Arcadia Sex Toy Hash

 
Run: #847 July 22, 2002

Hare: Oozing
Location: Arcadia
Scribe: Trail Hoover BH3
Weather: Sunny, 80's, a little humid
Present: Oozing (Hare), Trail Hoover (Cute), Basket boom boom (Debonair), Bondo Jovi (Biker Babe), WIPOS (Over-protected), Tinkerbell (Hippy), Jake, Ben & Baxter (3 Amegos)
Visitors: Claytaurus (OCH3, good sport)
Virgin: None, oh except Oozing
Commemorating: Trickery, trees, and tie-dye

While "leaders" in the U.S. overexert themselves searching for The Osama One far and wide, RIH3 keeps its nasty little secret to itself that he is alive and well, posing as a RIH3 hare in the hills of RI, running about with bags of opium or anthrax or whatever, dropping on the ground for all to see, except for hashers who couldn't find the damn trail just the same.

This evening's trail began somewhere in Arcadia, abreast of a dwindling but pleasant stream and lots of big rocks. Oozing was fashioned up in his desert-like mosquito net hat, of which WIPOS admired deeply, as well as a fancy new tie-dye shirt from the CCH3 hash, which brought the whole group of aging men back a few decades to the good old days. Bondo arrived early and released the dogs, stirring up the dirt around Trail Hoover and our visitor from the Orange County Hash, Claytaurus. She was looking for Async, for she had his sex toy, a large flag she stole from OCH3. But he was nowhere to be found, something about a bad back or canoe building or something. Come to think of it, a lot of people were among the missing...Eveready Beaver and KNO were MIA, Dr. WHO was getting sunburned with his daughters in Mashpee (daughters, ya sure), Hopeless is still hopelessly in hiding, and Snotty went over the pond for good, still bitching and moaning about all the rocks and foliage America has yet to pave over and turn into curry houses.

And so, the mighty hash of 4 began alongside the aforementioned stream, bounding along the rocks and mossy trail, two bimbos leading the way. It was a blissful sight, until the hares came upon andunknown marking, possibly in Urdu..."CB". "Such marks haven't been seen since 1892" I heard someone mutter. "MOX, that ain't no stinkin' Rhode Isylan' MOX!"Bondo exclaimed. The CB, (Check Back, or Curried Bastard ?) lead the small pack back to the cars, with the recent arrival Basket Boom Boom, smiling broadly having missed the evil spurn trail due to his lateness. The pack was now a full count of 5, and the hare led us up a sandy Afghan-type hill to a check and another "CB".

At this point, Trail Hoover was fed up, began walking up a hill, and STILL missed the mark leading the pack into the woods to the right. Finally the trail began looking more like a typically shitty RI trail, with much underbrush, mud holes, poison ivy, mossy logs and such. The visitor was taken aback by such foliage having been running in the desert far too long, a tear was shed. Basket decided to forge his own way blowing a check, and possibly himself, ending up 2 miles off and resorting to asking a native where in Tarnation he was. Trail Hoover led the way after pleading with the Evil One as to where the trail went at a particularly perplexing check. Dictaphone obliged mercifully after a sexual favor, and off went the massive pack of 3 hounds bounding down the trail that would take them through much mud, circle jerks, back tracking and lovely virgin trail to the Beer Check.

Basket and his bugle was no where to be found at the lovely, swampy, insect infested pile of logs where the beer was hidden. Bondo, where the hell was Bondo? Last we heard he took off on his 2 wheeled machine heading for freedom in the other direction. The stagnant swamp by the beer check pleaded with me to swim in its musky waters, but I was able to tear myself away from thoughts of swimming naked to continue on down the trail with the Claytaurus, WIPOS and the Hippie to the start, the same trail we came in on and lost Basket.

To our surprise, Tinker and his new fangled hip and crutches were at the beginning to greet us (crutches are something of a luxury in Afghanistan the dark-skinned foreigner hare told us). Basket and the dogs magically appeared down a CB trail, almost happy to see us having been lost for so long with 3 dogs. Bondo somehow made his way to the start as well, actually I'm not sure he ever left, and so the singing began with Tinker in the lead, and not just any songs, but non-German songs!!! Claytarus brought out Async's sex toy (which was promptly hidden for some time up Tinker's ass) and the hare was made to drink for such abusive behavior as making Curry Bastard "MOX", and setting trail after we had already passed the checks. The Hashit was almost relinquished to the visitor for some unknown reason, but Basket was most rewarding of the socko'shit, since he didn't even make it to the beer check. Ben, the alcoholic that he is, whined like his owner for beer and got little the entire circle, as did his owner. All in all, a -0.69 was given for the shitty trail, and WIPOS was left at the scene changing into various layers of sub-zero degree tested undergarments.

The group convened at Mike's, a funny little dive located in strip mall, Rhode Island style. The food was fine and the beer wasn't bad either. Classic 70's rock blared from the speakers, and even Oozing attempts to silence the stuff with his evil chants and Muslim call to prayer were squashed by Tinker and Trail Hoover's rendition of The Mamas & the Papas cover of Neil Diamond covering Purple Haze. Basket, Oozing, WIPOS and Claytaurus could only stare in awe and wonderment, was it the hippie tie-dye shirt that brought this on?

In the parking lot, Async's sex toy, having been recovered from Tinker's ass, was gracefully given to Basket for a signing, never to be seen by OCH3 again. The visitor semi-promised to be at next week's run to retrieve the flag...we shall see, we shall see.

Note: RIH3 has been trying to name Trail Hoover a RIH name, punishment for her showing up almost every week for 4 weeks. I do recall the name, "Summer's Eve", or was is "Summer's Ease"? Maybe this will get ironed out at the next hash.

On On,

Trail Hoover