The WHO’s Tom?! Hash<br/>
Run #1467, May 12, 2014<br/>
Hare: Basket Boom Boom<br/>
Location: boat launch off 165, Arcadia<br/>
Weather: 70’s, Clear<br/>
Present: New Week, Amish, Rusty, Dr. WHO, Bondo, Donkey Punch, Ass Quack, Smart Alec, Oozing, WIPOS, Crotch Tiger, Coal Miner’s Hole, virgins Just Sean and Just John, visitor Meat Freak (Austin H3), dogs Heath, Buddy and Bantu
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I’ll be honest, I like Arcadia.  There is water, green underbrush, and if you run in the woods at the right time of year a thrill of death as 6900 Rhode Island hunters converge waiting to pull the trigger on anything that sounds or looks like a deer.
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The pack met in the parking area across from the boat launch at the hare’s recommendation the circle would be “more private.”  I’m not exactly sure what that meant as 15 jackasses drinking beers and singing songs in the dark woods on one side of the river is just as private as 15 jackasses drinking beers and singing songs in the dark woods on the other, but like lemmings we followed his directions to our demise.  One positive of trail seen right off the bat was Coal Miner’s Hole – WHO knew she’d be back in town?  Actually, WHO did not know and probably had to scramble to hide all of his recently downloaded porn out of plain sight.  She’s a lady for crying out loud!
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Trail was marked out across the river back to the west side, some followed directions (jackasses!) and some headed south along the river banks looking for a shallower passage.  This is where the issue with my fancy dog comes into play.  Sure, he’s nice to look at and doesn’t knock your knees out with sticks but he’s not so good at river crossings.  So there I ended up, carrying the fancy dog through the water as I heard the pack’s calls travel farther away.  I felt like such a jackass.
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I think Basket got mentally confused at this point as I saw marks go both north and south (although we’d only been on trail for 69ft I had no doubt this was enough time for him to get lost – remember the rule of “never follow Basket?”).  From the distance I heard the ON-ONs signaling at least a few jackasses had gone north so I figured one larger pack of jackasses is better than two smaller packs of jackasses so I went that way too.  As I ran along the sounds got louder and eventually I heard the toot of Basket’s horn.  Also, I heard him blow his bugle.  Have you run behind or climbed with Basket?  Something in his guts just ain’t right and it seems like he forever farts his pants.  This, at his age, is nothing he should ever trust.
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Eventually I caught up to Basket, WHO and Bondo as trail veered back north-east towards the intersection of Mt Tom Rd and Blitzkrieg Trail.  A check was crossed and I saw the remainder of the pack take a left in and across the river into swampland along the banks.  I’d set trail back in that area a few years ago and knew what kind of mess those jackasses were getting in to – jackasses!  They continued on the south side of the river as the small group of us and dogs stayed to the north.  I actually saw Bondo trot down hill at one point.  Bondo!  Moving at a greater than walkers pace!  Unthinkable!
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Halfway to Woody Hill Brook we found beer check #1, a wonderful spot in the water to cool off.  A large container of Torpedo and bag of Doritos awaited us, and neither tasted like soap!  Humans were having a good time with beer and snacks.  Buddy had a good time running around with a stick taking out people’s kneecaps.  Bantu liked jumping in the water at Buddy.  And then they arrived – one lighter Donkey and one darker Donkey.  Well, not really, it was the RIH3’s Donkey and his darker complexioned visitor pal Meat Freak from Austin.  We don’t really know what they had been doing in the woods together for so long but we did know that Pubic Housing had been out of town for the weekend and there are only two things that come from Texas and Meat Freak had no horns…….so we’ll let you be the judge.
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After polishing off the beer the pack continued north over Mt Tom Rd. and eventually onto the Mt. Tom trail.  This is where Ass Quack showed off his big brains, and by big brains I mean he’s really just a big jackass.  He continued off up front, with Rusty and Amish not too far behind.  The rest followed suit and made their way up to, and past Mt. Tom.  That was a beer check missed.  The pack continued on Mt. Tom trail up and past other rocky outlooks.  Lots of other beer checks missed.  And then Rusty and Amish came to a sitting Ass Quack who only said he had “free solo’d” his way back on trail.  I thought he meant he shook one of waiting for us, but apparently it meant he had climbed up the rock face after getting lost in the low lands.  And, the reason he was sitting was because he was in pain from falling/scraping up his left arm and bicep pretty bad.  Jackass!  Everyone continued on and after passing a few civilians crossed 165 to beer check #2.
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This time there were jugs of Harpoon, Torpedo and a Little Somethin’ Somethin.  Speaking of a little something something this is the point of trail where Buddy and Bantu decided that bestiality is best.  Beer was flowing, orange food was passing around, dogs were humping, Ass Quack and Amish were rubbing orange hands on white husky, “pubic hairs” was sung to Coal Miner’s Hole and there was no WIPOS on trail – what could have been better?  Outta beer, outta here and most of the pack walked down to 165 and headed east towards the cars.  Light skin Donkey and Amish followed true trail and complained about work (not that Donkey is one to complain).  Ass Quack overachieved and headed west towards the CT border on 165 – jackass!  Again, what could have been better?
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That brings us to where we started.  The pack converged back in the parking area across from the boat launch at the hare’s recommendation the circle would be “more private.”  I’m not exactly sure what that meant as 15 jackasses drinking beers and singing songs in the dark woods on one side of the river is just as private as 15 jackasses drinking beers and singing songs in the dark woods on the other.  We sang songs, WIPOS showed up (booo), Dr. Jones questioned the virgins (yaaay!), I think we asked the visitor some questions.  All the while Ass Quack was in CT.  Jackass!  Trail was rated something, I’ll say -0 for grins and Amish got the hashit for talking with Crotch Tiger and not paying attention.  I didn’t know that circle was to be treated like boarding school, maybe next time someone can spank me instead (PG – did I hear you offer to help?  Might help you prepare for that upcoming motherhood gig).
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After driving up and down 165 multiple times Basket went out for one more loop.  A random car showed up and out came Ass Quack.  Apparently a nice random lady grilled him about being a good guy (unconfirmed if she questioned him being a jackass) and after playing all friendly was convinced to bring him back to his car.  I can only imagine this is the same way he got Crabby to marry him….
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-fin