RIH3 Vagina Monologue

 
Run: #848 July 29, 2002

Vagina Monologue

Thursday July 25, Ever Ready Eager Beaver looks at her calendar and say’s “Christ, I’m hare next week, and I’ve got my period.” She calls all her girlfriends to see if any of them want to cover her cute arse on the 29^th.

‘Ring, Ring, Ring’, “Hello, this is Shine On, leave a message after the beep. I’m away at Home Depot at a glazing class and will call you as soon as I get this shit off my fingernails.” Click!

‘Ring, ring, ring’, “Hello, this is Stuff Me, I’m looking for a replacement for Basket. I just found out he’s married, and I need to find someone unattached as macho as he is to fill my void. Leave a message if you’re cute, rich and hung like a bull.” Click!

‘Ring, ring, ring’, “Hello, this is Just Valerie, if you are Basket , I’ll be home at 9, otherwise, leave a message and I’ll try to fit you into my schedule.”

‘Ring, ring, ring’, “Hello, this is Just My Size, if this is Basket , call me on my cell phone, otherwise, bugger off.

‘Ring, ring, ring’, “Hello, this is Cums Alone. Nobody else calls me on this phone but Basket, so, leave me alone, you huge bastard. I can’t get anything going with anyone else after you, Big Boy. I need it regular, and you’re not available. Have a great life.”

‘Ring, ring, ring’, “Hello, this is Muffalotto, if there’s any chance you know Basket and need a co-hare, leave me a message. I’m currently dancing a my way through South Station, but would love to take Monday afternoon off to see him, again.” “Ya, Hi! This is Ever Ready. I’m down on the Cape working on my tan, but I’ve opened my mouth, for no good reason, and said I’d be hare in Rhode Island this Monday. Any chance that you could help me out? You were my first choice after I realized I’ve over committed, and Basket said you had a pretty good looking koochie.”

The scene was set, for the Bimbo Hash of the year, by the Mistresses of the New England Hashes from the Rockwell School of Naughty Boys and Girls in Bristol, RI…

The Hare’s:

in order of length of Pubic Patch from bald to shaggy…

Muffalatto, electrolysis, baby’s butt smooth, with touch of whipped cream and cherries, song.
Deep Throat, short and spiky, but smooth to the touch, springy with warm peach aroma.
Summers Eve Seven Year Bitch, neatly trimmed close to bikini line, lightly scented vinegar with spice.
Ever Ready Soccer Mom Smelly Beaver 9, tight to the skin, almost grizzly, 5 o’clock shadow with smell of mint.
Muffalatto, (two weeks after electrolysis), shaggy but soft, already well below the panty crease, kinky curls with a touch of nutmeg and soft lavender.

The Hounds:

difficult to remember, but I’ll try…

Mostly remember:

Basket Boom Boom (for obvious reasons),
WIPOS stick in hand, but not the only thing with these ladies around.
Oozing Syph was not there, but hashing in Henfield, sorry lot.
Bondo Jovi also not there, because he couldn’t fix a keyhole.
Slasher Dr. Who also not there, because his wife had him on the cape minding the daughters, while she sunbathed at Falmouth’s Famous Flaming Flamingo’s Nude Beach for Neglected Doctor’s Wives.
KNO (a.k.a. Kneeling Room Only - don’t ask, it’s stupid) MIA causing ERSMSB9 to strut her stuff and get rug burns in the mens room at Tinkers Nest.
Just Pete (a.k.a. Humper Heffin) another stupid joke on somebody who needs to practice his dart hold, it’s not like peeing yaknow.
Claytaurus (OCH3) Hashit of Orange County, ex-Rhode Islander, two-timer, loves visiting dad.
Every Day Is Wednesday Hasher visiting from DC (cute tattoos and really impressed with Baxter’s tongue).
Just Mom (a.k.a.: Linda, Who’s your daddy, Doggy Style YeeeHaaa Baby), EDIW’s Mom frisky and ready for a good time, but left disappointed after daughter grabbed Baxter first.
Just Jared, EDIW’s Brother lanky and eagerly embarrassed mom with fraternity drinking song about all the girlies being little red foxes, and he was a hunter shooting their boxes, or something like that and she turned red and just smiled.
Just Nick, Visitor from Newport he smiled a lot, especially when Muffalatto dropped her shorts and walked into the water in white panties that turned shear when wet.
Stone Age Erection (NH3) dropped his bowling ball last week, sent it out for repair, and needed something to drink about.
There were others, I know, but stupid is as stupid does and now I’m trying to remember 2 weeks latter, Dah.

 
On to the trail….

The trail was mysteriously close to Deep Throat’s parent’s house, but she never invited us in. She sort of steered us off in an opposite direction after we noticed all the nurse uniforms on the clothesline behind the modest, but neatly groomed cottage with the 8-foot satellite dish in the tiny back yard. They had sent daughter off to nursing school, that left just enough money for beer, chips and salsa, and the dish to watch reruns of the best home video show.

The mystery hare led us all down a primrose path to Brer Rabbit’s Briar Patch, with comments like, “What’s the matter? Are you scared of a little shiggy?” The flour led us over some downed trees and into bull briar 6 feet high. The pack searched in several directions until one of the virgins found it off to the left. Much flesh was left behind, as we all clawed our way back over the trees and across smelly flats of doggie poopoo.

We made our way out to the street, and found true trail heading left and into another crop of Bristol Bull Briars.

They’re famous in these parts for keeping down the pigeon and seagull population, holding back the rats and hashers, but mostly for the smell of rotting flesh overcoming the low tide air pollution.

Eventually, we made our way out to Colt State Park, famous for its Portuguese Soup. During sunny August days, more imports can be found splashing in the waters off Colt State, then along the Mediterranean, on a hot summer's day.  This causes the DEM to close beaches nearby, because of kielbasa odor and a grease slick upon the out going tide.

Baxter’s tongue was dragging dangerously close to the clamshell beach, that I decided to find cool water to quench his thirst. We abandoned trail and made our way to the ladies room, where finding it empty, Baxter casts open the door and tried to empty the bowl. Satisfying his needs, he stepped aside and let Basket sniff a seat or two before the two of them continued on trail along water’s edge.

Beer was eventually found beside a closed park and long pier. Guinness was proudly served along with some really cheap piss to satisfy the BH3 and NH3’ers. A floating oasis was drifting in the distance, and Basket, Muff, and Summer’s Eve Seven Year Bitch swam out to it for a respite from the hard trail. Baxter followed his trusty friends and looked a bit like a large wet rat swimming in a sewer. Rather then let him tread water for an hour, Basket pulled him aboard. Pop! Went his ribs, and he asked for assistance from his scantly clad companions. Everyone on shore was thinking what a lucky bastard he was, but the pair was so bad he almost missed spotting the small hole in Muff’s panties, exactly at the clitoral area. I’m sure this was from constant self-abuse. How convenient!

Beer finished, we swam back to the remaining pack, which were in awe at the setting sun reflecting between SESYB’s legs. I’m sure they were looking at that sun, and as the sun set, the sound of blues hitting the bait fish just in front of us, kept rhythm as few songs were sung. The last beer was finished, and we set out on the remaining trail.

The trail in was almost a snore, except for the unruly neighbor. “Don’t you know that’s private property?”, says he. “Is this your private property?”, says I. “No”, says he, “but that doesn’t change anything. It’s still private and you are disturbing the peace and quiet of our snooty neighborhood.” “Well”, says I, explaining about what we’re up to, “the hare’s mom and dad live just around the corner. This property belongs to her old baby sitter, and I’m sure she spoke to her before sending us all along you fence.” “Okay,” says he, “ I didn’t know. Have a nice evening.”

Just then Baxter turns into Cujo, and is gnawing at the bit to climb over the fence and take a piece out this old man. “Sorry,” says I, and off we go.

The circle was formed in the children’s play area, at the Rockwell Naughty Boys and Girls School. The school is famous because they don’t have any naught boys or girls in Barrington, because they ship them south to Warren and after being picked up for panhandling, they’re all sent down here to Bristol. It was this reason Deep Throat’s parents moved close to their darling daughter after she kept pulling down her panties to show the boys her booboo.

Down-downs were given to the hares, who attempted singing, but because all were blond or bald, decided to just show rings, not that I’m complaining mind you. Basket once again retained Hashit for life and drank for his efforts. Visitors and virgins alike all suffered the same fate, and special song was sung for the Every Day is Wednesday Hash mom.

We then sojourned over to the Tinker's Nest, where we soiled the OCH flag, first in the lady’s then in the men’s room toilet. Pictures were taken, and the locals had a sight wondering what we were up to. We then had a number of beers and assorted pizza, and finally made our way home. The girls however made it a postage stamp night, lots of licking. I understand they all a good time, in the now famous home of our own Barrington Soccer Mom, doing naked twister till the wee morning hours. Videos will be available soon.

All in all, it was a sucksessful night. We’ll have to do it again sometime soon. How about 30 days from now?

On On!

Basket "In his dreams!" Boom Boom