Run # 776 March
26, 2001
Hare: Async (Live)
Scribe: Dr Who Slasher
The Start: Snake Den State Park, Johnston
The Weather:
32 degrees F, snowing
Present:
(In order of arrival) The
Slasher Dr. W.H.O., Bondo Jovi, Shine On, Just John, Basket Boom-boom;
Latecumers: WIPOS, P.W.; Supervisors: Ben,
Jake, Baxter, P.W.'s Dog-whose-name-I-do-not-know.
The hare was anxiously pacing when the first of
the pack arrived at 6:15. After a few mumbled instructions regarding the
markings (which were to be in invisible ink activated only by dog urine), the
hare was off, setting live trail through the fresh and rapidly falling snow. [As
an aside, it might be instructive to point out the interesting fact that of the
40" of precipitation in R.I. thus far in the winter of 2000-2001, 39.5 of
them have fallen on Monday nights between the hours of 5 and 9PM.]
The rest of the lead pack gathered by 6:30, and followed the alpha male Dr.
W.H.O. until it became apparent that if they continued to follow him,
they would become hopelessly lost as well as wet. The trail led southeast in a
valley, skirting numerous fetid pools of standing water. More than once, they
were confronted by the eternal quintessential choice for a Rhode Island hasher:
to wade through muck, or charge through briars. A check to the left led to a
stream. Basket and Dr. W.H.O.,
suspecting mysterious levitational powers on the part of the hare, crossed the
stream several times, despite the fact that there were no footprints on the far
side. Meanwhile, on the true trail, Bondo was practicing
the minute waltz on his new (non-dermal) flute, while his hounds raced ahead to
get to the beer; incidentally destroying all the hash marks and checks. Just
John, finding his voice, announced "on-on!" at every clump of
snow on a tree. Shine On held back, hoping to
encounter another virgin, or at least a flasher.
Gradually curving from south to east, a field was encountered.
Bondo, thinking the field was another lake, tried to start a bonfire, but
had left his blowtorch at home. Shine On,
thankfully, remained fully clothed. WIPOS and
P.W. had started by this time, and sauntered along
the true trail, aided by the copious footprints of the hapless FRBs. Turning
gradually, a second false trail again led right to a stream. Again, the hapless
(hopeless) leaders made the crossing several times, Basket
declaring: "Look at all these footprints, there must be someone else out
here." This seems very likely, given what a lovely evening it was for a
stroll in the woods.
Back on true trail, a light was seen in the distance, hovering above the
treeline with an eerie beauty, and promise of suds to come. As the pack
approached, it became apparent that the legendary Rhode Island Cliff-dwellers,
the Fugawi tribe, had magically returned to life, and were beckoning the weary
hashers to a better world. Unfortunately, it turned out that Async
had decided to set a fire on a four foot wide ledge, 25 feet above razor sharp
boulders in the valley below. This masterpiece, no doubt a result of years of
wilderness safety training, was soon surrounded by the pack and three large, wet
and horny dogs. The dogs, disappointed that WIPOS
was not yet there with their new stick, tried to uproot the tree that was the
only thing keeping the ledge from falling into the gorge. They then playfully
tried to knock Shine On into the fire. Bondo
played a serenade on his new instrument. The rest drank Guinness and Bass Ale.
WIPOS and P.W. arrived
and joined the sorry bunch. P.W. had the
well-behaved dog, so felt somewhat out of place. WIPOS
had a new stick, this time crafted of space-age titanium steel, and tried to get
Ben and Jake interested, to no avail. Bondo craftily climbed to the top of the
cliff, and attempted to urinate on the crowd below, but the cold had shrunk his
parts to the point where his stream could not clear his trousers, so he settled
for tossing a few snow balls at Dr. WHO (the
largest target). After a while, it was decided to move on. The fire was
extinguished (no small task, given that it had been started with a small core of
nuclear fuel), and the pack split, taking the low road (Bondo)
and the high road (the rest) back to the cars and the circle.
The circle was joined with beer that the hare had procured from a museum in
Boston, each bottle bearing the original signature, in fine quill-pen writing,
of Samuel Adams, as well as the cryptic word: "Reject". It was pointed
out to the hare that, unlike fine wine, beer is not necessarily the better for
aging. The run was rated with a "Lovely Run" from Bondo,
although most had something better than that to say about it. Bondo
was trying to divert attention from his criminal behavior with the Hashit
the previous week, but unsuccessfully. P.W.
suggested urination on the Hare, and then again on Bondo.
Unfortunately, with the quality of the beer in the circle, all bladders were
empty. The unusually taciturn pack 'Swang Low', and moved to Swampys for the
on-in.
Swampys was marked by good beer, good food, and a pretty bartender named Tara,
who was very impressed that Dr. WHO had graduated
with the highest temperature in his Medical School class. Overall, it was a fine
night, and even WIPOS made it home safely without
escort.
On-on
The Slasher Dr. W.H.O.