The "You've Got A Friend in North Kingstown" Hash

Run # 820  January 21, 2002

Hare:  WIPOS

Scribe:  EverReady Eager Beaver 69

Location: Mapleville

The Weather:    Upper 20's, icy, cold

Management: Jake, Ben, Baxter.
Late Cumers: Eager Beaver, Surfin’ Compusex

The Run:

Falling snow met the assembling hashers behind the Brooks Drugstore on Rte 1 in North Kingstown. It promised to be a fantastic hash, with the prospect of shiggy, freezing temperatures, and no bimbos. The hare was last to arrive; having set the last minute adjustments to what we would find out later, could have used a couple more.

Tinker was hobbling along, and promised Short Shorts' delicacies at the OnOn. The parking lot was plowed clean, with pillows of snow lining the start of the woods. The hare gave additional directions, ignored by all, and the pack plowed over the snow and into drifts of briars seven feet high.

The hare had marked the trail using small squares with H printed on them. Bondo complained the entire time about not bringing his reading glasses and not able to see what they said. The remainder were happy to know WIPOS didn’t try the Async method of marking in footprints, because as we searched along we often crossed our own tracks making the true direction confusing at best. The little H’s did their work, as we meandered yet further west into the state lands. This park is known around the state by its Indian name, Cocumscussoc, meaning ‘big briar, little joy’, called by the early settlers as Cum Suck It, thinking the big briar was between their thighs, and the gagging pain that went with it. Little did they know that that place was really on the Woonsocket and Cumberland line.

We made our way deeper and deeper, and the briars now towered over the trees, as each mile passed left more and more skin/clothing upon the brush. Till at last we found the beer. Nestled in the trees/briars, beside a roaring fire, on the edge of someone’s private property. Singing and drinking, louder and faster, until all the lights on the house were ablaze. Deciding that it was getting late and cold, we followed trail back out to Rte 1.

As we made our way north towards the parking lot a mile away, a very pleasant man stopped to ask us what we were doing in his back yard? And did we think it was smart running around in the dark with hunters poaching everywhere? Bondo stepped up to the challenge of explaining what we do, then WIPOS, followed by Basket and Oozing. All failing terribly, as we explained to the man that we run through state parks, and he followed with “NO NO”, that is my property, “NO NO!”

Well, we guessed it would have been out of the question to ask him for a ride up the street, so we continued trotting along. A North Kingston Police vehicle followed closely, probably trying to protect us from the unruly locals. They’re as prickly as those damn briars. He followed us into the parking lot as was just waiting there, when the happy man drove up as we met late cumers Eager Beaver and Muffalotto.

Again he approached us trying to make crystal clear what drives us to do what we do, when Baxter, who had been extremely quiet up to this point, exclaimed, “Get the fuck out!” And he did.

We realized that Surfin’ Sex was out on trail, and since we were cold, hungry and hadn’t had a beer in 15 minutes, we decided to leave a map for him and go over to Tinkers.

No fire to warm our cockles, but plenty of beer and the sweet aroma of Thai food cooking in the kitchen. We circled up, and gave the hare down-downs (2), because of his hat. We gave visitors one, and the hairy one showed us all her new doo. Neatly trimmed in a triangle, lined by smooth thighs and a beer belly. She also showed us her posterior and succulent parts. The phone rang, and CompUsEX was on his way, arriving minutes later, half-naked, pulled into the circle for a latecumer down-down.

Discussion followed about renaming the trimmed-bush one, but damned if I remember what it was. Hashit was kept by Oozing, and we sang religion.

Short Shorts' table was brilliantly set, with plates and spoons and forks and beer. The Thai food was served, and we attempted to keep the rice away from Oozing, to little avail. The singing and drinking and eating carried on into the wee hours, and as we left Eager the bi-Beaver exclaimed that she was going to get some with the Muff. The lucky bitch.

On On,

Oozing