The Disturbing the Peace Hash
Run # 1482
Date Aug 25, 2014
Hare: Next Week
Location: John Chaffee Nature Preserve
Weather: Warm enough for a naked swim
The Pack: OOzing, WHO, Basket, Dog Meat, Just Naomi, Amish, Heath, Bondo, Buddy, Rusty, Crotchy, Pussy Galore, WIPOS, Sleeping Booty, Just Alex, Smart Aleck, Just Tom (WHO doesn't like being called Bondo's Bitch)
Visitors: DUI Done Right from BostonH3/SOH3/BorderJumpersH3, and a bare-foot running Public Enema (RGH3)
Virgins: Warwick from SoAfrica
WHO and Just Tom were first to arrive in the busy parking lot for the John Chaffee Nature Preserve. There were so many civilians and dogs, that I felt our small presence would not make a difference to the peace and tranquility of this quiet slice of Rhode Island. Cars were pulling in, unloading adults and dogs at such a high pitch however, that when Bondo arrived, Buddy could have been involved in a serious accident. If it weren't for him having to take a shit first, distracting him until we could get a leash on him. He squatted nearby me and I was just about to grab his collar when a squishing sound was heard, and a gallon of swamp water squirted out of his ass. He would continue to mark the trail in like manner for the remainder of the Hash. A very foreboding comment to what this trail would be like.
The number of Hashers may not have outnumbered the civilians and dogs, but the horns and whistles, "OnOn"s and "RU?"s more than livened up the park at the chigrin of the visitors. There was one couple in particular WHO gave us a stern look as they walked past us with their dog. Maybe it was our dogs jumping around in an unkempt, uncontrolled manner, or maybe it was the way we were dressed, or maybe it was the cups of Bondo Beer we were drinking. Whatever it was, we'd be bumping into him again on the beach and he had that same look as we ran up and down looking for the illusive flour. But more on him later. The highlight of the night was when Pussy Galore arrived. This was the first time in over 10 months that she was here without a child of some sort with / in her. Amish was last to arrive just as we took off
The Hash started out north easterly on the Rome Point Trail towards the West Passage of Narragansett Bay. At the first check, true trail was found by Basket as he led the pack through the next 4 checks to the wiskey check. A "W" was found at the base of a large boulder, but despite my best efforts to find the bottle, Warwick found it in a crack. I guess he has a better way of pulling things out of cracks than Basket, who has a marked propensity to soil his undies and should take a class on ass-wiping. Most of us enjoyed the Dewar's and then continued on trail. At this point my luck ran out. We came out to the power line and I crossed it heading southerly until I passed the second and last mark at the private property sign. Running back to the check, there was a pack of Check Sitters standing around the check waiting for someone to call OnOn, when off in the distance Rusty's call was heard and the lazy ass fucks followed his voice.
True trail came out on the beach where the last mark was seen on a large rock. It turned out to be an arrow, but not understanding the intentions of the Hare, the pack ran up and down, up and down the beach ad nausium. And to have Public Enema running in his bare feet. with his Oh!, Ouch! Complaining because he didn't have time to put on his shore was sad....that's all I've got to say 'bout that. Then, this is where we met the couple with the dog and him with the stern look. Someone heard Bondo's horn off behind us, so we ran up the beach to a trail heading westerly, arriving at The Narrows and found no trail. Here we ran up and down again looking for flour when off in the distance was heard the calls for OnOn. Beer was found on the point and we enjoyed beer and snacks, while the Hare explained the last mark on the beach. Songs were sung, beer was enjoyed, Basket swam naked in the water and all's right with the world. When the beer was finished we each made our own way back to the cars. On the way, Sleeping Booty twisted her ankle and fell. She was apparently in pain, so Just Alex and I helped her until she could manage by herself. Dog Meat later told me she fell too, on the rocky beach, but had no knight in shining armor lend her a hand.
The Circle was held back at the Hare's farm around a fire. It took a while to get the flames up to Hash Standards, but with the help of a good blow job by Next Week and Public Enema, it was going pretty good by the time comments were made. Cold beers were enjoyed until all assembled. The Hare got his Down-down and was awarded a zero for effort, marks, quantity of beer, and pleasant weather and water temperature. The visitors got a DD as did Backsliders and Virgin. I got Hashit because this is the RIH3 and nobody gets what they deserve. Get used to it! We then made another sad attempt at naming Smart Aleck and Just Alex. It took some time, but the consensus was Smart Aleck is now and forever (until renamed) Pussy Ivy. It seems he got Poison Ivy from his cat and had to undergo cortisone treatment. Just Alex was named WHO Wants My Johnson. I don't know why this came about, but I'm sure WHO had little to do with it. Non-the-less, he's got it and we'll all have to live with the shame of it. There was no mention of someone losing something on trail, so I'm pretty sure that OOzing stole my horn but did not have the good sense, or courtesy, to bring it up for DD's. I hope it wasn't left at the BS. Food was available so religion was quickly made and we ate and drank the night away. Meanwhile, Rusty had found a note left on his windshield back at the park and it read, "Thanks for ruining what should have been a relaxing walk. We tried to leave the wacky outside noise behind and instead had to listen to your horns and whistles". I wonder what they would have written if they had been on the point and saw me running into the water naked? I'm sure it would have been more favorable.
That's all I got.