Bondo vs Native Americans Hash

Run: #843 June 24, 2002
Hare: Bondo
Location: Cumberland
Scribe: Eager Roamin' Beaver
Weather: Poor (sunny, low 70s)
Present:  Bondo Jovi, Async, Basket, Oozing, Dr Who, Trail Hoover
Hashit: Basket

Celebrating: Anniversary of the King Philip War June 24, 1675

On Saturday 3 Wampanoag Indians were put to death for the murder of a Christian Native American who was acting as an informer to the British. Snotty was still away in the UK, but it was thought he had some influence on the informants sending the latest scoop about the German Football team using metal spikes in their shoes. It was for naught, as the Brits lost to Germany 2 to 1, in an exciting display of Aryan superiority. The very next day, King Philip responded by sending a raid on the Diamond Hill Sisters of Mercy Camp, where scores of settlers were massacred not unlike the football team, in easy fashion.

As we gathered at the foot of the first assault up the historic Cul-de-sac, we could hear the cries of pain and anguish suffered by the British at the hands of the Germans. To loose so decisively, in what many Paki’s thought would be an easy undertaking, the wankers floundered and fell victim to their own meteoric play.

A very small band of Indians, no make that Pakistanis and their Bimbo, we don’t use the term Squaw, gathered along with Chief Dr. WHO, Indian First Class a’Shincter, and Chief Basket Boom Boom. Together with their hunting wolves Jake, Ben, and Baxter, they listened to the Great Bondo Jovi speak.

"We will follow the true path, up hill and dale, across rock and paved road, for many miles, until we see the great flour god make his mark upon the ground in the sign of a "B". Searching thereupon, we will find great gladness and satisfaction, from the vessels hidden therein."

We started out thinking, "What the fuck is this asshole talking about?" but kept it to ourselves, as we know how sensitive he’s become since his last batch of beer turned out tasting like shit.

Boom Boom followed Chief WHO? Him! Oh! Up the hill to the first check and the second check and again at the third, when Boom Boom thought to himself, "shit, any idiot could follow flour trail. Try listening for buffalo with your ear pressed deeply in mud, shit and piss. Now there’s a challenge for you."

Boom Boom left the Great Chief Who? Him! and followed the path of the great warriors. The Paki followed Boom Boom, along with Jake and Baxter, who didn’t know better. The Paki had second thoughts, and called out to Boom Boom, "Why am I following you? I must be fuckin’ nuts." And so it was that shortly there after, flour was found and in a short while the wondrous "B".

Chief WHO" Him! Settled there in a short while, and inspecting along water’s edge, up rocky cliff and under fallen leaf, no beer was found. High upon the ridge, Boom Boom hears the pathetic cry of the Bondo Jovi. " Those Bastards must have shortcut to the beer. I set this great long trail along the road for all to travel, and only a’Sphincter and Bimbo followed flour. Why did I waste so much time and energy on my day off? I could have sat in my easy chair, watching Homer or the Three Stooges, sucking down beers, as I munched on cow chips and salsa."

The beer was hidden deep in the backpack, and it was good reason why we couldn’t find it in our searching. Brown Ale was served and a cooling swim was enjoyed by all, as we waited for the long-suffering bastards to return from their 4-mile tour of the massacre site. First to arrive was a’Shincter, who had traveled by foot along the paved road, fearful of shortcutting and hurting the sensitive feelings of the hare. Next we could hear from the ridge above, the Bimbo, Trail Hoover, fly over her handlebars and landed on her headlight. All was well, as she recovered most of her pieces, easy.

More beer was served, and swimming, and singing, and more beer was enjoyed, until the very worst thing to happen since 1675. We ran out of beer! We were all on a warpath, and decided to get the flock out of here.

Following Bondo Jovi, was Trail Hoover and Basket, finding that the beer does cause ones ability to make sound decisions somewhat diminished, as they listened to his instructions to take the trail to the right, because it was shorter. Bondo speaks with forked tongue, but it was a pretty view across the lake from our vantagepoint, even if it was from ground level, as we fell on our faces over trees and rocks. Eventually we made our way out to the parked cars, before the search party went out for us. The remainder of the tribe had already arrived, having taken the actual shorter route.

A semi-circle was formed, as a’Shincter had to go back to his teepee early, as his bride instructed. It is a shame that a once proud man can fall to such depths. A strange liquid was poured, and tasting we all decided it was leftover from the portable urinal Bondo Jovi keeps when he has a house full. Throwing most of it on Bondo Jovi, we down-downed a’Sphincter for being less than a brave, and feeling sorry for him as he drove away; we wished him well.

We all drove over to the Bondo Jovi camp, where buffalo dynamite and week old pigeons were served with proper beer and ice cream. Brave Wipos arrived late, as did Princess Blowing Bondo in the Wind under Pines. Both deserved down-downs, but as it was way too late too not be having a good time, we bid adieu and sojourned home.

On On,

   Your ever loyal roamin' beaver