Run: #1576 The Horseshit Hash
Hare: Crotch Tiger and Pussy Galore
Location: A Big Rock Surrounded by Horseshit at Goddard Park, Warwick, RI
Weather: Perfect unless you really like rain, snow and cold weather
The Pack: WHO, OOzing, Fecal Veneer, O'Bone'R, Rusty, Misses Pussy, Just Pat, Sleeping Booty, WIPOS, Wee Balls, others???
Back Sliders: Butt Plug, Anal Millipede
Visitors: Queen Ebola III (Fort Worth, TX), Just Somebody(?) from South Africa H3(?)
Virgins and 2X'ers: Just Tom, Just Vickie, Just Millie
Hashit: Basket

It could have been anywhere, but there we were standing by the big rock at Goddard Park, as the cars started to line the circular roadway, near the horse stables. The smell of fresh horse manure drifted lightly on the breeze, mixed, ever so lovely, with the odor of low tide in Greenwich Cove. There were a few beers popped and enjoyed before the start as we waited for, yet, more cars to arrive. The BIG rock called me to try it, but my slick shiggy shoes were no match for the grasses and poison ivy growing in the cracks. I grabbed my handy climbing shoes and made quick work of the 5.8, okay it was 5.8 in shiggy shoes, but maybe a 6 in sticky rubber. It was 6:28 and introductions were made and a Father Abraham preceded chalk talk. The virgins were explained the marking and we were off. Trail started out crossing the road and into the woods. The pack, eager for any sign of trail, ran headlong into the unknown. I decided the trail had to go toward the bay and started out on my own, first along the road and then making a right uphill overlooking the water. WHO and WIPOS had similar ideas and we found flour in the mark of a false trail X. Continuing on, we found a second X and then flour on trees heading in our direction. I don't know how the trail got to this point, but soon we saw an unknown Hasher catching up with us. He said he'd Hashed 10 years hence in South Africa, but was never named. Soon more Hashers were out on the street, to our right and left, looking for trail, with more cuming from behind. WHO prefers it that, as we all know, but I degress.
As the pack ran past me, hobbling along now with a throbbing pain in my knee, I decided to try another short cut and started out right at the next check, while the hashing hoard went left along a trail above the water. The pack was well off in the distance, when I saw the tell tale sign the my intuition was correct. An X was right there in front of me and moving a little farther another X marked the false trail cuming from the opposite direction. Soon I was FRB again and very proud of my intelligence over the dumb fucks following trail. Butt Plug was first to catch me at yet another check. I suggested he go back whence I came because, I told him, there were some marks that way. I didn't tell him it was a falsie He didn't bite and found flour going left. I continued straight. He found flour and called on the pack; I found none, but persisted onward.

I eventually hit flour again near the carousel and, being FRB once again, the pack was hot on my heals. I could not believe how great a Hasher I am. It seems that I could not make a mistake. The pack followed my lead as I made my way out to the shoreline. Again, not being on flour, I ran along to the beach and went west toward Sally Rock. A number of boats were racing around a buoy, as a boat sounded a horn that was remarkably like my horn. I stopped to watch them change sails and head off across the bay towards Greenwich. The calls from the pack became quiet as I continued onward, until finally deciding I may be going off in a wrong direction and could miss the beer stop if I didn't turn around. Back near the parking lot, I ran into OOzing and O'Bone'R and pointed out the direction I last saw the pack. We three eventually found flour leading off the main trail and along a lovely path that led across a small stream crossing, over logs laid out for out assistance. The path continued to a falsie at a very stagnant pond, then meandered toward Sally Rock. I soon heard the sounds of the pack enjoying beer on the shore. My instincts had been correct; my judgment wrong. If I had persisted along the shore, I would have been first at the Beer Stop long ago. I turned around less that 300 yards from the B.

The pack was well into the bag of beer, but a Lagunitas Little Sumthin' Sumthin' was found in the bottom with my name on it and was quickly opened. Pussy Arrived with a couple bags of munchies and the DFL's O'B and OOzie. O'Bone'R ran down the steep sandy bank and grabbed a beer. OOzing finally popped out of the woods in full black face. WHO and I started singing Mammy in Al Jolson fashion, but OOzing said it was something that should have gone up his nose. Still the racist bastard had no immediate remorse for his antics. Fecal and Booty where swinging on a fallen tree hanging precariously over the water. Just Tom was tossing sticks into the water for Just Millie to fetch. A couple folks were standing in the water as it lapped against the rock shore. We started a few songs, as the visitors admired our repertoire and WHO stood back silently, as if thinking why he had to move to Beverly, MA and leave this wonderful band of misfits. More singing and beer swigging continued until the bag was empty, then calls to move off were heard from the impatient ones.

We followed the shoreline, running (strolling) past my (still warm) footprints on the sand, from whence I had been so, not very, long ago. Just Molly was running in front of us and stopped to sniff a group of tree gay guys smoking pot, when one jumped up and grabbed a small tree to trow into the water. JM swam out, pick it up in her mouth and proceeded to run with it down the beach. She then entertained us with her gymnastics, first jumping up on a post as we neared the carousel parking lot, and then on the shoulders of Just Tom. The pack continued strolling along previously traveled trail, back towards the cars, stopping just short and circling up near the construction area of the boat ramp.

The cooler was opened and a goodly assortment of beverages were found along with a bag of 30 chocolate chip & raisin, macaroons prepared by our lovely Crotch Tiger. The circle was formed and all but WHO started giving their remarks. A most wonderful sunset was across the bay and most made positive comments about the wondrous sight. Only Rusty complained about it.
Maybe he doesn't get sunset's like this in Cork and he has to travel to the sheep covered hills along the Ring of Kerry for such a splendid view, but that does not forgive him for his unappreciative attitude.

More photos can be found here.

WHO finally made it back in just as the last of the comments were made. A very positive rating of 6.9 was agreed upon. The Hares finished their down-down with a "when I was a little girl". Next Visitors, Virgins and Backsliders found themselves explaining their lack of discretion and joining the RIH3. The setting sun's rays went from a holy cross to a true tail arrow. Still Rusty complained, so we decided to pick the Hashit. Certainly he was deserving and should have received it, but as often happens with the RIH3, the least deserving was anointed Hashit for the sin of short-cutting most of the Hash, but sadly, finding the beer just before the DFL's. I sang 'Cause I've only half a brain' after my DD. Discussing cuming events was next, and we found a few Hashers did not get their invitation to Harry K and Luxury Box's wedding. Plans to invade the event and make their way over to 7 Bridges Saturday after next were drawn out. It should make for an interesting event. WHO decided the best date for Chocorua would be August 13th according to his schedule, despite it being a conflict with Shemale Man's. We all let out a saddening groan that Shemale would not make it to WHO's event.

After our Swing Low, we drove over to Fat Belly's Pub, not far away. The parking lot was overflowing and there was not much room for the 14 of us, that continued to the OnOn. OOzing limped over to the sports bar nearby to see if they had seating, but Misses Pussy, using his phone instead of his feet, found the other Fat Belly's Pub in EG was a mile away and had room for the Hash. More beer, food and songs were enjoyed. O'Bone'R had a problem with her boobs and needed to straighten them out. She wore a very formidable undergarment that almost popped open as she adjusted the clasp and zipper. Unfortunately, they were securely positioned and propped up. OOzing complained that the waitress ignored him and we should not tip her. WHO remained mostly quiet, while the rest of us enjoyed the moment right up until it was time to go. We were all sad to see the wonderful event end, except Rusty, WHO still complained about the sunset. That's all I remember and I rhink I may have missed a few folks that I'll add as my memory returns.