Run # 775 March 19, 2001

Hare:   Basket Boom Boom

Scribe:  Dr Who Slasher

The Start:   Burrillville/Glendale

The Weather: Low 40's, Ridiculously Clear

Present:    Bondo, WIPOS, Oozing, Shine On, The Slasher Dr. WHO, Baxter, Ben, Jake, Virgin: Just Gary.

The Hard-core group of low-lifers gathered in the parking lot of the Burrillville Middle School, their numbers decimated by the U.S. Navy's insistence upon defending our shores from the communist menace. Basket was substitute hare, doing his part in the aftermath of Little Neck's near tragic wanking injury, and ignoring the fact that St. Patrick's day was well past, (as well as the fact that March 19 is St. Joseph's Day, and Adolph Eichmann's birthday) Basket decided to set trail with green shamrocks. Except he used blue. After a toast with Jameson's, the pack was off.

As the pack left the parking lot, a stranger approached and said "What are you guys doing?" "Taking a short run" was the reply. The stranger, Just Gary, noted that he had been planning to run around the school track, so he was invited to join us for our little sojourn in the woods. The poor sod obviously had as few brains as the rest of the crew, and joined in.

The trail began across the street, where it initially paralleled Rt 102 heading west, but soon struck off in a more southerly route. It was not long before large quantities of liquefying snow, mud, and open water were encountered. WIPOS, new stick in hand (along with other portions of his anatomy, when he thought no one was looking) led for much of the early going, mostly by the simple expedient of choosing the trail opposite to the one chosen by Dr. WHO, who again demonstrated that given a 50:50 chance, he could choose the wrong path 90% of the time. Shine On spent time explaining what was going on to our incidental virgin, who remarked: "You guys do this every week?!" Oozing kept his feet dry for a suspiciously long time, almost provoking a nomination for the Hashit. He realized this just in time, and went for a wade in the mud.

The trail became wetter and wetter, making up for the lousy weather. First uphill into snow drifts. Then down into a stream. Rather boring after a while. However, the temperature/moisture combination was ideal for trench foot, which was experienced by all except the erstwhile virgin, who had worn hiking boots. "You guys do this every week?!" he marveled. It also appeared that Basket was economizing on his colored shamrocks: he could not have laid more than seven ounces of hash on the whole trail. But his footprints gave the trail away. Bondo, after making snow angels along the trail in several spots, grew bored, and wanked off into the woods, following what he thought was a wood nymph, but merely turned out to be a horny coyote. He missed the beer stop but added a new sexual experience to his already dissipated existence.

Beer was found and used to resuscitate our inexplicable virgin, who was near respiratory arrest, although he had dry feet. "You guys really do this every week?!" he mused. A few songs were sung, demonstrating to our ineluctable virgin that none of the hashers parents has wasted money on singing lessons, and then the pack was off again, for the short remaining distance to Basket's abode ("What was that: about seven miles?" asked the inconceivable virgin.)

Basket's long suffering wife had tried to lock the door, but Bondo had picked the lock using a torn fingernail and a pubic hair, and so the bedraggled pack was greeted by the sight of Bondo consuming beer by the fire. The circle was joined, the hare chastised with a 5F score from Bondo, and a "Great Run" and "You guys honestly do this every week?!!" from the ineffable virgin. Songs were sung, and the hashit returned from Dr. WHO to its rightful owner: Bondo, who, in his shame, tried to burn it. This being unsuccessful, he later tried some bathroom remodeling using the hashit, showing carpentry skills on a par with his singing voice. The improbable virgin called his wife over the sounds of this singing: what he told her is unknown, although he was overheard to mention both "terrorist" and "Space aliens" during his conversation. Corned beef and cabbage were provided and the evening ended on a mellow note when it became clear that Basket was not planning to expose himself.

On-on

The Slasher Dr. W.H.O.