First Anal Fourth F**k-up Hash

Run #1057, July 3, 2006

Hare:  Cum Under

Co-Hare:  Oozing SD

Location:  Troy Ave., Conimicut (Warwick)

Weather:  Clear, 80’s.

Present:  Dry Foot Fairy, Dr W.H.O., Fuwangi Boner, Amish It Head, Microhard. Visitors: Friar F**k, Mr Rogers. Non-Running Hashers: Bungy, Just Thalia. Hostess: Just Stephanie. Party-goers: Ask Oozing.

The Run:

The Independence Day hash started with great promise: Basket, Bondo and Ben were in N.H. (Only Seamus was missed.) The beginning was from the home of Just Stephanie. She was setting up a very elaborate Fourth of July Party. With food and everything! And the hashers were invited! Then, as they gathered waiting for Co-Hare Oozing to live-set the beginning of trail, there was entertainment in the form of a loud crash followed by several minutes of drunken shrieking profanity. There was a car accident on Rt 117 a block away from the start. The hash watched as the drunken female passenger of a near-totalled sedan screamed at the drunken driver of a barely-scratched pickup truck. The confusion only increased when the highly suspicious-appearing Co-Hare set out to live-hare. He almost immediately tried to lay some white powder down right next to the police officers at the accident scene. What a start! But it was all downhill from there.

The group gave the Co-hare the requisite 15 minutes to avoid arrest, and then set out to a check mark at the accident site almost hidden by broken windshield glass. A single mark in each direction split the group. But Dr WHO had noted an arrow at the opposite end of Troy Ave. while parking. He was tired. He was lazy. So he turned back, and met the Hare sneaking to the shore on a path between houses. He called on-on. The rest, led by Amish and Microhard followed. Trail followed the shoreline east.

They picked their way along the rocks, slippery and covered with seaweed in some areas. But nothing you could call shiggy. When a check was found, trail briefly turned back onto the streets. But Friar decided that the shore was more pleasant and continued along. Mr Rogers and Fuwangi were marching to their own respective drummers, and were ranging in search of marks by the ballfields on Winter Ave, or over at Apponaug Cove. Dry Foot led and joined by WHO snared a frustrated Co-Hare, who began swearing mightily at the Hare. He attempted to deceive the two by leading back to the shore. But they persisted in the streets. And were soon able to lose trail completely. They decided to try the obvious and search Conimicut Point. They continued east without marks on Shawomet Ave.

At this point, Dry Foot and WHO encountered the Hare in her car. She slowed. She asked them if they would set a trail and a beer stop somewhere out on the point. She didn’t specify that they were to go to where the Co-Hare was waiting. She seemed at least slightly confused. But WHO grabbed the beer (experience tells) and Dry Foot grabbed the flour. They set their own trail out to the tip of the point, and set the beer stop ankle-deep in the ebbing tide, surrounded by Portuguese fishermen. They were joined by the Hare and her daughter. Meanwhile Friar, Microhard and Amish gamely continued to advance on the shore. They were visible from the beer stop. But they didn’t see the waving hashers, and with the wind, couldn’t hear the whistles. They assumed all the activity at the point was just another group of Portuguese fishermen. The Hare was dispatched to rescue them. Dry Foot became a swimming instructor for the Hare’s daughter. Dr WHO maintained a firm grip on his beer. He practiced his Portuguese.

Fuwangi, tired of all this exercise, realized that the BC must be on the point. His keen sense of smell led him to the beer. (Or perhaps it was an adjacent group of cute 12 year old Portuguese fishing boys.) The hare, and Friar’s group arrived. Now, only Mr Rogers and the Co-Hare were missing. The group briefly worried about Mr Rogers. Mr Rogers arrived. Then they had another beer. Then, they ran out of beer. The Hare instructed them to run out to the park entrance. The Hare stayed to swim with her daughter. She discovered that it is in fact not wise to swim with your prescription eyeglasses perched in your hair.

Dry Foot left early. He didn’t need no stinkin’ marks. He headed straight back to West Shore Road and the party. WHO followed trail briefly down Elgin Street and into a Church garden. Trail disappeared. He came north to Point Ave. to meet Mr Rogers, Amish and Friar. They turned west. And met the Co-Hare. He was covered to the thighs with viscous, stinking, black mud. He did not look happy. Especially when the hashers had a good laugh seeing the trail of toilet paper marks he had just set along the salt marsh leading from the shore. Oops! They all had short-cutted! Ha, Ha!

Trail back was a boring meander through the neighborhoods back to Troy Ave. When all had arrived, they decided to circle in the water. They moved the beer down the path between houses and stood in the bay. This caused some concern to the adjoining property, where another Fourth-of-July party was beginning. When the singing started, the children were ushered into the house. The Hare had changed clothes and was reluctant to participate. She only went in up to her midfoot. The run was rated. The lack of shiggy, the excessive pavement, and the pleasant weather were outweighed by the Co-Hare’s vocal and whining annoyance, snaring of the live Co-Hare (not once, but twice!) the lack of Co-hare at the Beer Check, the near-arrest of the Co-Hare, the COMPLETE avoidance of the Co-Hare’s salt marsh, and the chance to ruin a few of the Co-Hare’s close friendships at the upcoming party. Add in the Hare’s lost glasses, and the new vocabulary words learned at the car accident at the start and, total: +69! The visitors were interrogated, the backsliding Microhard was punished and the hashit was selected. Unanimous, of course. The Co-Hare! The mosquitoes were biting and they food was beckoning, so they swung low and moved back to Just Stephanie’s.

The party was in full-swing, and the hashers dove in. Several attractive young ladies were accosted, and recruiting efforts went into high gear. Just Thalia agreed to rejoin the Dragon Boat team. One fortunate young lady was even alouetted. Bungy was sighted, and the circle almost reformed to punish her for her absence. But she has moved back to Tiverton, and Dr WHO knows where she lives. The singing started, only interrupted by the fireworks and bonfires on the shore. The food was plentiful and much finer than the usual hash fare. No one seemed to want any money for it either! (WHO didn’t pay?) All in all, it doesn’t get much better than this. WHO wants to make this an annual event! (Sorry, Just Stephanie!)

On On