Run #1537, Aug 24, 2015
Hare: Krisco Kid
Location: The Narrows Rd, Bristol, RI
Present: Dr. WHO, Glutenless Maximus, WIPOS, Rusty, Ass Quack, Sleepin' Booty, Pussy, Crabby Shag, OOzing, POP, POP's Friend's Name?, and Basket
It was a dark and stormy night. I just settled down with a beer to go over the electric bill, when the door bell rang. It never rings this time of night, so I knew it would be something terrible. The stock market dropped a thousand points, somebody ran into a news cast and shot the anchor and camera man, 240 people drowned while trying to escape to freedom from an Syria, a bomb went off in Turkey and it was the end of tourism for the Turks, ISIS blew up a 2000 year old temple. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew I wasn't going to like it.
As I opened the door, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Peering out into the darkness I saw nothing. It was eerily quiet and still, as I looked out wondering WHO or what ran my bell. It took a few minutes before my eyes could adjust to the twilight, and then I saw a shadow. It was a small shadow, about 3 inches high, just at my feet. A small white rabbit was looking up at me and said, "Wake up you stupid shit. It's Monday and you need to drive all the way to Bristol for Krisco's Hash. I hate taking naps in the middle of the day.
I arrived at the parking lot, at the end of The Narrows Rd early, just the same. There were a few other people there, but no Hashers. A pleasant looking Asian woman sat with her back to me, on the rocks, along the shore line. Two other women were sitting on a blanket, by a small inlet to my left, and a car load of young men were parked on the opposite side of the lot. They appeared to be up to no good, but they were quietly going about their business. Suddenly a black Prius pulled into the lot. I recognized it at once to be WHO. He started getting into his running gear and the young men seemed to be very interested. It was as if WHO has done this before with these young men, but that's for another Hash Trash. Next to arrive was Retar'd. I was surprised to see him so far south, but having to miss every other week, with taking his wife to choir practice, and such, must be painful. I guessed he missed us. He pulled out his walking stick and walked over to me. "Are you going to swim with your stick," I asked. "What do you mean," he replied. "Didn't you read the Hare's warning about wearing a life jacket if you've got one," I replied. "I've got a bunch of noodles if you need one, and by the looks of it, I'd guess we're swimming across this inlet." "Not me," he said, and that was the end of that.
Soon the rest of the pack started to arrive, and eventually the Hare made his way out of the woods behind us. He offered us a beer and said he'd lost his phone. It was in his backpack, but he didn't zip the pocket and it must have fallen out, as he bent down going under the branches. He offered a free beer at the Beer Stop for anyone WHO found it.
He started giving his chalk talk as we finished our beers. He said he'd gotten lost, had to cut the trail short and that he was creative in his marks. Possibly making a new mark never seen at a RIH3 Hash before. There would be a BN and a BH, and that the marks were in flour and chalk. Now, we don't especially like people messing with our marking. Sparks 'splained it very clearly. 3 marks and you're on, arrows (with one point), X's for false trails and circles for checks. It's simple and saves on flour. Why Hashers have to do a two pointed arrow, or three lines or a YBF on a falsie, or (and this one burns my butt) a BN when a simple B is understood by all. It just confuses us to no end. AnyWHO, we put the empties in his car and started out on trail.
The pack started out on the narrow trail to the first check. It was a false straight and right, but Crabby called us on the left trail. This went on for some time. With Pussy or Booty or Crabby leading the men into the shit. It's like life sometimes. You make choices and later find out this wonderful, beautiful woman WHO was the answer to your prayers, suddenly turns into Attila the Hun...every month. Hello? What were you thinking? Don't you remember going out for a beer with the boys on Friday night. Getting in early the next morning and feeling like shit, but knowing it was all worth it. Well gents, that's all behind you now....but I digress.
Eventually, the trail took a turn for the worse and we were bushwhacking through thick brush and bull briers. I went off to the left and found myself in a field that was pleasantly low cut and fragrant. The pack was off in the woods, but they were on trail and I was not. I made my way back to them, but it was not easy. The thorns was as high as my eyeballs and all but ripped them out along with my balls and pieces of flesh. Joining the pack, we were meandering along a small, almost dry, stream. The rocks were slick with moss and many of us found our asses in the mud. There was one rock with a B and another with an N, so were picked up the pace. It was few hundred yards later, as the Narrows River could be seen through the trees, when the Hare called us back. The FRB's had reached the shore already and we now made our way back. There it was, a rock with a B on it. OOzing found the BN and turning over the N and discovered him to be at the Beer Stop. The bag was opened and we started to enjoy the fruits of our labor.
The singing was a bit lacking, but the beer was adequate and even Rusty enjoyed the Fritos. "It's not orange food if you don't wind up with yellow fingers after you've eaten it," he said with his mouth full of yellow food. It sounded more like, "Itch ot ooorance fddd" etc but I got the jist of it. We did sing a couple songs. Two in memory of Ian Cumming: Junior Birdman and Lil Was A Gal. With the beer finished and OOzing and the Hare finished picking up the trash the lined the area we were standing, we retraced our tracks back to the Narrows.
The trail crossed over the small inlet, but most of us managed to work our way left, staying dry, and out to a line securing a boat by a long pier. I don't know WHO saw it first, but there it was in plain sight. Written in chalk, on a small rock the size of a softball, a BH. Explaining that it was a 'Beer Here' mark. Now, what the fuck! (read previous note about Sparks trying to make it simple). Krisco jumped into the water and the rest of us popped open a well deserved beer. We had traveled almost a mile and a half, and we could see the end was near. Krisco came back and complained that we have been lapse in not offering a block of ice for the Hare, so he offered to sit in the bucket of beer and ice. The discussion lingered a bit more than usual, but eventually he got his ass deservedly chilled. He finished his beer and sang the Masturbation song. It wasn't very long. Next came Backsliders. Crabby took it like a man, and sang a song that escapes me now. Next was Hashit, as there were no virgins or visitors. The discussion was very sound and exact, with good explanations why OOzing should get it, as it was he WHO turned over the N rock. It was offered to POP and then POP's friend for very good reasons, but the Hash does not need a reason, good or otherwise...it fell to me. And that's the reason why sir, I do write this missive.
We adjourned to Aidans for food and beer.
That's all I got.