The Great Monsoon Hash of 2003

Run #893, May 26,  2003

Hare: Basket Boom Boom
Scribe: SESYB
Location: Slatersville Reservoir, North Smithfield
Weather: 50's, 30 MPH gusts, Heavens Were a Pourin'
Present: Basket Boom Boom, Oozing SD, SESYB, Bondo Jovi, Shine On Harvard Moon, Fuwangi Boner, Just Ian, Just Jean Paul, Virgin Steve, Muffolata, Friar F*ck, Cream Whora, More Seamen Please, Dogmeat, Short Peck, Jodie, Jake, Ben, Seamus.

The Great Bodhisattva once said, " When I want it to rain, I just tell God, 'let it rain!', you see...I have a direct connection with God himself." Well, maybe.

And so it rained, and rained...and rained, till it could rain no more, but then it did. And so a soggy pack of sorry looking hashers gathered in a puddle of a parking lot next to the Slatersville Reservoir to commemorate years of sunnier Memorial Day hashes, days in which the oven was used with abandon, in which electricity was rendered "a given", and the warmth of the sun was simply overlooked.

Basket Boom Boom, the hare, was wearing enough rain gear as to make WIPOS look naked. Upper thigh-high rubber wading boots, red shorts, some sort of rain jacket and head apparatus, and a small bag of flour in which to set the darn trail live since the heavens had broke open. Only a small patch of skin could be seen around his eyes and groin area. A caravan driven by the rain-maker himself, Bondo Jovi, also contained Shine On Harvard Moon, Oozing and SESYB. Just Jean Paul, running about in a red poncho, looking much like little red riding hood, and Virgin Steve, sounding a lot like Snotty to some, jumped about into a few puddles and joined the crowd. Fuwangi Boner drove up in his bed-on-wheels, only to park directly into the smaller Slatersville Reservoir forming in the parking lot. Just Ian almost busted a tire rounding into the lot at the nick of 6:30 as not to miss the start. With no BH3ers or Newporters in site and many RIH3er MIA with sorry excuses for their absence, the pack whimpered off on trail after giving the hare 10 minutes to go get himself lost. Short Peck was also seen milling around the lot, although he was no where to be found on trail.

Off they went, following high wires and busting through private property with abandon, since no one in their right half-mind would be out with their sharp shooters protecting their property in such weather. Earlier threats of swim tests and boating maneuvers proved to be nothing but talk, as the trail followed mainly recycled territory on paths and some bushwhacking through the woods. There were a few exciting moments of washed out bridges on trail, poison ivy non-maneuvers, but nothing really compared to the great dam debacle! A Beer Check mark was spotted on the pavement near a fence somewhere after they leapt from the shallow woods. Basket Boom Boom and Shine on were seen on the other side of a roaring and recklessly flowing river, underneath the bridge of the road above, smiling and holding the beer containers with malicious glee. Oozing, Just Jean Paul and Virgin Steve were the first of many hashers to wade through the whirling waters to beer and safety on the other side. Fuwangi and SESYB soon followed with somewhat sketchy agility. Basket tried to point out the bridge ("bridge, what bridge?") above their heads, but that would have required actual brain power and avoidance of the most thrilling part of the trail! The Bodhisavah, unable to tap into his Direct Link to the Powers That Be, did not try and stop the river from rushing, claiming he "forgot" about his powers. Instead he used his mortal limbs to cross, almost becoming a cast away. Just Ian was the only one to heed the warnings of the hare (or maybe the only smart one) and took the bridge to safety. Beer was had, and the dogs smacked sticks into the backs of people's legs per usual.

Lead by Fuwangi, off they went more wet than before (if that was possible), through shallow woods, neighborhoods and on back to Basket's house. A tarp was set up outside as to keep people "dry" in the circle. The electricity had been extinguished while the hash was floating about the trail. The Great Bodhisattva, who must have got a busy signal while Direct Dialing into the Pearly Gate's Main Line, left the hash without lights, oven, the microwave and the like. A roaring fire was made BY HAND in the fireplace for all to warm their private parts and the gas grill outside was a-cookin'. The toilet was not to be flushed due to the Narragansett Electric mishap, so everyone either held it, or went in Basket's pool.

The circle was joined by *gasp* four BH3 late comers, Friar F*ck, Muffolata, (both were a 1/2 hour late coming from Newport in the rain), Cream Whora (dressed in sheep gear as to make a Scottish lad weep) and More Seamen Please. Dogmeat and SESYB remained in the darkened kitchen for most of the circle to prepare food by candlelight over a open hearth, bare feet and pregnant. Virgin Steve (he hashed in England, but we don't really give a

damn) was dementressed by Shine On and had some difficulty drinking his down-down (how un-English like!). The Visitors sang "Singing in the Rain" as their song of choice. The hare gave his hash*t to Bondo, who was out with Short Peck looking for Just Ian, who the pack suddenly realized went missing on trail. Just Ian also left his keys in his car, so not only was he lost in the Monsoon of 2003 and almost forgotten by the fellow hashers, but he also had Bondo as his rescue squad!! Hoping that The Great Bodhisattva would find his All Knowing Affiliation Card to the Enlightened Club, hash religion was sung, much food was eaten (Ambrosia Salad!) and bras were cast off. Eventually Bondo, Short Peck, Just Ian, and the electricity came back just in time to see the Red Sox beat the Yankees in the Bronx. So there is a God!

P.S. Oh ya, Bondo and Just Ian went missing for another 1 hour or more after we ate and watched tv. Bondo sailed Just Ian back to the newly formed Slatersville Reservoir Yacht Club and tried to slim-jim open Just Ian's car to no avail. SO, the Non-Enlightened one, having lost his Hookup to the Heavens, drove poor Ian all the way to Woonsocket, where Bondo made BY HAND his own Slim Jim in his garage (having lost his original tool) and drove back to Slatersville to opened the car door, now 1/2 way swallowed in the Great Lake of Slatersville. Names like "Bondo's Bitch" floated around the tv-stricken room with no stickiness, so Just Ian remains nameless for now. So much for Just Ian being the "only smart one".

On On!

SESYB