Run # 808  October 29, 2001

Hare:  Bondo Jovi

Scribe:  Dr Who

Where:   Woonsocket

The Weather:   50's, clear

Present:   Beaver Jovi, The Beaver Dr. WHO, WIBOS, Everbeaver, Tinkerbeav

Hashit: Tinker

Visitors: Suzie "Beaver" Wong (Queensland Dinkum-Diggers H3)
Virgins: Just Linda, Just Marilyn, Just Georgina, Just Ginger, Just Amber, Just Vanessa.
Non-Runner: Just Big Beaver Sh*t
Management: Jake, Ben.

The Run:

The hare came out of his house at 6 o'clock, and nervously adjusted his corsets as he awaited the hashers. He was attired in a charming white gown with a black top (a la Snow White), capped with a first communion veil, a black wig and a chimpanzee face. Being Woonsocket, passers-by noted nothing out of the ordinary. At about 6:15, the Halloween revelers began to arrive led by Dr WHO. He was clad in a striking OR dress, with platinum blond hair,  Parisian lip rouge, and carrying a French-English phrase book. Next, Eveready pulled up, dressed with a grass skirt and other enhancements of her charms as a buxom Hawaiian in search of a lei. WIPOS parked, and began to adjust his costume, which bore a striking resemblance to... WIPOS! [He did add a wide open reptile mask which unfortunately did not conceal his face and merely made him look like WIPOS in a bad mood.]

 As 6:30 approached, it appeared that this was going to be it. Oozing was Grand Marshall at the Provincetown "Have a Gay Halloween" Parade, Basket was under arrest for spreading Mad Cow disease in the UK, Short Peck was having his skull waxed and Simonized(TM) for Wednesday trick-or-treating, and Async couldn't come when he discovered a run in his pantyhose.  Just as they were about to leave however, a small bus turned into the hare's driveway. The famed "Legs and Eggs Sextet" from the Foxy Lady had heard many stories about the RIH3 from one of their regular patrons (Async, you naughty boy!), and had decided to get some exercise in Woonsocket. They arrived dressed as the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, spunky minxes prepared for anything. Instructions were given by the hare: chalk on telephone poles, pumpkins for checks, and a beer check were promised.

Off into the streets of Woonsocket they went, side by each, with Mistress W.H.O. in the lead, followed by the admiring girls and WIPOS. WIPOS, as the sole representative of 'masculinity', received more than his share of admiration from the visitors. ("Oh, what a long pink pole you have, WIPOS," cooed Just Georgina.) Dr. WHO and the hare also were subjects of the lovely girls' attention. Dr. WHO offered free check-ups to all ("You have such a gentle touch, Doctor," sighed Just Marilyn), and Bondo demonstrated visions of what "Lesbian Bestiality" was all about ("Oh, you cheeky monkey!" said Just Linda).

The trail led away from the river at first, then curved around and down to River street, avoiding the usual foray on the railroad tracks. The Blackstone was followed southeast. A motorcycle gang was seen, headed for Bob's Tavern. Quickly the Harley crowd was pursued by the busty Eveready. She had just then gently rejected the advances of Just Ginger ("Oh, Eveready! You are so firm, yet yielding!"). Now, Eveready's chances for a date looked good as the bikers moved into the bar.  By coincidence however, the Woonsocket Dental Association (with BOTH members in attendance) was having it's annual meeting in Bob's and and the boys lost interest in her when the dentists began to give a free standing-room only lecture entitled: "Gum Care for the Edentulous". Eveready moved back onto the trail, where progress had been halted as Dr. WHO searched for Stump Pond behind Box Seats, and Bondo stopped to sing songs of the Old South in his monkey bride costume in Tyra's.

The crowd reformed, crossing the river at the Bernon Street bridge beyond River Island Park. Trail led uphill almost continuously from this point winding through the streets of Bernon Heights towards the fatefully named Mount St. Charles. Turning onto Willow street, a "BN" was seen and there in the distance, shimmering like the air over the Johnston Landfill on a hot summer's day, was the Original Bondo Van! [N.B. The van has been set up as a Hash Shrine and Museum, and can be viewed by appointment at its current Willow Street location at "Dave's Import Motors and Pork Pies", until it is towed to its permanent location in Rumson, NJ next spring.] All ten runners, the two dogs, two bikers with a chopper chick, as well as a Woonsocket policeman on the lam from Box Seats, were able to fit into the van. Beer was consumed. Odors were sampled (bringing back memories of years gone by, and causing WIPOS to demonstrate falling backwards from the van twice). Songs were sung. A seminude game of Twister was played until Eveready's strobe "flashlight" (that's what SHE likes to call this suspicious device) disappeared into someone's anatomy. No one would admit to having it, but the hare did have a foolish grin just visible under his chimp face.

Back on trail, turning west, and crossing the Court Street bridge, trail led into the main part of town. Drivers and pedestrians alike gazed in wonder, and  cries of "Qu'est-ce que c'est?", "Zut, alors!" and "Voila le merde de la cochon!" were heard by the hashers amidst the general honking, and rude gesturing of downcity Woonsocket. Churches were encountered in great numbers (at least two-tree times). The virgins, feeling guilty about their actions in the van (some of which are illegal in up to 42 states), dropped out en mass at Precious Blood Church, where a large scale drive-through Confession and Absolution was being held. Regretfully, the diminished pack moved on up Arnold street, to Woodland and back down Meadow to Chez Bondo.

In Bondo's garden, like two giant hemorrhoids inflamed to the bursting point by Bondo-brew, sat Tinker and the visitor Suzie Wong. They had a story about losing trail at one of the early checkmarks (as if that could have happened on a Bondo trail), and so had come back to await the pack. Tinker, blushing under his platinum blonde wig, had obviously seen Dr. WHO's costume in the distance, and in shame had run to CVS to by flashing devils horns for himself and his friend. Numerous scratches on the locks showed that they had desperately tried to get at the beer. Failing this, they sat in the garden sipping weak cider and cappuccino and telling imagined stories of their own valor at hashes past.

The circle was held in the stainless steel "Fortress of Beeritude" in the basement. Tinker and the visitor both rated it "Run of the Year", and Tinker was subsequently nominated for "Hasher of the Year" for having the sense not to run at all for Bondo's trail. Dr WHO gave a -69, for a shiggyless run, but corrected himself upward by the absence of Basket, Async, Oozing, Short Peck, and Shine On to ultimately settle at +0.69. Eveready confused the pack with a rating of 9.6, but she was standing on her head, looking in the mirrored surfaces of stainless steel when she gave the number. WIPOS produced a fearsome and hideous artifact. [Apparently, he had been out scouting trail and (surprise!) had gotten lost. He only had a plastic spoon with him because his wife won't allow him to be near sharp objects. With nothing else to do, and no skunks to train, He had painstakingly carved a log into a startling likeness of Bondo Jovi using only the spoon. His plan was to mentally ask the effigy for directions out of the woods using a hitherto unknown psychic force (Bondo Jedi?).] This "Bondo log" was produced and proceeded to mystically rate the run an astounding 7F. Songs were sung, the hashit was missing, but given in name to Tinker for backsliding. The group Swung Low and moved upstairs.

The hare had made his stores for some real Woonsocket dynamite, but having 'high precious blood' and 'very close veins' he realized he had better dilute the mixture with non-meat protein, so another Bondo-chili was born. He made sure of its toxicity by leaving it out all day at room temperature to maximize bacterial overgrowth. Just Big Sh*t arrived and after greeting the group and eating, resumed her Herculean efforts at removing the odiferous black ring around the hot-tub which had been present since Basket's last visit at Run #798 in August. As always, a good time (not to mention an effective bowel cleansing) was had by all.


On On


The Slasher Dr. W.H.O.