The Burrillville Population Explosion Hash

Run: #845 July 8, 2002
Hare: Async
Location: Buck Hill Management Area, Burrillville
Scribe: The Slasher Dr. W.H.O.
Weather: 80's, Clear
Present:  The Slasher Dr W.H.O., Beyond Hope, Basket Boom Boom, Snotty, Short Peck, Bondo Jovi, W.I.P.O.S., Oozing Syphilitic Dicktaphone, EverReady, Baxter, Jake, Ben.
Visitors: Trail Hoover, Muffalotta, Kneeling Room Only (KNO).
Virgin: Just Alex.
Commemorating:  Absolutely nothing (unless you would like to celebrate the famous Swaziland "Reed Dance Day").



The Run

The mystique and romance of Burrillville, RI has drawn hashers to its charms relentlessly, inexplicably and improbably for many years. There is archaeological evidence that the first hashers of the world, the Neanderthalic Fugawi Tribe, originally settled and began hashing in this locale using sloth vertebrae for marks and wooly-mammoth pelvises for check marks. Small wonder then that the hare's invitation to come to an event in the northwestern corner of this paradise-on-earth should result in what was the best attended RIH3 hash since the first famous Bondo Jovi "Forget-the-run-let's-sit-around-and-drink-beer Hash" of 1986.  Despite being hard beset by jobs, traffic, spouses, and confused sexual orientation, the RIH3 nevertheless arrived. On time. In large numbers. Accompanied by visitors! And virgin(s)!

First to arrive at the Buck Hill Fire Tower at 6:15 was Dr WHO, who needs the extra time as he has large bone-structure making it difficult to change clothes in a Japanese car. The hare and Hopeless, arriving in the hare's vehicle soon joined him.  Hopeless, an involuntary backslider, had at last been released from home confinement when his wife was unexpectedly able to arrange a secret tryst with a recently unemployed mayor. She shooed him out of the house saying: "Now, go and have a nice hash, dear. And don't worry about coming home too soon. I'll just be waxing the floors." Next came Bondo Jovi. True to form, he parked and got out his bicycle and a beer. He then threw a few dozen milk-bones in the middle of the road to see if he could create havoc or at least knock off one of his dogs. As always, Jake and Ben were smarter than Bondo.

Basket, Snotty and Short Peck then pulled up, followed by Oozing, Trail Hoover and the virgin Just Alex. Parking was at a premium as 6:30 arrived. The hare had been told that EverReady was planning to come. [Note how easily your scribe can resist the cheap shot.] No one wanted to listen to more complaining about being left behind just because she was 30 minutes late, so they waited. Surprisingly, she pulled in relatively promptly with Kneeling Room Only (KNO) and Muffalotta. What a crowd! It looked something like a gathering of aging groupies for the Olivia Newton John "Let's Get Physical" Reunion Tour. Or perhaps a large bunch of rejects from the French Foreign Legion recruiting drive. But I digress. A passing census taker took note of the large group, and stopped anxiously to determine if Burrillville would need a new zip code. Finally, even WIPOS arrived and all were even willing to wait for him to adjust his warm weather survival gear (hermetically sealed "capri" pants) before starting.

Instructions were given, and they were off. The trail began a few hundred yards east on Buck Hill Road and turned north on the famous Rhode Island North South Trail(!). Skirting the western slopes of Badger Hill, the terrain was pleasant and gentle, well marked and free from poison ivy and vermin. Pathetic! A few checks led off the North South Trail(!) into some light shrubbery, only to return to the trail a few yards up. The Snotly One was heard to comment that this trail reminded him of the vicious jungle-shiggy of the Far East. Clearly he has been spending too much time amidst the manicured fields and stiled fences of the orderly English countryside. His memories of Rhode Island hashing have been distorted by the warm rosy glow that always comes when you hash a full ocean away from Glendale.

A check led east into the remnant of Cold Stream Brook. The pernicious effects of the drought were again noted, as the leaders Basket, Oozing, WHO and Trail Hoover crossed the rocky but dry river looking for flour. The rest continued north on what appeared to be… the North South Trail(!). An arrow pointed to a near vertical glacial boulder, and the leaders now Short Peck, Basket and Hopeless began to climb while Oozing and Dr WHO, seeing that the trail skirted the east side of the rock, continued on the North South Trail(!) and took the lead. The theme was becoming clear: when you see an arrow, do the opposite. And follow the North South Trail(!). Basketand Hopeless now shared the lead, continuing north and slightly west. Meanwhile, Dr WHO, Oozing, Trail Hoover, Short Peck, Just Alex and Muffalotta made up the middle pack. Muffalotta dropped back, probably because there is little more unnerving than the crashing, grunting, gasping and thudding sounds one hears when being followed by Dr WHO. They came to the Benson Mountain Trail (a road) and turned west briefly, then turned back north on the North South Trail(!). The hind parts of the group were sticking with the hare who was carrying flour to mark the checks. The [end-results of the] hind parts of Baxter were sticking to Short Peck's shoes, a different style of marking. Snotty continued to comment on the rugged nature of the hash and inquired about the origin of the smell.

Your scribe did not see Bondo on trail. When finally he turned up as described below, he was not forthcoming in details of his adventures. Nevertheless, Bondo's recent history allows an educated guess. With the first check mark leading into shiggy, Bondo probably followed trail, fell off his bike into some bushes and had a flat. Back up on the North South Trail(!) he was going good until he fell off his bike into some bushes and had another flat. Profanities were inevitably heard on the North South Trail(!). He realized that the obvious beer check was at the Tri-State Marker found at the northern terminus of the North South Trail(!) so he got back up, and ignored the flour. On his way northeast (on the North South Trail(!)), he undoubtedly had a flat, and then fell off his bike into some bushes. But we will never know.

Hopeless and Basket, now followed by Dr WHO, came to a check. Basket, thinking like Bondo, (now there's an image for you!) continued on the North South Trail(!) while Hopeless and WHO turned east, seeing flashes of Wallum Lake through the trees to the north. A little-used path along the ridge above the shore was the true trail. Ben accompanied the two and made valiant efforts to trip them both up as they ran. A "BN" was found, confusing Hopeless for a while as he naively thought this mark meant that there was actually beer near. Finally they came to the "B" and began searching, soon joined by Oozing and Just Alex. The beer was found and they moved into the lake to cool down, while the rest straggled in. As they cooled in the water, a slick of sweat, bug repellant and God knows what else widened around them. And Pascoag thought they had problems with their water before this!

They sat and chatted, drinking and waiting for the last few still missing: EverReady, KNO, and Bondo. Picturing the fate of the Grand Mattress with this duo, some grew concerned. A search party was considered. Horns were sounded and whistles blown, frightening several fishermen and causing a wake-boarder to fall into a rock. The noise carried across a small bay, and the muscular orderlies from the psych wing at Zambarano Hospital began taking an anxious inventory of their criminally psychotic patients to see if one was on the loose. KNO arrived, and said he had no idea where the Beaver might be. Just as Async and he started back to search the North South Trail(!), EverReady arrived. She apparently had been following bicycle tire tracks, crushed bushes and discarded inner-tubes until she finally realized she hadn't seen flour for a while and made her way back. But what of Bondo?!!  Could he be lost? Or even hurt?! No one seemed to care, so the group headed for the next stage.

East and then south they ran and walked until they came to the Benson Mountain Road again. Hopeless and Short Peck turned east with the cooler of beer from the lake. They were followed by most, feeling that a sure thing shouldn't be risked for the possibility of more beer at an uncertain On In. But the virgin Just Alex turned west on the road, and found beer at the circle a few hundred yards away. The hare shepherded the rest to the clearing and the circle was joined when the native bearers returned from Hopeless' truck.

Hare in the circle. The ratings were proffered. The hare had not provided true shiggy. The hare had not been blessed with hashing weather. The hare had resorted to the North South Trail(!). But then, there were three bimbos! Bondo got lost! There was a swimming stop! Overall rating: 69!  The hare was punished, made a poor excuse for singing, and the ceremony moved on. Only to be disrupted by the arrival of the missing Bondo. His pathetic excuses and whining were too much for most, and a recall of votes was demanded. Scores were revised and the hare was lucky to come away with a + 0.69.

Next: Visitors. After a brief legal discussion about the distinctions between visitors, renegades, and backsliders, the visitors were determined to be Trail Hoover, Muffalotta, and KNO. They did a down down, and might have sung, but your scribe doubts it. All that your scribe could see was Muffalotta's ring (and that was fine) followed by the spontaneous, redundant, and unnecessary exposure to Basket's same (which was not). Somehow, this led to the singing of the dread Panzerlied. Most had assumed that this particular phase of Basket's had long since ended. But it was not to end here. The virgin was next and was asked the three questions at which he completely failed (excellent hash material). He was told to sing and thinking by example that this was expected of him, he started another Nazi Anthem. The angry crowd soon drowned him out. Finally hashit was discussed. Who but Bondo could be nominated? He was punished but it was pointed out that there was a Hashit-For-Life, and Basket was back in the circle. Enough was enough, though. "Swinging Low" ended the solemn ceremony. They carpooled back to the fire tower in Hopeless' truck, careening wildly through the now darkened roads.

The On On On was at George's Pizza in the village of Pascoag. All attended, which caused quite a stir in this establishment which heretofore had never served more than four or five (not including farm animals) at once. They were also much bemused by WIPOS' special order pizza. He crafted this in his mind, imagining a savory yet lactose- and sauce-free vegetable pizza. What came out was a cardboard-like agglutination of starches and wilted greens that even Async and the dogs wouldn't touch. But there was beer. There were soggy napkin missiles. There was scintillating conversation. [Note: your scribe for once was located sufficiently far from both Basket and Bondo that he may be speaking for himself on this one.] A fine evening was had by all (although some of the group may yet be circling Burrillville trying to find their way out, as to an impartial observer, it appeared that the roads had been rearranged during the course of the hash and whichever turn was taken seemed to lead back to the North South Trail(!)).

On On

The Slasher Dr W.H.O.