George Washington Beans & Sausage 

 Run # 806  October 15, 2001

Hare:  Basket

Scribe:  Dr Who

Where:   George Washington Management Area, Glocester, RI

The Weather: Clear, High 50's

Present:   Async (Ward), Bondo Jovi (June), The Slasher Dr. W.H.O. (Wally), WIPOS (Lumpy Rutherford), Short Peck (Whitey Whitney), Oozing SD (Eddie Haskell), and EverReady (as "The Beav").

Hashit: Bondo

Management: Baxter, Ben, Jake.

Celebrating: Tunisian Evacuation Day and Baxter's 2nd birthday (69 in Hash-Dog years).

The Run:

The hard-bitten and grimly determined men of Easy Company gathered near dusk with a firm... No, that's not right. It was the confused and oft-incontinent wankers of the RIH3 who gathered near dusk at the #1 hash site in RI: Cady's Tavern,  the only place on earth where the arrival of a group of hashers will actually raise the real estate values. Apart from Short Peck the custodian of Baxter's drool cup, Async was first to arrive, followed by Dr. WHO. Both were in work clothes (hashit?), and the two of them began to change doing their 'dance of the seven veils and hernia trusses' in their cars as the others arrived. EverReady had Dr. WHO change her batteries, but this was OK because he is a medical professional. And he has a huge recharger. WIPOS was almost unrecognizable in his full winter garb, ultimately protection for which he would not have any use on the trail to come. The hare showed up with no evidence of shiggy about his person, followed by Bondo Jovi, Ben, Jake and finally Oozing who came disguised as a twenty-something blonde debutante from the Hamptons.

Baxter was visibly excited and ran from car to car, producing massive quantities of unusually viscous and odiferous drool as an offering to the canine shiggy-gods. Likewise the hare was so worked up that while giving instructions, he began spilling large quantities of white powder all over the parking lot. Despite the likely fact that the usual patrons of Cady's were not blessed with the mental acuity to be suspicious of white powder on the road, it was decided to leave a note for their reassurance. It read:

"Plese to know that this poudre is only grund weat, and has none wotsoever of dedly antracks or other naughty and bad Taliban trix etc. sined: Bas'qet al Bumbum."

The hare gave directions stating that the run was to be A to B (which caused great rejoicing within Cady's, as the group would end their shenanigans elsewhere). He boasted that each tree would have powder at its base. He claimed marvelous shiggy. He pointed west and said "Go". Off west on Putnam Pike they went, led by Async and Oozing. A quick turn to the north past an unidentified building with large amounts of garage space, and they were into the woods. But persistent PATHS, lack of FLOUR,  NO briars, and NO shiggy would plague the group, ultimately resulting in the temporary misplacement of Async and Bondo, AND the tragic loss of 4 FBI agents who were following the suspicious crew and ended up drowning in DRY ARM BROOK far to the north [this also resulted in the unfortunate hand injury incurred by your scribe when his wife discovered that he had been misusing the CAPS lock key again and she had to discipline him with a ruler].

The banks of the Bowdish Reservoir were reached, and followed to the east and north. Async was too clever to follow the trail (WHAT TRAIL?), and so set off on his own. He was determined to miss the beer check and to get back to Cady's where a lovely with seven intact teeth had promised him a vision of paradise. Thus Short Peck led, his pate a beacon to the rest of the crew. Except of course for Bondo, who decided that the trail [WHY IS THERE NO FLOUR?] must lead to Sofa Spud's home, as visited in the "Robbie Burn's Run" last winter. As a result, he circumambulated the Bowdish Reservoir one-and-one-half times. To your scribe, an inexperienced but hopefully acute observer, this suggests a pattern. Why is it that, when confronted by water, Bondo must go all the way around? What could it mean? Tarbox Pond, Stump Pond, Carr Pond, Burlingame Reservoir and more all have been circumnavigated by the worthy Bondo, in fruitless search for beer. Perhaps if we led him to the shores of the Atlantic, he would run for all eternity, a "Flying Hashman" whose sighting would signify a momentous event, a clash between Good and Evil (or at least temporarily stop "Miss Cleo's" commercials on TV). Never mind. Along the reservoir went the rest, east to a feeble excuse for shiggy where the hare had laid trail in the lake, two yards away from obvious dry land. Only Oozing got wet. Short Peck led on, now north and west past a shelter and into the woods.

Following the Pecker were EverReady, Oozing, WIPOS, Dr WHO, and the hare who made frequent excuses for the lameness of his trail. "Oh, it rained real hard after I set the trail." "Oh, I can't believe this check mark was washed away!" "Oh, I think the beer stop is this way... No, it's this way... No, I'm lost! Oh, help me, Oozing!" "Async! Bondo! Where are you?"  After running back and forth on the George Washington Road at least four times, a bugle signified that the hare had at last found HIS OWN beer stop. At shelter #1 the beer was found and a group consisting of the hare, Oozing, Dr WHO, WIPOS, EverReady and Short Peck enjoyed Trinity Brew whilst awaiting Bondo and Async.

Meanwhile, back at Cady's, PW had arrived. Terrified at the sight of white powder in the parking lot, he urinated on all the cars with On-On stickers, and went into Cady's. He soon received an education in human physiology from the waitress with seven teeth. The rest is better left unsaid. 

The beer stop was marked by unfortunate incidents. EverReady, following the instructions of the hare (this must be a hashit offense), brought presents for Baxter. The first was a device whose nefarious design cannot be mentioned upon these family-oriented pages. Suffice to say, it was quickly stolen by the hare, inserted into the nether regions of his anatomy. This device made suggestive and squeaky noises whenever the hare bent over throughout the night. Second was a leather whip. All of the group gasped with envy. Baxter's lack of opposable thumbs made this a questionable gift for his birthday. I mean he is a dog, after all. The hare begged for personal punishment with Baxter's new toy. It went unused however until, like a zit with pus that has reached the pressure limit, Bondo burst from the woods and joined the group. The shameful loss of beer, whipping, spanking, more spanking, and general naughtiness that came next cannot be described (although it would doubtless make Async green with envy). Dr WHO gave everyone shots (in case the Dept. of Health is worried). At one point, the group heard Async in the woods. As soon as he heard the whistles, yells and trumpet sounds, his noises unaccountably went in the opposite direction.

Following the hares directions from the beer check, the group went on southeast to a right turn on the  'blue' trail, then to the North-South trail (which always seems to go East-West). Either way, it was missed. The main party went back and forth until the hare's bugle called them southeast to the second beer/On-On stop. Async was found by the fire, a major upset. But, when the fire was stoked, and the sausages and beans were warming and the circle was joined, it didn't seem so bad after all. Hare in the circle. Ratings were confused: Bondo was imbecilic, EverReady was inexplicable, Dr WHO was incompetent, WIPOS was infantile, Oozing was implacable, Short Peck was indefinable, and Async was indescribable. The dogs were ineluctable. When the mathematical minds had calculated the returns, it was: RIH3 - 6.9, Manchester United - 0. But, I digress. Multiple songs were sung, in multiple keys. [Astrologists in the group speculated that when the planets were aligned properly (once every 3000 years), the RIH3 could expect to all be on key at the same time.] Hashit to Bondo because he's Bondo. Crimes committed were too numerous to punish as the hare had insufficient beer to down-down everyone three or four times. Thus all are expected to pay a monetary fine to the Hash in the amount of $273.49, to be paid to Dr WHO (as the monetary representative of the RIH3) immediately, and without reservation. And in cash.

After dinner and fire hazards, on back they went to Cady's. A hardcore of the Hare, Bondo, Oozing, Short Peck, Dr WHO, WIPOS and Async went in to the bar. The others went home. What happened at Cady's? Scenes of debauchery, licentiousness, dead bear molesting, and St. Bernard taunting occurred the likes of which I cannot describe, because they are too awful and I am too damned tired to continue this nonsense anyway after all I am only human and my wife's out of town and the kids are driving me crazy and the hemmorhoids aren't exactly my idea of a good time, whatever, and I'm sorry it took me so long to do this write up but it sucks anyways so why are you complaining you sorry sons-a-bitchs who wouldn't know the bleeding Treaty of Utrecht from a bloody Tiger's Bum, if it matters to you which it does to me already.

On On

The Slasher Dr. W.H.O.

P.S.  {Webmaster's note:   Because Dr WHO likes to impress us illiterate chumps with his high falutin' obscure historical references, your faithful webmaster will endeavor, from now on,  to to provide hyperlinks to relevant explanations.  Quizzes will be held before each circle on the historical meaning and context of Dr Who's write-ups.    Winners will be allowed to change Eveready's batteries, losers will be forced to engage in a humiliating WIPOS look-alike fashion show}.