Dead Man's Balls Hash

Run #942, May 3, 2004

Hare: Fuwangi Boner

Location: Blackstone Bikeway, Lincoln

Weather: Low 50’s, Raining

Present: The Slasher Dr WHO, Tinker, WIPOS, Basket Boom Boom, Seamus.

The Run:

There was limited attendance again for the RIH3, despite ideal weather and near-virgin territory. And the rain had been hard enough to guarantee that the hare would have to reset (as indeed he did), leaving to lay more flour at 6:15. He left Dr WHO with a chili beer, and putting this fiery brew down with Tinker and WIPOS gave the hare more than enough head start.

Trail led from the bikeway parking lot on the bikeway northwest. It immediately diverged and crossed down to the banks of the Blackstone. A falsie along the canal towpath led WHO and WIPOS to a dead end. Basket chose to go up the hill along the river, and Tinker followed. There were three parallel trails at varying height on the sides of the ridge, and it was apparent that it didn’t much matter which one you were on (except that the lowest was flooded in places, and was avoided). Basket and Seamus led, and were first to cross under the Rt 295 bridge, followed at differing levels by WHO, then Tinker and WIPOS. Some had waterfalls to ease their way. Some did not.

Trail now meandered west, uphill, then down, following 295. There were many choices, but the true trail was actually well marked.  WHO led, following flour without difficulty. Basket chose this moment as usual, to strike out on his own. He keeps doing this. It must have worked for him once. But not in your scribe’s experience. As usual, he became lost.

WHO followed the marks carefully, and eventually came through a swampy area, crossing a downed fence to the first BC, at the abandoned rest stop on the southbound side of 295. He found the hare and a growler of IPA. Tinker and WIPOS showed up. While drinking and waiting for Basket, the wind shifted and the unmistakable odor of decomposing flesh wafted from one of the abandoned buildings. While adding to the flavor of the evening, it did not improve the flavor of the beer. It was felt that this probably came from an animal trapped in the building, but it was not worth investigating more closely. But when Basket finally appeared, he made the rounds looking for the source. Apparently, he is not only blind, but has an impaired sense of smell. Luckily, nothing was found. [This is an interesting problem in hash responsibilities. What if there had been a body? Does one ignore the whole thing? Does one phone in an incidentally discovered corpse anonymously? Or does one try to explain to a youthful police officer what exactly four older men, one younger man, and a large, shaven St. Bernard were doing, trespassing in an abandoned rest stop, in the rain, drinking beer on a Monday night?]

At any rate, the trail continued, west and north onto a residential street, Timberland Drive to Kirkbrae, and then up and out to Old River Road, where it turned southeast and crossed back over 295. The Lincoln High School fields were reached, and trail led to the cross-country trails headed east. Numerous balls were found, of all types. Tinker began collecting, and managed to accumulate a golf ball, a tennis ball, a softball, a baseball, and a field hockey ball. If not more! Trail led through the leaf and grass dump for the schools, through some skunk cabbage and finally to a slightly swampy area. The hare was found waiting, now out of flour. He led from this point. Basket became fascinated by a rock, and fell behind.

The second beer check was a mirror image of the first. This was the northbound abandoned rest stop. There was again a growler of IPA. There was again an odor of decomposing flesh. Basket was again missing. At least this time, they had some balls! Basket finally puffed and huffed in, mud covered and unrepentant. He produced some absurd story about finding the perfect rock for his fountain in Glendale. He rolled it up the hill with all sorts of difficulty and left it by the highway. Right! Having had enough beer and enough decomposing flesh for one evening, the BC was cut short. They headed back out, skirting a swampy area and rejoining the bikeway near its turn-around point.

Just before reaching the cars, they stopped to circle up. Ratings for the run were outstanding: rain, dead bodies everywhere, two beer checks, no Bondo, lots of balls, etc. etc. Total: 6.9! Hashit: is there any question? Then, Tinker gave away his balls, and they had religion. They came to the cars and regrouped at Tuck’s. Another fine evening for the RIH3. Could there BE any better enticement for a prospective hasher than this tale? Your scribe is sure that once this write-up makes the internet, we will be inundated with virgins. To make sure it shows up on Google searches: SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX  SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX  SEX SEX SEX

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