Run # 637 August 10, 1998
Hare: Cheap
Liquor
Basket Boom Boom
Write-up by:
Cheap Liquor
The Start:
Hanson's Landing, Naragansett
It started in typical Sagittarius style…15 minutes late, but with class.
As
the crowd stumbled out of Hanson’s landing and gathered together on
the last
bit of dry land the group would see for tree hours, a small swamp monster
trudged across the road to join us…but no wait…that looks like BasketBB.
Wetter than any woman he's ever been with, he mumbled something about
losing
Tinker virginity in Salt Pond with the canoe. And so marks the
beginning of
the wettest run of the year, even for RIH3. Cheap Licker picked
up tree
virgins in the parking lot…they were enamored by her voluptuous body…that’s
her story …and after some not so formal intros and songs, we were on
our
way. With miraculous ingenuity, they made it through the first
circle jerk
without getting lost…and on the first attempt! It took the hares
three
times while presetting…oops. So there we were on the road again.
Fantastic, incredible, mother f*@%ing ostriches on the true trail,
oh it was
a sight for sore eyes as we stormed through a quiet neighborhood, riling
up
all the dogs and inbreeds of Narragansett. As the road ended
there were
faces of concern as we headed south along the shoreline…yes, that would
be
the last pavement they saw until dark. A half mile later through
tall,
salty reeds, muck, slime and water, we came upon trailer park heaven…or
what
some may refer to as a campsight. Thousands of crappy little
trailers for
as far as the eye could see. Fortunately, Free Willy restrained
from
uprooting any plants along the way…Oh, shit, where are the virgins??
The
campers looked on with fear and hid as a dozen and a half slimy, stinkin’
hashers trudged their way along the trail…children were swept up, doors
were
locked…as the innocent heard the almighty horn announcing the arrival
of
RIH3. The Voluptuous Hare patiently waited for the virgins to
end their
masterbating in the tall reeds and they finally emerged….explaining
that
they had to go around the tree foot crossing so as not to get wet.
Another
half mile or so we were done shocking the campers and made our way
a bit
west…yes, back to the lovely swamp…over the woods and through the briars
and
barbed wire, the wankers were whining, oh yes. Oozing was anxiously
clutching his blow up doll…I mean floaty thingy…in fear of drowning,
but he
was safe because CL was nowhere in sight. The wankers avoided
a bit of the
water and made their way through the stinging, salty reeds, being the
masochists they are. And then there was BEER, and then we fucked,
and Free
Willy uprooted some reeds…it lasted for hours it seemed as we again
waited
for the virgins….only one came. Through the weeds he appeared,
salivating
for the beer that was just across the inlet…was he a swimmer or a
whacker…turns out he's a virgin whacker. Halfway through his
first beer, he
claimed he hadn't had enough, so on we trudged. Again the wankers
attempted
a trail on dry land but were warned they would be lost forever, so
Granola
took the lead into the muck and slime of the low tide of Salt Pond.
Mmmmmm,
yes!! The others followed, except for Oozing who attempted suicide
as he
went off “trail” into the deeper parts of the pond. Doo toilet
seats
float??? Persuaded to follow the pack he survived the crossing
onto the
deserted island where we created another beer stop. BushYaaker,
being the
Newport Hasher that he is, abused his Scotch Ale by getting salt water
in
it…and then had the balls to pick up another beer. Busting through
a couple
of circle jerks, Bondo led the pack, ignoring the tips from the hares
to go
straight, not right. After 20 “fucks” he made it back to flour
and we were
heading over to Harbor Island. But not to CL’s house…no.
Lets make them
swim to a reef in the middle of the Harbor for a down-down…at near
high
tide. The fools followed trail along more swampy waters to a
point about 25
yards from dry land…”so as not to embarrass the neighbors” the short
hare
said. So there we were. Tinker rejoined us after breaking
into CL’s house
for the beer…stupid bimbo locked up the down down tank in her house.
There
was singing and rejoicing and no, Oozing did not drown. So yes
folks, if
you did not cum, you missed a fourteen fuck run in the swamps of
Narragansett, eloquently described by none other than Bondo.
Of course the
on-on was fantastic, incredible…catered by CL Enterprises. The
virgins
were recovered in the parking lot and rejoined the crew at the
on-on-on…claiming they would cum again…that’s their story.
Cheap Licker