Woonsocket Street Hash
Run# 1356
Date: March 26, 2012
Hare: Bondo Jovi
Location: Woonsocket Hash Headquarters
Weather: Cold but clear
Present: Crabby Shag, Ass Quack, DOB, WIPOS, Shemale, Crotch Tiger, Pussy Galore, Hairy, Bondo, WHO, Basket, Async, Dingleberry, Mona Laya, others Hashit: WHO

The Run:
Starting from, where else: Bondo's Garage. Ending up, where else: Bondo's Garage. Does anything else really need to be said? OK, there was a beer check not at Bondo's homestead. So I guess something needs to be put down in words so that future historians cannot callously describe Bondo as the raving ratbag that he, in reality, is.

The run was marked. That might be a first. But don't get excited now. It wasn't well marked. I believe that there were two checks seen on trail. I could be wrong. Regardless, the opportunities for short-cutting were limited.  Starting from Bondo's garage, trail turned left and proceeded into Cold Spring Park. Something new? Nope. Turning north, the pack was together as trail led up to the Hanora Spinning Textile Division and crossed the river on the Singleton St. Bridge. WHO could get lost here?

Turning right, and north again, the trail was straight, boring, and clearly going on to one plce: the Blackstone Gorge. But this was a long ways away. Could Bondo really be that energetic? Ah, but the marks were on the right side of the road. Almost as if they had been placed by someone in a car. Or a bike. Of course, the pack spread out at this point, as the distances grew longer, and the absence of falsies became obvious. And the pavement, O the pavement. Like shards of glass, needles, knives and scimitars stabbing into the shins of the hashers. And, worst of all, no shiggy to soothe the tortured and aching limbs.

The pack, now separated by about a mile, crossed the river again (on a hard macadam bridge) into Blackstone MA, and turned left towards the gorge. Yada Yada Yada. The woods were finally entered one block before the parking lot for the Gorge. Trail now, for one brief shining moment, became tolerable.  There was some garbage, some (potential) shiggy, and softer terrain. The Beer Check was on an outcrop overlooking the falls, and most joined in thankful song as the plentiful Bondo-brew was passed around. But Basket and Ass-Quack had to climb down to the river. Possibly my greatest regret in life, my most humiliating failure, my greatest shame is: I could not produce enough urine to piss on them from above. No one else could either. This is what happens when you run on pavement.

Trail out led to the parking lot, and back onto pavement. My God, what was he thinking! Starting back, the hare came by, and, as his car was empty, I took advantage and grabbed a lift. Hey! I have a heart condition, you know! It got me hashit; they had to listen to "Poisoning Pigeons". Ha, Ha! The circle was otherwise uneventful, yet annoying. and we ate dynamites, and macaroni in the perenially unfinished first floor of Bondo's house. Another Monday wasted.