Basket Swallows My Beatle Hash

Run #930  February 9, 2004

Hare: Basket Boom Boom

Scribe: Swallows My Pride

Location: Esmond Village, Smithfield

Weather: Mid-30’s, Clear

Present: Async, Oozing SD, SESYB, Dr WHO, WIPOS, Fuwangi Boner, Seamus.

Commemorating: The Beatles Invasion, 1964.

The Run:

I know, I know! I really, really wanted to hare. I even planned to have three mystery co-hares do all the work. But I have my patients to think about and all those guys I met yesterday at speed dating, as well as concerts and happy hours and things. I don’t have a minute for myself these days, what with every little thing. Anyways, since Basket was sweet enough to hare for me, the least I can do is write it up. He decided to set in Smithfield (probably because it’s named after me!) and really did a swell job. I feel fine. I of course, would have had a more organized theme, party favors, and numerous virgins along. I mean, 40 years to the day after Ed Sullivan hosted the Beatles, that’s worth a celebration! (By the way, who is this Ed Sullivan guy anyways? Was he like the Carson Daly of the 60’s?) But Basket does the best he can. Let it be.

The mighty wankers of the RIH3 gathered at a parking lot on the Farnum Pike in Esmond. Actually, it was more like a skating rink from the freeze-thaw cycles we have been having. I personally would have gone with an Ice Capades concept at this point, but whatever. At six-thirty, they were off. First up, a real teaser: in the woods for a minute, then across the Woonasquatucket River southeast onto the road. Tell me why? (There was going to be a lot of road on this one, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Kind of an “Abbey Road” theme, if you think about it. You guys are always complaining about road, but don’t shin splints count as shiggy?) I’ll cry instead.

Next up: a check mark that had WHO and Fuwangi heading into a factory area where a rude and irate security guard started after them saying “Stop what you’re doing! Get the F**k outtahere!”  What a wank! Doesn’t he know the hash has priority, even in Esmond? The hare had to calm him down. Meanwhile, Oozing and Async found trail climbing up an embankment of boulders east off the Farnum Pike. They finally got into the woods. About time, too, I say!  The magical mystery tour led north; and between the footprints and the flour, the poor hare couldn’t even lose WIPOS! I certainly would have done better. Not that I’m ungrateful or anything.  But you know, he could have marked trail with some sort of guitar-shaped marks or yellow submarines or some cutouts from a Beatles mag or something. Like a paperback writer.

Guess what? Do you want to know a secret? They ended up back on the road. Fenwood Road to be precise, leading up to Whipple Road and some playing fields. They were back in the woods briefly, and came to Georgiaville Pond. Now you could have had a nice skate here, maybe with a boom-box and some Beatles tunes. And Maxwell’s silver hammer, of course. I think we’d get a lot more virgins if we combined dancing with hashing. That’s it! Next time I hare, I’m throwing a sock-hop at the Beer Check! And it’ll be a Sadie Hawkins type also, you can bet. After all, I am the walrus.

Well, they turned around a bit back on roads and crossed the river on Stillwater Road. Most ran straight by it at first, but the Beer Check was to the left. Good work, hare! You fooled some of them for once! Not a second time. The beer was hidden behind a slum property that the hare owns in a cute little yard with a swing and frozen dog poop all over the place. They sang some Beatles songs, with words I can’t reprint here for decorum’s sake (although, being a medical professional, I do know most of them). But, hey, Jude! I don’t want to spoil the party. A few beers and a few anecdotes later, they realized that there was no one around who hadn’t heard these anecdotes before. It gets old after a while. They decided to head back, and found a brief circle of a trail through someone’s yard, curving back to Stillwater, uphill to an old RR grade that paralleled the Farnum Pike southeast back to the cars. Imagine.

They circled in the woods above the cars. The hare was yet again recipient of the hashes beneficence and because he stepped up to the plate for me, AND with no Bondo, AND with lots of ice, he was given a 0.69 total. Hashit was given in turn to everyone. (Although no one thought to give it to me who really deserved it, tee-hee! But I’ll be back.) It ended up with Dr WHO, as seems to be the new trend. Help! Apparently, when he thought the proceedings were over, he made a suggestion. It wasn’t a bad thought really, to limit the membership of the RIH3 to 150 hashers. But I mean when the weather gets good, we’re gonna take off, I just know it. But he should have known better, and waited for the On On On. Which by the way, was back at Swampy’s. Still no pickled eggs, but a fine collection of Beatles and 60’s tunes on the jukebox. A great time was had by all, and next time I’m hare it’ll be even better. I might even get Bondo, that wanker, to be my cohare! It’s been a hard day’s night, so:

 

On On

Swallows My Pride