On

Fuwangi Boner