Each Hasher with a Story Never Told Hash

Run #1033, January 16, 2006

Hare:  Basket Boom Boom

Location:  Chepachet, RI

Weather:  Low 30's

Present:  Amish It Head, Bondo, Cum Under PSHS, Dr. WHO, Oozing, Snotty (Heinfeld H3), Trail Hoover, WIPOS, Seamus, and Ben.

 

Prelube:

For reasons unexplained, Dry Foot Fairy, the assigned hare for the week, could not perform his measly duties. So who did he go to for help? No, WHO did he not go to for help. Rather, the assigned hare went to Basket for assistance. And Basket agreed, the lush that he is.

Needless to say, this would have been an uneventful, uninteresting, and unfulfilling hash, except for the fact that it wasn’t. Allow me to explain…

Amish hurried out of work promptly at 4:27 p.m. knowing that he had to cut diagonally across the vast state of Rhode Island, through rush hour traffic, in order to make it by 6:30. No worries, as he was driving his turbo-charged, custom-tuned 292 hp all-wheel-drive Subaru. Yet his mind was somewhere else, as this was the night of his anniversary with his girlfriend –they’d been together for two years now, and he told her, “sorry sweetie, but I’ve got to hash tonight.” So what was on his mind? He was thinking, “the make-up sex is gonna be awesome!” His thoughts could not be more wrong (but now we know why he's always smiling).

Bondo hurried out of work promptly at 4:29 p.m., just like any other day. Not in a rush at all, he went home to have a few Bondo brews to off-set Basket’s hoppy IPA’s (not to be confused with I pee, eh?). And then it happened – nature’s call. At 4:45 p.m. URI researchers in Kingstown noticed seismic activity in the realm of Woonsocket, which measured 5.1 on the Richter scale. They were perplexed: Bondo was relieved. He arrived at Cady’s with plenty of time to spare and glowing with satisfaction.

At 4:28 p.m. Cum Under didn’t know what to do. “Oh, it’s too far away, I’ll never make it”.. “Oh, I should just go”.. “Oh, I don’t know what to do.” After 15 minutes of internal conversation, she decided to go. And then she spent 25 minutes trying to find her hash clothes and cell phone. And then her cell phone rang, and she spent another 20 minutes talking while looking for her wallet. At 5:45 p.m. she finally pulled out of her driveway, just in time to hit the bulk of stop-and-go traffic along Rt. 44.

At 4:26 p.m., Dr WHO was retracting the flexible video endoscope out of his last patient for the day. As he did so, he noticed a strange object hidden inside the patient’s rectum. Dr WHO really, really had to go pee. But being the professional that he is, he asked for the nurse for an empty bottle. She assisted him dutifully. He didn’t even have to unzip his pants, as he simultaneously relieved himself while examining this strange anomaly on the patient’s inner rectal cavity She even tapped the last drops from him. He didn’t want to be late for the hash, so he told the nurse to have the patient schedule a follow-up exam. At 5:10 p.m. he was off to the hash.

Oozing’s last appointment was scheduled for 4:45 p.m. Like most shrinks, these appointments never last more than 10 minutes; however, today his patient was new. She strolled in like a movie star, and she looked like one too. Not the modern-day Hollywood types, but old school – Rita Hayworth-like. Oozing was captivated by her hips, as they swaggered over to his leather seat, in her short, tight, thin, single-piece dress. She sat down, clearly wanting a cigarette. Smoking was not allowed. She ignored it and lit up anyway. Oozing couldn’t object, so he began his routine of questioning with beads of nervous sweat on his forehead. He got to the most important and difficult question of his routine, and asked, “so, tell me how you are feeling today?” In her Sharon Stone-famous-single-motion-picture-moment, she uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them clearly displaying her…. one black one, one white one, and one with a bit of… [I digress]. Oozing was late to the hash, as he spent 30 minutes hyperventilating in the parking lot.

Snotty was supposed to help the hare set trail. At 4:30 p.m, he was nowhere to be seen, so Basket took off without him. Snotty was stuck in Providence, saying to himself, “where can anyone get a bloody decent pint around here! Those bloody Yanks don’t know a good pub if one hit him in his bloody ass.” (or something to that effect) And then it dawned on him that there was a hash tonight, and then it dawned on him that he was driving on the wrong side of the road. One thing led to another… yadda, yadda, yadda… and the police finally let him go after completing the accident report. Like Oozing, Snotty was late to the hash.

Trail Hoover arrived at the South Attleboro train station at 4:32 p.m. She would only have had to wait 15 minutes for Oozing to arrive to pick her up – or so she thought, sitting on the bench with the cool brisk breezy winter air touching her deepest nerves. Fifteen minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. She was reaching the end of her song selection on her I-Pod. She was getting pissed. She called his cell phone. No answer. She was freezing, nearing state of hypothermia. Angrily, she stomped her feet against the frozen concrete to bang some feeling back into her toes. 47 minutes later, Oozing finally arrived, with his windows open to chill his sweat. He was still sweating and shaking profusely: she was frozen to the core. (you do the math)

At 4:27 p.m. WIPOS was desperately looking for a missing layer of Kevlar ® (a registered trademark of E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company). It was cold outside. They were to run in the woods. It was dark. It was a Basket hash. Without his precious Kevlar ® (a registered trademark of E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company), WIPOS would have been doomed. 69 minutes later he found it on the top of his roof. Apparently, there was a small leak in the roof, and the only way to keep the water out was to use something durable enough to handle the wintry weather. Only Kevlar ® (a registered trademark of E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company) would have sufficed. With his trusty Kevlar ® (a registered trademark of E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company) in tact WIPOS was well protected this chilly evening. His home was not.

 

The Run:

Each of the hashers arrived at Cady’s with their own little adventure and story to tell from the previous two hours of their lives. What they should have done was go into Cady’s, order beer, and share their stories. That certainly would have been more entertaining and enjoyable than the actual hash itself. Be that as it may, the hare instructed the wankers to head across the street and into the all-to-familiar George Washington Management Area. Even Seamus and Ben were unimpressed with the lack of originality.

They quickly reached the Blue Dot trail and continued north. Amish blazed the way as every check was straight and north until they reached the Orange Dot trail. WHO was not fooled and correctly guessed westward along the Orange Dot trail. Amish the FRB was quickly DFL, except that WIPOS was telling Cum Under and Snotty about his Kevlar ® (a registered trademark of E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company) misadventures. Of course, with such intense and passionate conversations, they could only walk, not run the trail.

Upon reaching the Red Dot trail, Oozing, WHO, and Amish all headed southward toward Wilbur Pond. They guessed correctly – go figure. Trail Hoover started to lag behind as she never fully recovered from her hypothermic state. Reaching Wilbur Pond along the Orange Dot trail, they all were desperately seeking beer. This was perhaps the most eventful part of the hash, as the hare could not remember where he stashed the beer. Brilliant! WHO looked right. Amish searched left. WIPOS looked nowhere. Cum Under was confused. Finally, the Brit felt pity for the pathetic Yanks so Snotty quickly found the beer stash. All were content.

After some singing and quenched with beer, they departed heading south back to their cars and Circle was held. Positive comments included: No Fuwangi! No Dry Foot! Quality Beer! Snotty! Not one, but two quality bimbos! The negatives were too many to count, but all in all, the overall rating was +0.6.9! Hashit went to Bondo for reasons nobody understood or cared about. Despite that they were at Cady’s, the hare refused to order pizza. So they were stuck with eating Cady’s finest gourmet cheeseburgers (if one could call it that!). Nevertheless, that pretty much concluded this eventful, yet uneventful evening.

 

On On

Dry Foot Fairy