Hare Gets Lost in the Woods

Run #830 March 25, 2002

Harried Hare: Async
Little Lemmings: Oozing Syphilitic Dictaphone, Slasher Dr. WHO, Basket Boom Boom, Baxter, Raging Queen of Beers (AKA Surfin' Compusex), Smirf, Baxter II and his pet.
Vacillating Visitors: Miranda Rights (Newport H3), Seaman Mixer (Newport H3)
Location: Somewhere at the end of the Rainbow, between Rte 95 ant the Big River.

The Run:

It was a dark and stormy night, the tell tale heart thumped a rhythm in all of the lemmings ears, as we waited the distant figure, making his way along a bleak and lonely Division Road all alone. As he came closer the outline of a desperate man, at the end of his rope, looking for some small kindness from his friends. It was Async, having been lost in the deepest swamp of the Big River Sewage Slurry. All we could say to comfort him was, "Where's the fuckin' beer?" It was 28 past the hour, and it became quite evident, that no others would join us.

Oozing, the Slasher, Basket and Baxter were explaining to the Groping Groton Guys, that the hare knows this area like the back of his hand. Too bad he was always looking at the penis in his palm, instead of the back of his hand. He was quite disheveled and forlorn, and the sorry bastard looked like he had just arrived from Kabul.

Miserable instructions were given, and the pack migrated out towards the highway, over the very same dunes that were the final resting place for the "Lone Jogger" 5 years ago this week.  Basket had his Hash instincts in high gear as he proceeded to get lost off to the north, while the main pack crossed 2 dunes and followed a path to the south.

It was a path covered with pines, bending low to shelter us from the last breath of winter. A storm had brought much needed rain just the day before, but little was left, save that damned cold blast from Canada, chilling and killing our desire to be outside, with thoughts of a roaring fire, two fists of beer, while the naked waitress asks if there's anything she can give us?????

So much for the pleasantries. I found myself lagging far behind those of smaller waists and derrieres, and soon feeling the hot breath of Baxter on the back of my neck, made my hair stand on end. He's a devil of a dog. A full foot taller than I am when crawling up a sandy crag. Basket followed a short way behind, and the three of us proceeded to shortcut to the road. We knew the trails would converge there, and it only made sense to save our energy for later.

The pack was just crossing as we arrived, and together the sorry band of malcontents made their way out to a putrid swamp.  Async had not been seen in some time, so we wondered if there was a trick up the weasel's arse. We continued along a deer path, our across some standing water, leaping wherever possible from clump of grass to fallen tree. More often we fell short and up to our knees in the foulest stagnant water and of a stench most difficult to explain as my throat, even still tightens against the veins of my neck.

A Beer Check was found eventually, and it was sometime later that the bag of goodies was found. As all drank from the lovely liquid, Async's voice, like the sound of so many tree frogs, came whispering across the water. He was paddling his canoe, and was quite quick to explain how he had set trail far off in the distance, and had planned to bring us across to the beer. His failing was he had gotten lost, and couldn't find his way back to the same location. After the start he had ran ahead of us and remarked the trail cutting off 5 miles of gut wrenching smell.

As we enjoyed the beer, other voices and a whistle was hear. Soon splashing and vicious complaints of the location of a beer stop brought a duo from Newport. I guess the weather wasn't better further east, and they decided to grace our hash.

Seaman Mixer and Miranda Rights had made it just as the last beer was opened. The more generous of us shared theirs, while the bulk hung tightly to their glass vessels. Having finished the beer, we started out across the same deer trail, turning northerly now and into deep standing pools on the back roads. Oozing tried to find the most shallow out along the edge, but instead found a steep slippery slope, and water splashing his most precious jewels, 'the balls of Mohammed".  We were soon at Beer Stop number 2 and the circling up.

The hare got a Down-down, along with the visitors. Oozing got one for a fairly lame excuse, and many songs were sung until the beer was finished. We sojourned to the same old bar Async always takes us to, and we had much joy and satisfaction, knowing we were safe and warm with beer near.

On On,

WIPOS