The Swamp Seeker AKA PW was last to join Bondo, Async, Trail Hover, Oozing Syph, Basket, and all the hounds Jake, Ben, Baxter, and Zoë. As we listened to Dr. WHO explain how he was a little disappointed in the lack of rain, to feed the shiggy pits, we thought to ourselves, “excuses already; this run would certainly be in the shits”.

We had expected the trail to follow previous laid WHO trails out behind the Monastery, following manicured roads out where the Medieval Village once stood. Here is where the actors of the Cumberland Troupe would joust and make merry (men) in years past, but now it’s just abandoned fields, where occasionally our Hash fills the fields, with the sounds of hash music . But the Dr.WHO had more than a little poison ivy up his sleeve, and after being on trail for just a few moments; we traversed a small hill and crossed behind a private back yard.

We lost Async at the “Do Not Enter” sign, and follow out crossing the road like a flock of Red Cock (chickens). Why do you ask, “Did the chickens cross the road?” Well because they only had half a brain, and beer was on the other side, silly.

We followed trail down a couple streets, meandering through a quiet suburb in Cumberland, and finding a trail gate closed, we passed through into virgin ground. Holier than Monastery property, because there is so very little virgin anything left in Rhode Island, we followed flour to a check. Here the pack split up. Oozing and Trail went left, Basket, Baxter and Jake went right, and Bondo, on his bike, was nowhere to be found. Swamp Seeker and Zoë had long since been out of sight.   Async was on his cell phone calling DogMeat, letting her know that he had ditched the old man for a while.

It was more than a little humid and the hounds' tongues were hanging nearly down to the ground, Baxter and Jake’s were also, but didn’t complain as much as Basket and Oozing. Of course Oozing was following the cute behind of Trail, complete with a wet T, thanks to Bondo, and things started to really heat up. The WHO tried to call the pack together, but once Basket got his nose moving in one direction, it would take more than a first mate’s whistle to call him back. He was on the high ground and would never give that up.

Moments later, he was reconsidering going back to where the main pack had gone of to the left, Baxter was draggin butt and Jake was all but on he stomach, but persistence pays off, and after being off trail for a mile, he found flour. Hope springs eternal. A junkyard off to the right gave hope for a pond or at least a water crossing nearby, as the temperature soared in the nineties, and we all felt like Junkyard Dogs.

Off in the distance, a lake shimmering past a rise in the old mountain road, was sighted, but it was a mirage. Heat rising, waves of temperature tempting the frail and too dry Basket.  Bondo traveling on bike overtook the small band of forlorn and finally they all came upon a high rock with a Beer Check at its base.

Basket quickly regained his composure and climbed the rock looking for beer, while Bondo sat at the bottom, playing switch. You know how to play don’t you? One thumb goes in you mouth and the other up you ass, then switch. Tastes like shit but can be fun to watch. Definitely a solo game, don’t ever try doing this with someone else.

Finally the late cuming FRBs arrived with the hare announcing that Basket was right on track again, and that the beer would be found at the top. It took the devious hare to locate the beer himself, as it was hidden with great enterprise.

Soon all were drinking, singing enjoying life, and nowhere in sight were Swamp Seeker and Zoë. Not that we didn’t want to see Zoë, because it’s always great to have another Bitch near, but SS PW is a bit of a challenge. After complaints of no shiggy, and lots of beer consumed, the pack made its way down the cliff face and back towards the cars.

The trail was well marked from here out, quite different from the trail in, and there was a pond, where Basket and Baxter cooled their steaming bodies at great length. Finally making it out to the local neighborhood, a lonely police car driving slowly by, watched closely at the pack. Trail Hoover had missed the mark and was traveling downhill against the direction of a wet, but happy Baxter and Basket, when she asked where the trail went. She said there were no marks traveling straight and she went right. Having enough G2 to check it out for himself, Basket found trail uphill and straight where the Bimbo hadn’t gone far enough. There’s a moral here, always go far enough with Basket, and you may not get what you want, but you’ll get what you need.  There’s a song there.

The merry band joined together at Gardner's and took the cooler of beer off into the woods for the Circle. Trail complaining of Poison Ivy, jumped on the back of macho B and was carried off into to woods. Now she’s learnin’ The circle was formed and the hare received his DD along with Biking Bitch Bondo, Oozing for Hashit and others too soon forgot. Basket was then given the Hashit for Life, because too many people have nothing better to do but vote for the least worthy. The pack then made their way to Friar Tuck’s for Food and Beer. Singing was a bit subdued, because it was a PG13 night, with children nearby. But fun was had by all, and as we High Ho’ed out for the evening, one child turned to his mother and commented, “What a bunch of hemorrhoids tonight at Tucks?

On On,

Basket