The Fuwangi’s Third Try is a Charm Hash (not?)

Run #1061, July 31, 2006

Hare:  Fuwangi Boner

Visiting Scribe:  Taste Like Chicken Leg, drumstick and âne de poulet

Location:  Stop and Shop, Mendon Rd, Cumberland, again.

Weather:  Hot and pitifully dry

Present:  DrWHO, Oozing, G@GH, Just Justin, Just Bobby, Dry Foot, Fuwangi, Amish Shithead, Basket, Bondo Jovi and Ben.

 

The Run:

This was not the first time Fuwangi tried to lay something here, not the second, and it most likely won’t be the last. But at least he’s up for it, unlike our last date, but I digress into whine mode. Sigh!

The hopeful pack gathered at the rear parking lot behind S&S on Mendon Rd. Each had their own private parking spaces now, as our frequency has caused management to keep us separate from the customers. Our names were on signs, with Async having the closest to the store, with a designation of “Hasher of the Month”, for his unswerving attempt to so frequently join us, despite having to catch the train from Beantown. Bondo was last to arrive and the moans from the pack for not leaving before his arrival was palatable. Ben was his usual annoying self, trying to get on with it, as Bondo tried to hide his bike in the back of his van.

After a couple beers, we set off in the usual direction behind the store. Async and WHO led the pack out toward the bike path, with Async and Dry Foot taking the bike path, followed by the bulk of the pack. WHO chose straight on, with Basket right on his butt. I’m sure it was not pleasant for either.

Cries of “On On” were heard from the bridge on the bike path, so they converged there, with most going north reliving the horror of this past winter’s ski hash, while a few brave soles went left and found true trail. Bondo continued straight on the path towards Berkley, ignoring the calls back.

The pack continued on towards the parking lot on Front St, led by G@GH and WHO, where another check had all confused. Basket had not been seen in some time and many voiced their concern about his well being. Meanwhile, he had continued out to Lonsdale Ave and thinking this Hare can not possibly come up with something new, ran directly to the bridge over the Blackstone, and found an arrow pointing down to the location of his last 2 whiskey stops here.

Basket blew his horn to call the pack on, and he blew and he blew. Finally deciding, “it was enough, f#@k them; I’m going for the booze.” He found a bottle of Makers Mark cleverly hidden under the bridge I beam, and upon hearing the pack nearing, took the bottle and hid himself and it under the bridge, while enjoying the smooth taste of success.

The pack arrived, sans Bondo, and the complaining Hare was whining that Basket stole the bottle. Spreading out in a search, the pack finally found him and all enjoyed the respite. Calls for the missing, but promised Trail Hoover resulted in no success; No one called for Bondo. A number of songs were sung and eventually all good things must end, so we continued back on trail.

We followed the river south, past a number of houses high up hill, with dogs barking and annoyed home owners wondering just WHO the trespassers were. The Just’s, Bobby and Justin, stayed close to the pack, for fearing getting lost in the high reeds and shiggy along the rivers edge. They were ecstatic when we turned uphill towards the roadway and out of harms way, however we quickly turned left back down towards the river and out along a well worn path.

Basket in the lead had stopped at a port-a-potty and was relieving himself, when he heard thundering footsteps outside. He peered out the screen and saw WHO and Fuwangii charging down to tip him over. He cut the stream short and beat it (out of there), and he continued straight along the river path at the check. Most tried to keep up with his speedy retreat, but Dry Foot, Amish and Justin went right following an arrow made by Oozing to confuse the RRB’s. At the end Basket found beer and tried to hide, in the water, from the pitifully slow pack. But it was too deep to wade across and the heavy beer would have sunk and been lost. Unselfishly he came back on shore with the catch.

Most arrived now, and opened beer as songs commenced. Bondo arrived somewhat later on his bike and shortly after that we heard calls of “RU?” from across the swamp. The lost Dry Foot, Amish and Justin had heard our singing and swam across the smelly green slime pool that separated us. All enjoyed beers and singing until the beer was gone, despite the smell of our late arrivals. Then we made our way out to Lonsdale Ave and back to the cars.

We circled up in the poison ivy between the parking lot and bike path, and gave the hare his down-down and an ‘Attaboy’ for being persistent and almost making this one work. Hashit was given to Bondo for the use of mechanical tools on trail and missing the first beer stop. The OnOn was at Tucks where the usual fare and beverages were delightfully consumed. Trail Hoover was called to find out why she didn’t join us, and evidently good sense overcame the urge to run with old smelly men in swamps.

A note from the scribe: While I may not have been there in body, I felt your pain. Having been close to the Hare on a number of occasions lately and having to listen to his bragging about the success of his endeavor, I sure his actual accomplishment at setting a good trail fell as short as his weenie.

TLC-L,DS&A

 

On On

Taste Like Chicken Leg, drumstick and âne de poulet