December 29th 2014, RIH3 Run # 1500
The Christmas / 1500th Hash
Burrillville Middle School
Temp: 25, cloudy but a little sun
Pack size: Could have been 69, but since some peeps didn't show we had 36.
Pack (in order of appearance on the piece of paper that I handed out), some buggers didn't write their name in so no alibi for those wanks.
WHO, Ozzie, Rusty, Swamp Whine, Just Keri, Just PI, Hairy, Just Chris, Klingon, Glutenless Maximus, Just Nancy, Assquack, Luxury Box, Fecal Veneer, Just Kiki, POP (passes on pussy), Next Week, Just Andrew, Crabby, Bondo, WIPOS, Amish
Boston/Northboro visitors: Numb Nuts (Friar), Retard, Spunk in the Trunk, Just Pat (Butler), Black Cock Down , Willy Wonka & the Backdoor Factory, Angry Crotch, Pussy Foot, Bloody.
Starting on the wrong side of route 102 (North) the pack was given instructions, there would be no beer stop, we must cross a highway, there would be no whiskey stop, it was an A to B and one would have to get your own arse back to your car later. With that about tree people left, and said "Fuck that we're off to Baskets house to cuddle Dogmeat and drink beer." A bag car was provided so that we could drop our presents and dry clothes in there for the Yankee Swap that was scheduled for later. Further instruction from Basket said that we would only be up to our knees in water so no need for panic.
We started out, only to face an angry AQ driving the yellow submarine into the parking lot. He was not happy to see so many wankers at a Monday run and decided to see if he could bowl some of them over, he missed and we continued along the hedge line at the school. A couple of checks were within a short distance of the cars and we were soon traversing route 102 to the sounds of honking horns and barking dogs. A check on the south side of 102 split the pack a bit, it was at this stage that LB realized that when a headlight is turned on it is supposed to provide light, she decided to follow someone else and was led down a false trail. Basket provided an emergency light pack and she was back on her horse again.
Some bushwhacking through the woods brought us to....yes, yes, say it....a powerline. Pretty easy to follow, that is until we ran out of flour, the pack was spread over a quarter mile which made for a nice picturesque view for the FRB's. It was at this point that Dr. WHO said it's time to head to where only he goes on Wednesday's, a shortcut it was but it involved pavement.
In the rear, we could hear Retard mutter something about no beer wench, no beer stop and right beside him was friar uttering shivers - it must be warm in Boston this time of the year as he showed up dressed for 69 degree weather. The pack was looking for a mark, an elusive check, a hint from the hare. Things were starting to fall apart, this should have been easy as it was a straight line North to South from A to B for this run. Back at Dogmeat's the FRB's arrived to find a bunch of shortcutting Fecal Veneers sitting around a big camp fire. More and more of the pack arrived, knocking over the bird house, repositioning it only to have it knocked down tree more times. Most gracious entry was by Amish, a simple 3ft drop turned into his worst nightmare, he slid, he fell, he made some noises and then bounced back to his feet and looked around as if nothing had really happened.
Comments on the run went smoothly due to 10 words or less being the order of the day, some didn't even use up their 10 and others didn't give a shite and just kept on talking.
The Visitors were questioned by Retard and what a show that was, first off he couldn't even think of a question until he heard someone in the circle ask "what time is it", he then turned to the visitors and said "what time is it" It really doesn't get any better than having Retard running a circle for a few minutes. Crotchy questioned the Virgins, and then it came time for Hashit. The time honored tradition of awarding one of the pack the honor of writing this crap and using up part of their 15 minutes of fame. There were few nominations, but this is a little known strategy, since once you open your mouth to nominate someone you usually fall fowl to one of the regulars making that backfire and suddenly you are wracking your brain for a song and hoping that Donkey has written down everything you need to know about the night. And, so it was to be, Rusty nominated Amish for his grand entrance to the yard, Amish nominated Rusty for ???, and Ozzie came from a blind corner with a second nomination for Rusty, they Aye's were loud and clear as was the rendition of Waaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy down...
Dogmeat made Salsa, Basket ordered 33 pizzas, presents were placed under the tree, and Santa perched himself atop a beam in the living room. He was soon back down to earth, and had many a bimbo gyrate on his lap. The honor of yankee swap #1 went to a Northboro lassie, she chose a horn and waited with baited breath (who's dat) for the final present to be opened so that she could get what she really wanted! We went through all 36 numbers, there was a consistent lack of desire to swap presents that is until Crabby opened up the one with the knitted hat. This made the rounds as did the Book of Limericks and the 800 page Hash Hymnal (finally rested with Next Week). A knock on the door revealed WIPOS, he had no pizza so we closed the door again. Dogmeat arrived a short time later and we gorged ourselves with Pizza and cake to the extent that we had to drink more beer.
Sound like fun??? You bet your arse it was fun, and so were the 1,499 runs before this. Thanks to Dogmeat, Basket and DM's mom for allowing us past the front and back door.
Christmas Hash Pics