Run #1541, 10/12/2015
Basket's Amish's Bryant's Indigenous Peoples' Hash
Time: 6.30 pm
Location: Parentes Restaurant, Douglas Pike, Smithfield
Weather: Much warmer than it will be soon
Hare: Basket imitating Amish Ithead
Present: Dr WHO, Rusty, Oozing, Assquack, Sleeping Booty and Her Seven Toys, ShitTard, Sister Sauna Snatch, She-MaleMan, Eticlitte, Pussy Galore, Glutenless Maximus, Next Week, Just Mike, Just J, hare- Basket. Visitors- Shit Nav & Works for Tips.
It was a typical indigenous persons' summer, as we are wont to call the uncomfortably warm crepuscular periods so often followed by a precipitous drop in temperature. (Which never happened, btw, and it stayed fucking hot for the whole r*n and afterwards.)
The clan duly gathered in Parente's parking lot, with the cars lined up cleverly to separate hashers from muggles. (Until PG showed up to block everyone in.)
We had the rare pleasure, while pre-lubing, to see Little Rusty and her friend, and discuss the various qualities of different car repair establishments, both On The Island and Off Island. WHO knew this topic could be so interesting? Not I.
When asked if they were coming hashing, those two worthies wisely declined. But did they have to be so matter-of-fact about it? It could have damaged the self-esteem of those of us WHO don't know any better. Luckily, we were, and are, for the most part oblivious.
Presently the kennel was gathered and we noted the addition of some guests, Works for Tits from Eugene and the mysterious VagNav from everywhere and nowhere but mostly Spain by way of VA and a seekrit RI posting on a base by the water which nobody can possibly guess so don't bother.
Either they are neurotics of the worst kind or someone tipped them off that RIH3 doesn't run on HST, because they were ready to go at 6:30.
Just J showed up for what he thought was his first hash. (Certainly it is the first one he'll remember. ) So I guess we can't fault him for not remembering to bring a cranium lamp - it's a typical virgin move. And he wouldn't take a jack-light, so Basket lent him a light (like the goldfish, for whom the castle's a surprise every time) (tip o'the hat to Ani DiFranco - yes, old, but with staying power so fyyff).
We all thought OB was on her way but she apparently had something or someone better to do.
After explaining the marks in International Sign Language for the benefit of ShitTard, WHO really didn't seem to be interested, we were off. And immediately proceeded to walk slowly into the "woods," meaning the patchy psycho killing-ground full of pricks and discarded Mel-Fry jugs behind the pub.
After this auspicious beginning, we found ourselves on pavement.
O'Boner was the autohasher of the group, not in the sense of using her car, but in her practice of self-stimulation in the dark.
After a lot of running around on ball fields and *roads* behind Bryant, we came upon Beer Near, x and we were ready for it, boy howdy! However, we still had to locate the BC.
We were in some kind of glade that apparently serves the local alcoholic students well - in each direction we searched, we came up with piles of beer cans (these people have horrible taste in beer) and plastic bottles of St. Vitus vodka and other mind-erasing equipment.
Beer was finally located and quite a lengthy singing session ensued. The visitors were impressed, or at least surprised by the size of our "repertoire" - I've seen that expression before.
When the keg beer and choice orange food were depleted, we lit off for circle, only to find that the out-trail was kind of long, considering the entire run loop was essentially on campus -- and it's a small campus.
We did come across an interesting scene, a complete warmup suit including running shoes, a lumpy garbage bag that nobody wanted to open, and a running car with no inhabitants. Look for that one on CSI Smithfield in the upcoming season, folks.
On teaching circle, we "honored" the visitors, re-virginated the two-timer and rightly designated Rusty (Gay Lick Gingerbottom) as Hashit for his whinging and other carefully thought-out reasons. And then, in a moment of criminal betrayal, Booty threw Glutenless Maximus under the bus. And so it is that you are reading this drivel. Depating from his tradition of not being able to think of a song and falling back on My Oneskin, Glutenless came up with Nancy Brown.
On-after would have been at Ocean Mist, but it was closed again (when will those wankers learn?!) so Parente's it was. O'Boner left early with suspicious symptoms of sudden nausea and fainting. If this were a sitcom (isn't it?) we'd all know what *that* meant. Just J remained coherent, for a change, Booty drank something that smelled like a urinal puck and we "entertained" the "crowd" (annoyed the Texas Hold 'em players) with a rousing Sexual Life of the Camel.
And so it was.