The 1000th Run, The 1069th Run AND The 2006 AGM Hash

Run #1069, September 25, 2006

Hare:  Bondo Jovi

Location:  Woonsocket

Weather:  Low 70’s, Clear

Present:  Basket Boom Boom, Short Peck, Dr WHO, Amish It Head, Great at Giving Head, Just Kana, Justin My Ass, Eenie Weenie Dick, Oozing SD, WIPOS, Seamus, Ben.

The Run:

As your new Religious Advisor, I’d like to thank all WHO voted for me. What an honor! I hope your faith in me will be justified, and I promise to come to every single hash for the next year, even if Great @ Giving Head doesn’t drive. I plan to bring my close friend, Just Ariana, for some of these hashes. I hope to bring new religious life to the RIH3. I plan to stop Basket from getting naked, to cure Fuwangi’s addiction to wanking, and to keep Dr WHO from singing. Finally, I’d like to inaugurate my term by doing the writeup for the AGM hash.

I’d never been to Woonsocket before. What a place! And what a trail! Or rather WHAT TRAIL?!! Apparently Bondo Jovi, the hare, had laid marks only in the immediate vicinity of his own house, rather than risk getting lost (again?) in his own neighborhood. At first, I thought that this had been all planned out. But as we started I noticed Dr WHO grabbing a paintcan-on–a-pole as we ran off. I wisely decided to stick with him, as he turned right out of the hare’s driveway. The other choice was to turn left and follow Basket and Oozing. Ha! Amish, G@GH, EWD and Justin My Ass had no problem with this decision either. So Oozing and Basket went off, alone again. Later we heard that they had frolicked together for a while in Cold Spring Park along the banks of the Blackstone. No further details were offered or requested.

The rest of us then, were led by Justin My Ass, EWD and WHO. At first we followed the hare’s marks, but soon it became apparent that there was some re-marking going on, and WHO’s paintcan-on-a-pole contained flour. The trail led northwest on Woodland, turned right on Gaskill. A few checks led to some confusion, but we soon picked up the trail on Summer Street, which dead ended at a house next to some woods. Naturally, trail entered the woods. We crossed some brambles into another backyard, and found an abandoned road heading northeast. Short Peck and WIPOS were trailing, and found an irate homeowner.

The new hare now opened up a bit of a lead as he laid a check, turned back west and came to an overgrown pond. His trail led through some muck to the north side of the pond, and bushwhacked up a ridge, turning back northeast. This was some good trail. Garbage, thorns and mud! We all were starting to be glad we came. But we soon were disappointed to find WHO sitting on a rough bench in the woods. A “B” was marked, but no “b” was present. We only rested briefly, to see if Short Peck and WIPOS were in custody. Both were satisfyingly missing, so we turned back on trail curving back southwest to Warner Street.

Trail led back into Woonsocket, by a circuitous route. The hare stopped at corners and made check marks. He then waited for the FRB’s to make a choice, so that he could mark the opposite as true trail. Now this is an innovation in live-haring! Finally we came back to the real hare’s house, mostly because WHO was getting pretty thirsty, and WIPOS’s cab fare wasn’t enough to have an impromptu beer check at a bar. Bondo was surprised that we had been out so long. We were surprised and gratified that Basket and Oozing were still missing. But of course they arrived, and began to try to boast of their adventure. Luckily, WHO’s briar gashes were enough to shut them up.

The circle and AGM were combined. This was strange, but no stranger than the decorations in Bondo’s garage. He had tables with chairs, newspaper tablecloths, and old AGM handouts, yearbook, buttons and songbooks scattered around. As the group settled in with some Bondo “chili” (salt-free and highly inflammable), Bondo took charge. He gave himself a series of meaningless awards. Then he gave out strange things: a rubber cactus to Amish, and to Basket : a flask with a small statue that dispensed scotch through an even smaller penis. Reminded me of Basket coming out of the water at Effin’s. None of the boys seemed to have much trouble with a quick suck. I passed, myself.

Finally, the election of officers was demanded. Of course, there could be only one choice for GM: Seamus was unanimously acclaimed. As his first official action, he refused the penis scotch, lay down and farted noisily. For webmeister, also a foregone conclusion, the absent Dry Foot. There was a brief move to elect Dry Foot to ALL the other vacant positions. But after some clamor and ruckus, Amish It Head found himself Master of Ceremonies, and I found myself Religious Advisor. It certainly is an honor. I pledge to accomplish nothing whatsoever in the year to come, and hope to imbue all of you with sufficient religious education that you will BURN IN HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY! (Just kidding! Except for Bondo!)

On On

Candy Caner