Location: Browning Mill Pond Recreation Area, Arcadia, Exeter.

Present: Async, Bondo Jovi, Basket Boom Boom, Oozing Syphilitic Dicktaphone, The Slasher Dr. W.H.O., EverReady, W.I.P.O.S.

Visitors: Polly (Dublin H3, formerly Brunei H3, RIH3), Pound Puppy (Houston H3,formerly Pittsburgh H3).

Virgins: Just Matt, Just Brett.

Management: Jake, Ben, Baxter.

It was a dark and stormy night. Rain was pouring in the cold mists of southern RI. Traffic was at a standstill on I95. The Exeter police were on high alert, having heard rumors of an impending night raid across the border from Connecticut. In spite of this, the intrepid men, women and mad dogs of the RIH3 made their various ways to an isolated corner of the Arcadia Management Area to see if the Nutmeg boys could hash with the best. The hare, Surfin' Compusex, made sure to meet all the stringent requirements of the RIH3 by giving directions that were confused at best; renaming a few roads, and going into unnecessary detail at certain points. In spite of this, one by one the hashers arrived and were directed by mysterious strangers off Nooseneck Hill Road to a parking area at a gate on the Tefft Hill Trail.

The hares and virgins from Connecticut were first to arrive, followed by the visitor and backslider Polly, from Dublin, and Async from Barrington. Dr WHO and Bondo soon followed. While they were sampling a beer from the back of the hare's truck, one of the virgins (Just Matt, I believe) who had been directing traffic at the turn off rolled up and said that he had mistakenly tried to invite the local DEM Enforcement Officer. The officer apprised of the evenings plans, stated that this was illegal and the hashers couldn't proceed unless they were prepared to either: catch some fish, kill some raccoons, or play dueling banjos while sexually assaulting the virgins. [Just Matt left that part out of his story.] It was decided to play stupid if caught (not much of an acting challenge for this bunch!).

The hares donned white paper suits hoping if caught to convince the DEM man that they were the Exeter HazMat team disposing of the anthrax that had been sighted in these woods. They set off to lay the trail, while the rest gave nervous glances down the road during the fifteen minute head start. Headlights were seen coming towards the parking area. The group all ran behind the trucks, doused their lights and crouched, holding their hands in front of their eyes, stifling giggles like a group of preadolescent school girls hiding from the headmistress. But it was Oozing. Minutes later, this pitiful scene was repeated again for EverReady. Then again, for WIPOS. It was pathetic.

In disgust, Bondo and the management team were off at maximum speed (a pace equivalent to an arthritic snail). The rest waited for the requisite time hiding, as much from Basket Boom Boom as the DEM man, and then set off. The trail led east with a couple of easily dispatched zigzag checks moving slightly north crossing over the ambitiously named "Roaring Brook" and its branches several times. It was discovered that the checks were represented by three dots of flour. Not knowing this, several of the RIH3 regulars got caught running in very tight circles around these marks and had to be forcibly pulled back on trail by the visitors in order to continue. Polly decided to show why he is a legend in the hashing world, and commenced the most frequent, graceful, and ludicrous series of falls that it has ever been your scribe's pleasure to witness. Not wanting to be shown up, Dr WHO (no slouch when it comes to falling like an idiot) started to trip over rocks and vines, and the FRB's could hear the loud crashes and thuds followed by shouted obscenities, from miles ahead. [Speaking of FRB's, this hash made hash history, as: a) Bondo Jovi was a FRB throughout the run to the beer check, b) Bondo claimed to have caught the live hare, and c) Bondo actually made it to the beer check!]

The rain which had been significant before the start, was dying down and the temperature rose substantially. Unfortunately, all had dressed as if they were attending the WIPOS family reunion, and became overheated rapidly (especially EverReady who was distinctly flushed and tousled at the beer check and tried to slander Dr WHO when we all know who SHE wants for GM, the crafty minx!). As they headed northeast, marks became toilet paper, and Bondo was inspired to add to the trail with a few special movements of his own so to speak. As he remained in front, this resulted in substantial confusion for those who followed until they realized that the trail was partly marked in USED toilet paper. Because of the heat, the cohare began to set trail with parts of his white suit, and these led to a gate and the beer check which was found back on the Tefft Hill trail, under the southbound lanes of I 95. The beer was found to consist of Sam Adams varietals and a strange yellow liquid of unusual and unappealing taste and odor. On the cans(!) of this foul brew was the astounding, unfounded slogan: "King of Beers"! Most of the group used this to clean their sneakers. Even Jake wouldn't risk life and limb by drinking it. A few songs were sung and the hare was off again. After waiting about ten minutes, the run resumed.

They split into two groups by the gate when it became clear that no marks were used. One group consisting of Bondo, Basket, Just Matt, Just Brett and a few others chose the simple expedient of backtracking for a while. They found some TP and made appropriate use of it, ensuring that the stragglers would get lost. The rest fanned out. Oozing took the high route onto Tefft Hill while WIPOS, Dr WHO, EverReady and Polly (not wanting to exert themselves by going uphill) formed a wide south facing arc searching for signs of humanity. They headed southwest along the slopes of Tefft Hill looking for flour, TP or even a path. Eventually, a trail marked with yellow blazes was found and after about one-quarter of a mile, flour was spotted near the crossing of the yellow trail and RI's North-South Trail. From this point the trail was straight south west, with numerous dips filled with very satisfying puddles and mud every few yards. Finally, the runners came out in small groups onto Old Nooseneck road finally, turned north and headed to the down down area at a turn-off to the left near Browning Mill Pond.

The ceremony was joined and the hares called to account. Ratings were generally favorable because of the weather: Bondo gave 12+F, WIPOS claimed that some moisture had actually reached through to his skin, Async loved the shiggy, Polly stated he enjoyed the rocks and tree roots, the virgins thought it wasn't athletic enough, Basket decried the lack of German anthems, Oozing loved the beer at the beer check, Pound Puppy thought it was too short, and Dr WHO got mired up in mathematical calculations. The end result: a +0.69. The hares sang two lines from the refrain of "The Hairs on Her Dickey Di Do" and got lost, requiring the services of the RIH3 Festival Choir to flesh out the rendition of this classic. Next: virgins in the circle. Just Brett had no intelligible answer to any of his three questions although GM Jake appeared to understand him completely. Just Matt got his name, admitted to perversions with Compusex, and, will coaching from Just Brett who finally recovered his voice, knew that the square-root of 69 was "Ate-something". The down downs lasted longer than the run as Just Brett appeared to have a swallowing disorder. Then, they ad-libbed a song using the word "Beer", which was a great success. Visitors in the circle: Neither had a reasonable explanation for why they had chosen to run with the RIH3 so there was little discussion. Pound Puppy tried to correct the RIH3 protocol, provoking howls of derisive laughter. Polly sang "I'm a Wanker" with great aplomb.

Hashit in the circle. But where was the hashit? Oozing was found hiding in the bushes where, inspired by the visitor's song he had gone off for a bit of a wank. Not wanting to inconvenience him, the circle was moved around him in the thorns. Nominations included all of the regulars but Basket was despondent at having lost the hashit the previous week, and demanded it back, provoking an open power struggle between the two for the dishonor. Finally, the circle moved back into the open, and had closing religion. The on on on was to be back at Mark's (a.k.a. Mike's, Mac's, Mork's) off exit 6(6A) in the hope that Basket could hook back up with Just Valerie from Run #813.

For the first time on record, all the runners made it to the restaurant. Basket tried to protect his beer from malt vinegarization by arranging the tables into an impenetrable barrier protecting himself and EverReady from all others (and there were some strange goings on underneath the table, I can tell you!). Async again came close to receiving a reprimand from the RIH3 Medical squad by ordering the Grilled Vegetable Plate, ignoring the possibility of dangerously lowering his alcohol-negating cholesterol levels. Pound Puppy took it upon himself, with the virgins assisting, to try to recruit some patrons at a neighboring table to future RIH3 events. Lisa the waitress denied knowing where Just Valerie might be. With incomprehensible decorum: no food fights, no vinegar in the beer, and no songs, the evening came to a mellow close. The Connecticut Connection is invited to set trail for the RIH3 anytime, although they will of course be required to take the mandatory 6 hour "Bondo Beer Appreciation and Safety Course" before they will be allowed to import anymore of the "Beer that made Milwaukee Famous" (And the RIH3 Nauseous) onto hash trails.

On on

 Dr W.H.O.