Wolf Hill Half-a-Hash

Run #1123, October 8, 2007

Hare:  Fuwangi Boner

Co-Hare:  Swamp Whine

Location:  Chelos/Wolf Hill, Smithfield

Weather:  mid-50’s, partly cloudy

Present:  Dr W.H.O., Concrete Feet, Amish It Head, Basket Boom Boom, Bondo Jovi, Oozing Syphilitic Dicktaphone, WIPOS, Ben. Late: Just Miranda, Async. Visitors: Quick Drawers (Mount Vernon H3), Pubic Housing, Donkey Punch (Everyday is Wednesday H3), Comes on Vacation, Cainus Lickus (Happy Valley H3). Shine On (BSH3)?? Virgin: Just Rebecca.

The Run:

With d’erections posted on the website at least TWELVE hours before starting time, it was generally felt that the hare was trying to save on beer money as always by discouraging attendance. But the hare didn’t count on the strange phenomenon of the last month. Visitors and virgins have been coming out of the woodwork, and this night was to be no exception. Five (six) visitors and a virgin all made it to the overcrowded parking lot of Chelo’s in Apple Valley Plaza on Rt 44 in plenty of time for the start.

Basket arrived and began an exaggerated limp around the parking lot. (“I fell off a 5.8!” he boasted. More like a 6.9, probably.) He claimed that Shine On was not far behind, so the hare gave some hurried instructions, and took a head count. The attendance prompted some rapid calculations. He quickly dispatched his lovely co-hare to get more beer. (Next time, you go get it, you lazy wank, and leave your lovely co-hare to the pack! But I digress!) At 6:35, they were off east to the powerlines.

A falsie led north on the powerline trail, fooling WHO and Cainus briefly. Much too briefly, as it turned out. Basket, whining about his recent climbing injury, limped on true trail continuing east in the woods. A check had Oozing leading the pack straight. They continued on a long trail to the cemetery on the hill above the home Depot in Smithfield crossing. They were greeted by a “YBF”. Ha, ha!

WHO and Donkey Punch had turned left at the check, as WHO realized that the trail had to go back to the powerlines at some point. Late arrival Async had realized that from the start, and was already FRB on the powerlines. Basket likewise had turned back early and was hobbling up the powerline trail just behind. This is why one needs to find virgin territory with this crew.

Async was easily able to find the beer, and as the rest caught up, the supplies became dangerously low. But the hare arrived with a garbage bag of fresh stuff, and the BC was saved. The rhubarb of course rose. The Happy Valley Never-Ending version of “Scotland Depraved” (the lassie with the wee hairy assie…) was sung. Basket claimed Shine On was not far behind. Just Miranda arrived, having shown up even later than Async. Four weeks in a row! And she’s bought a headlight! Seems like the hash is going to have to come up with a REALLY offensive name to keep her away. Otherwise this could mean the end of the All-gay RIH3!

Bondo appeared. He had apparently lost Ben (Current Acting GM). All these years, he’s been trying to kill Ben, and could tonight be the night? Or would it just be another night in the Smithfield pound for the GM? (It is a lovely dog pound. One of Ben’s favorites. Clean newspaper, canned food and fresh reservoir water, and all.) Or did Ben get waylaid by the amorous Shine On? Bondo looked worried. The rest were relieved and hopeful.

With a few beers still left, they packed up and headed back, south on the west side of the powerlines. Trail marks became sparse. But they were being ignored anyways. Except by the gimpy Basket, who was trying to get some sympathy from the virgin, and ended up getting temporarily lost by trying to actually follow trail. At the start, the hash had told the virgin the one sacred law: Never Follow Basket! And there she was, stuck in the woods alone with the half-blind Quasimodo of the RIH3, stuck listening to his endless stories, stuck worrying whether he would take off his clothes at any moment. Live and learn!

The circle finally formed, just in time for Basket and the virgin to emerge during the long note of “The Monks”. Ratings: Trail was short, trail was dry. There was Bondo, Ben was lost. There was a virgin, there was Basket. There were five bimbos, there WERE FIVE BIMBOS! But there was limited briar shiggy, and not one foot of virgin territory. Total: +2.0!! (This is a result of all these young folk and their la-di-da New Math! The real total was clearly +0.69.) The virgin was questioned, and told a joke. The visitors were interrogated. Hashit went to Oozing, because Concrete Feet has been getting too attached to it (or it’s contents!)

After religion, Basket and Bondo went of to search for Ben, while the rest packed up and drove to Effin’s, and actually made it there despite the wildly divergent directions offered by the group. The pool was open but no one was tempted. Food and beer was served, and in some cases mixed together. As always. And as the Yankees season landed in the well-deserved garbage heap, the evening ended on a fine note.

On On

Epilogue, courtesy of Basket Boom Boom:

The Story of Ben
To the tune of the Beverly Hillbillies.

I’ll tell you a story ‘bout a dog named Ben
A livin’ with Bondo, he didn’t have a friend.
Said I’m goin’ Hashin’ in Smithfield ya see
So he jumped in the van and drove with Jovi.
Bondo that is Ahhhhchtu. (spit)

Well they arrive at the Hash just as it started out
So he ran past Bondo as he is kinda stout.
Up with the FRB’s scounting out the trail
Sniffin’ at the ground and at the girlies’ tail.
Hmmm. Sumthin’ smells good, not like Bondo Ahhhhchtu (spit).

As the leader of the pack he was feelin’ kinda good
Sniffin’ all around, and a gettin’ some wood
Till he found a dead possum an he started to a drool
Then just started in a eatin’, like a damn fool.
Just like Bondo, thinkin’ ‘bout himself. Ahhhhchtu (spit).

Well he ate so long, well the Hash was outa sight.
Staggered round the power lines in the dark of night.
Till the Smithfield Po lice grabbed him by the neck
And stuck him in a cage alone, what the heck.
Basket couldn’t find and Bondo didn’t try Ahhhhchtu (spit).

Well next day early, Just Big Shit gave a call
They said he was here but that wasn’t all
He had a case of shits from eatin’ all that food
Shat on the cage and floor, that was kinda rude.
Shit smell, like bad Bondo beer that is. Ahhhhchtu (spit).

So that is the story of Ben the dog last night.
Runnin’ off alone, givin’ us a fright.
But next Monday, you can bet your stinky ass,
He’ll be back with us again, sniffin’ at the Lass
Bimbos that is, not like Bondo, Ahhhhchtu (spit)..