The Edgar Allen Poe Hash
 
Run # 661 January 18, 1809

Hare:   Async

Write-up by:  Basket Boom Boom

The Start:   Cady's Tavern - Glocester
 
The Edgar Allen Poe Hash (1809-1849). Jan 19, 1809.
Born in Boston. January 18, 1999
Rhode Island Hash celebrates EAPoe
Hare:  EAPoe played by Async
Players/Hounds: Raven - Jake, Lenore - Bondo Jovi, Tell Tale Heart - WIPOS,
Annabel Lee - Cheap Licker, the Pit - the Slut, the Pendulum - Basket Boom
Boom, Ligeia - Evil Bitch RIPTA, Worm - Worm

It was a dark and stormy night.  Fog covered the highway as I drove along
Rte 44 toward the old stagecoach stop at Cady's Tavern.  The fallen snow from
the weekend's storm had been thawed and refrozen into a slick river of shiggy as
rain fell heavily upon the strange orange marks upon the trail, now
disappearing in the night. Fuck me say's the hare…fuck you say's I.

The hounds arrive slowly at first, even cautiously, in concern of life and
limb.  Surely, the Hare had called off the insanity of hashing in such a
night.  "Never," said the Hare, " and don't call me Shirley."  First to
arrive was Bondo.  "A saintly soul floats on the Stygian river;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?- weep now or nevermore!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!"
Basket then arrived next followed by the Slut.  Wondering why we would be
here on such a night, rain falling now in buckets, what were we thinking?  "In
vain I struggled to realize -- to regain it. Long suffering had nearly
annihilated all my ordinary powers of mind. I was an imbecile -- an idiot."
We drank a beer, a Sam Smith Imperial Stout, but even it's strength gave
little resolve to the night ahead.  WIPOS pulled in with Cheap Licker just
behind.

Bondo's horn blew the hound to hash.  "And now have I not told you that
what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? Now, I say,
there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when
enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's
heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier
into courage.   But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the
lantern motionless."

The flour started across 44 in George Washington Park.  Dodging cars,
crossing the road was dangerous enough, but the trail called us on ice and coldness
there.  Flashlights illuminated the danger here.  First to fall was Cheap
Licker. "It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a
maiden there fell whom you may know by the name of Abigail Licker."  Bondo
joined the fallen as feet above head did fall.  "Ah, broken is the golden
bowl! The spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll!"  The hare must of
thought his deed was done  "He shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged
him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to
find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled
sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the
wall."

Much flour was lost in river flow, but enough was left to cover trail
towards beer and beyond.  We each thought of what cost this hare must pay for such
a devious trail. "There was an interval of utter insensibility; it was brief;
for, upon again lapsing into life, there had been no perceptible descent in
the pendulum. But it might have been long -- for I knew there were demons
who took note of my swoon, and who could have arrested the vibration at
pleasure."

Finally, the beer stop amid trees standing tall there a small shack.  A
slight protection against the storm, but enough to enjoy the Sam Adams Cream
Stout. "Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more
narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to
be that of an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great.
Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled
web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation"

I opened the bottle without hesitation.  "Down -- steadily down it crept. I
took a frenzied pleasure in contrasting its downward with its lateral
velocity. To the right -- to the left -- far and wide -- with the shriek
and the plunge of a damned spirit! to my heart, with the stealthy pace of the
tiger. I alternately laughed and howled, as the one or the other idea grew
predominant.    Down -- certainly, relentlessly down! It vibrated within three inches
of my bosom! I struggled violently -- furiously -- to free my left arm.
This was free only from the elbow to the hand. I could reach the latter, from
the platter beside me, to my mouth, with great effort, but no farther. Could I
have broken the fastenings above the elbow, I would have seized and
attempted to arrest the pendulum. I might as well have attempted to arrest an
avalanche!    Down -- still unceasingly -- still inevitably down! I gasped and
struggled at each vibration. I shrunk convulsively at its every sweep. My eyes
followed its outward or upward whirls with the eagerness of the most unmeaning
despair; they closed themselves spasmodically at the descent, although death would
have been a relief, oh, how unspeakable!"  Thank god for beer and hash.

Flashing of lightning shone bright the night air, as rain danced upon the
wooden wall of shelter there.  An occasional thunder burst interrupted our
singing for but a minute, and then a Bondo fart prompted us to again join
trail. "   'O God!' half shrieked Ligeia, leaping to her feet an extending
her arms aloft with a spasmodic movement, as I made an end of these lines -- 'O
God! O Divine Father! shall these things be undeviatingly so? -- shall this
Conqueror be not once conquered? Are we not part and parcel in Thee? Who --
who knoweth the mysteries of the will with its vigor? Man doth not yield
him to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of
his feeble will.'    And now, as if exhausted with emotion, she suffered her white arms to
fall, and returned solemnly to her bed of death. And as she breathed her last
sighs, there came mingled with them a low murmur from her lips."  "Let's get the fuck
out of here," said Cheap.

The end was near when the final beer stop was found behind trees, not far
from Rte 44.  The hare was called into the circle, "The old man's hour had come!
With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He
shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and
pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far
done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound."  The
circle was just as quickly finished as rain, falling relentlessly, drove us
on to the Inn of Cady's.  In the warmth of the friendly abode, was RIPTA.  She
claimed she tried, in vain, to find trail, and even showed us wet stocking
as proof.  "Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly --  Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things that shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo!
That motley drama! -- oh, be sure it shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased forever more, by a crowd that seize it not, "

Beer was ordered and food to warm the bellies and fill the sole. Bondo
presented the newly improved RIH3 Hashit, and it was quickly given to Cheap
as the most deserving and best fitting for such an award. "And now, as if
exhausted with emotion, she suffered her white arms to fall, and returned
solemnly to her bed of death. And as she breathed her last sighs, there
came mingled with them a low murmur from her lips."  "Fuck me", fuck you,
indeed, the Hashit is yours to enjoy.   The conversation that followed was strange
indeed, and much was thought and spoken until we parted for the night.

"Out -- out are the lights -- out all!
And over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm."

We drove home, the storm now ended and none thought more of that fuck, the
WORM nor PW nor Bird…nevermore till Betty Ford.  OnOn  Basket - with
apologies
to Edgar - Boom Boom
 
 

 

Return to RIH3 Lies........