So, Basket promised to do this write-up, in a more timely manner than your current scribe has managed. This is what happens when you try to rely on Basket. And, by the way, if any of you other wankers feel the creative urge to write one of these babies up, feel free to. Email it to me, and I’ll even load it for you. And Basket, this is only a short version. Feel free to embellish.

Starting from the parking lot on Pound Hill, just off 146 on an unseemly warm Sunday at 2 PM, it looked like it was going to be a more typical RIH3 outing. By that I mean no bimbos! But at least Bondo was absent. Trail led from the back parking lot down a snow/mud embankment, into some shiggy. The hare was live-setting. There must have been a gay soccer match on, somewhere in the world, that morning.

Trail bushwhacked its way towards 146. The “Halloween” trail was reached, and the marks disappeared. The lead pack of CEP, Basket and Rusty finally found true trail, heading back west to Industrial Drive. They also apparently found that the hare had been setting off alarms at a commercial building across the way. The police had discovered him. Unfortunately, they did not shoot him on sight. But there was no Beer Check!

Amish, Flobanger and WHO had been exploring the marshes east of the Homestead Gardens. Arriving finally on Industrial too late for these insights, they saw the lead pack heading southeast on the road. Like lambs to the slaughter, they followed. A true trail arrow led WHO and Flobanger into some shiggy, but it was a blatant lie. They finally joined the rest, who along with late-cummers Donkey Punch, Pubic Housing and Mr Rogers, were gathering behind the indoor sports complex. A sad and pathetic BC was held.

The circle, of course, took place at Basket’s. The run received ratings that were well deserved. So much for the Christmas spirit. Total:-6.9! Hashit went to Basket. A feast was held with many presents, and a fine movie viewing. Basket can fill you in on the details; I’ve got more important things to do.