Following what were unusually clear and accurate directions, most of the usual crew gathered in the early moonless darkness at the appointed location in Coventry. Async, greeting the first arrivals and whining about not having time to pre-lay (because of his extensive responsibilities at the Barrington Ladies Guild Bake Sale and Crafts Fair), took off at 6:15 to live-set the trail. Dr WHO and Compusex were alone. For all too brief a moment. Then Bondo and a virgin, Just Carole arrived. WIPOS, after circling through Tarbox and by Lake Mishnock a dozen times, finally found the starting point and pulled in, with barely enough time to apply the appropriate vacuum to the hermetic seals on his hash armor. Basket Boom Boom was at this point in custody, the police having been alerted to his presence by the absent but pixie-ish Oozing, who had called in a warning about a well-known flasher who would be in Coventry this evening. Basket was able to talk his way out of it by offering to provide the Coventry PD with six free months of the Playboy Channel on Cox Cable.

At 6:30 then, Bondo, the Slammer Dr WHO, Surfin Compusex, WIPOS and Just Carole were off, heading WSW with GM Jake and Ben across a field of stiff reeds and brambles. The first check was at a road, and both north and south were falsies. The true trail was straight into some woods, then to a steep incline down some loose footing into the famed Coventry Crater. This wonder of man and nature is the site of the tragic yeast explosion at the former Narragansett Brewery. [As you will recall, although never proven this was generally thought to have been caused by well-meaning but ill-advised early experiments in the crafting of an India Pale Ale by the youthful Bondo Jovi.] Behind the group came some lights, some squeals and worst of all a bugle call. It was Basket and EverReady (travelling under the name "Eager Beaver"). The leaders ran faster, to no avail. A cliff of scree composed of macadam, rocks and rusting auto parts was next, and it slowed the pack down until they regrouped with the latecomers on the shores of a toxic pond, a miasma of foul odors and refuse. (Much like the back seat of Bondo's car.) The trail led straight through, according to the arrow.

An initial foray into the water by the Sleeper Dr. WHO did not reveal flour or footprints. He wisely waited for all to soak their feet, watching as a playful group of water rats gambolled in the oil slicked mud. Bondo led the clockwise group up some boulders while Surfin' Compusex tried the counter-clockwise route, to no avail. Confused by the concept of Bondo as an FRB, the rest milled around for a while until they too finally made the ascent to the left. A check was encountered in a stream of partially treated sewage that fed the pond. True trail was straight into some woods, emerging into a sand covered wasteland, reminiscent of the Afghan lowlands. Wreckage of buildings, caves, and mounds of earth abounded. Most of the group headed northwest along the trail, then crossing over dirt mounds into the basin. Basket however had had enough of following the trail. He headed off with Baxter using his years of experience and short-cutting skills to become completely lost, only seconds from the time he separated from the group.

Compusex led, as Bondo's energy flagged having gone for almost 40 minutes without a beer. WIPOS and EverReady chaperoned the virgin, fearing that Basket might return naked. They provided useful instructions to the newcomer, ensuring that if she ever returns to hashing, that she will always be able to get lost with the best of them. Meanwhile, back at the cars PW and Zoe had arrived. He set out immediately hoping to bypass the run and proceed straight to the beer. Finding trail was no problem as both Bondo and the Slicer Dr. WHO had had a Bondo beer before setting out. The odor they left behind them was almost visible. Just to ensure that late arrivals with head-colds could follow, Dr WHO thoughtfully also left a trail of blood from a gash on his left leg.

Across the sands they ran, closer to the hare than they knew. They came to a cliff and despite lack of flour, climbed straight up. The scent of beer was upon them as they approached the giant phallic water tower that marked a site for a beer check that no hasher could ever have resisted. Basket, still separated and lost, saw this mushroom-like erection and headed straight for it, hoping to tryst with his hash spouse, Misses Enema Bill. Likewise PW (Misses Enema Bill) was inspired to head for the monument for similar reasons but as he approached along the southern side of the woods at the top of the cliff, he encountered the rest of the hashers at the beer check and beer won out over romance.

At the beer check, things were going well. Pleasant conversations, good beer, a tourniquet around the Spurter Dr. WHO's leg, and general good behavior had Just Carole pretty much convinced that this hashing stuff was allright. But like a Bondo Beer fart in a crowded elevator, Basket arrived. Inexplicably, he began to sing in a bizarre travesty of the German tongue, and had to be subdued by an interminable rendition of "The Wild West Show". This sent the hare off in disgust to set the trail back. Beer consumed, they headed out in groups.

PW, in an effort to make Basket jealous went off alone with Bondo, heading northeast down the cliff back to the wasteland. The rest followed trail, soon losing it in the sand. WIPOS, EverReady and Just Carole fixed their sights on "The Chicken in a Barrel", while Surfin' Compusex, the Slitherer Dr WHO, and Basket spread out and eventually found trail with Bondo and PW in the blowing sands. It led to the hare who had set up camp in a wrecked two-story concrete house tilted at forty-five degrees with no windows or roof (and bearing a striking resemblance to Osama Bin Laden's current summer home). They made it back to the cars uneventfully. With a wild surmise they realized that EverReady and Just Carole were relying on WIPOS's navigational skills to get them back. A search and rescue mission was briefly considered. By the time it was remembered that WIPOS had cab fare, the missing ones had arrived against all odds. Also waiting by the cars was Tinker, who claimed to have done th! e run twice, backwards and forwards on bad hips, probably missing the hashers while exploring the network of caves and tunnels.

The circle was joined and nearly disbanded immediately when Basket produced copies of his Nazi anthem, and proceeded to sing in a garbled German that would have convinced Martin Luther himself that God could not exist. Again resorting to force, "The Monks of St. Bernard" was begun and Basket was drowned out. The xerox copies of his song were drenched in dark beer to the point of thankful illegibility. The hare entered the circle. Ratings as always showed a kind forbearance: Bondo gave it a "lovely run", and in retaliation, Basket gave a 10F. Tinker and PW rated it the run of the week. EverReady pointed out that the presence of two bimbos made it worth a 10, The Swisher Dr. WHO said that he saw at least four including Misses Enema Bill, and the many-breasted Bondo Jovi. WIPOS sneered at the shiggy, and Surfin' Compusex complained about the weather and the shortness of the run. Overall: 6.9.

Virgin in the circle: without Oozing there was a moment of confusion about who would take over as inquisitor, but Bondo stepped in. This resulted in even more confusion. Just Carole was asked the three sacred questions: she got her name approximately right, said that she was made to cum by the "Slaughter"(?), and thought the square-root of 69 was 7.3! A promising start for the new hasher (although the Simonizer Dr. WHO has been more confused than usual since). Her down down was accomplished with a speed rarely seen at this sedate and abstemious hash. She started to sing. Her first choice: "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" provoked screams of "Blasphemer!", "Coaching!", and "Give me another beer!" Properly chastised, she sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", and Basket did NOT moon her. The backsliding Tinker was then encircled, and briefly made fun of.

The Hashit was brought into the circle by Basket in a sad and pathetic attempt to pass it onto another. The crowd responded to all other nominations with a hearty: "Was ist los? Nein, Nein, NEIN! Das Hashit ist geBasket's uber alles!" The group showed the virgin just why "Swing Low" is the hasher's sacred anthem. At the conclusion of the ceremony the hare called for the on on on at Mike's (Mark's) at exit 6 (not 6A) and they were off into the night for a tour of West Greenwich (although everyone did arrive eventually).

At Mark's the group had pitchers of Guinness and Otter Creek(?). Downing a beer quickly, and complaining about the smoke in the bar,[Imagine that! They allow smoking in a bar where hashers gather!] PW was off into the night, not paying again! PW for GM! Lisa the waitress was delighted to have such a charming and festive group for customers, as was Valerie, a patron who was uninterested in Monday night football, but was fascinated by Basket and his son Async. She joined the group and began chatting with Basket. [This was a relief to EverReady who had been sitting next to Basket as he and Async had been interminably droning on about Excite@home, IP routers, and subnet masks, as well as whether Bill Gates had a bigger penis than Steve Jobs.]

It seemed as if Valerie wanted to make an evening of it, sitting on Basket's lap and questioning the crew about what they were doing. Basket attempted a few personal insults, some racist and pro-Nazi remarks and breaking wind. He sang "When I was eight days old..." and "When I was a little girl..." Valerie begged for more. She moved around the table, advising the hashers to pay close attention and respect to the venerable Tinker-Wan Kenobi, and his son, Bondo. She ruffled The Seizer Dr. WHO's hair, sending flecks of dried sweat and dandruff into Compusex's Tuna melt and Async's Grilled California Yuppie plate. Finally, as a last resort, she was 'Alouetted', at which she became maudlin and said with a sob: "My father used to sing me that song!" It was only her boyfriend telling her to catch a @#^%$! cab that made her drift on into the night, Tinker's phone number tucked safely into her ample cleavage. Lisa came over and thanked the group, and complimented them on their singing.! Basket drowned his mortification in malt vinegar and the evening was over. What is this world coming to? They left without even a "Hi Ho", broken men and women, unable even to get thrown out of a bar in West Greenwich.

On on

The Saurian Dr W.H.O.