Run #1521 A Birthday Boner

Chickless Boner, now there’s an unhappy name, hoped to change his status by laying, at least the Gypsies’ trail on his Birthday. CB gathered the pack at the north end of 5^th Av. off of California, a plutocrat’s paradise. Thanks to the “slow streets” program in SF, the approach is, um, interesting but our hare must have sold his soul dearly because there was plenty of parking. The Outbeer slid right into a space next to some rich bim who was surprised to see the likes of 5150 and Just Stacey dropping property values. She was less than thrilled when Dr. Kimble started dropping peanut shells on the sidewalk. It only got worse when Pied Piper tapped the keg of Lagunitas Hazy Wonder. When Dick Ass Mother Fucker rode up on his bike and started sweeping the shells into the gutter not only was she mollified but she hoped that DAMF’s good manners would spread to the rest of pack. When Six Tits A Week stopped choking back his laughter, he got serious and wondered where DAMF got the damn brush he used. DAMF shot back that he always has one handy, neatness is important. There was a two story house for sale and Cuming Mutha and On All 4’s asked about the price. Our now friendly neighborhood bim told them that four people have bought the place then backed out because it needs so much work on the inside. Oh well, books and covers.  Chickless noted that there would be a beer check at a local so bring cash and if anyone didn’t like the trail keep it to themself because he has a fragile ego plus, he hasn’t laid a trail in 8 years. DAMF was just doing a flyby since his leg is still kaput, but he found himself preaching from the Male Missal. As he preached yet another parking space became available as our neighborhood hanger on fled in horror. Feeling in a state of grace the pack set off in search of marks. Trail took all and sundry back up 5^th Ave.to a check of sorts on Lake St. that flummoxed the Lost Patrol but was eventually solved. Trail led down Arguello to West Pacific Ave. At Cherry St, a lot of cherries were popped thanks to our hare requiring the pack to get over a wall that required climbing. Happily, or not, he had provided an overturned plastic bucket for wall hoppers to stand on. While the LP debated the sanity of trying it, Tongueless, whose sanity is questionable at the best of times, stood on the bucket with his back to the wall and mantled into a sitting position then rolled onto his knees, stood up and stepped off the wall. After that the rest of the invalids followed suit. Fits In took great pleasure in dusting off T’s chalk covered butt, a little too much pleasure by the sound of her whacks. 5150 managed to make his bad hip worse and Just Stacey found that ski poles didn’t really help. The trail became an urban slog. Wash This Asshole switched into his favorite tour guide mode and provided a *running commentary on every business that was passed. Twinkle Dick was lucky not to trip he was so busy taking notes. As trail turned on to California with no pubs in sight, the LP became divided with Manhole deciding to find the pub or die trying. Closet Twitcher showed his faith by asking if he could have Manhole’s truck should the worst happen. For WTA it was simple math, he’d already paid for the piss at the start so why pay more. Adopt A Pussy and Backside Banger were just going to stop at the first pub they found with food. The rest of the pack was probably already either in the selected pub or back so back the small LP went. At the start the keg, the Cloak Of Invisibility, the Sacred Bucket et al were dragged through a break in the wall and set up. The Vitamin J was on the table and the Sacred Bucket filled with River Madness. The first of the pack to arrive was Cuming Mutha who OA4s recognized in the distance by his gait. By the time the hare arrived CM was more than happy read him chapter and verse on the flaws in his trail. King Of Bed Bugs pointed out that it wasn’t nice to make someone cry on their Birthday. Jack The Ripper laughed at that idea with this bunch. Cheese Turd arrived with a Cantor from a local synagogue in tow. Just Arik managed to pound enough piss and Bucket to keep his throat moist, although he did no singing. For some reason CT thought JA would be impressed with T’s encyclopedic knowledge of porn; CT certainly is. CT was disappointed when their conversation turned more to esoteric religious topics. Hand Pump was DFL and took care of the garbage except for the two-legged kind. Once he stopped crying our hare had a fine time. The rest of the pack had a fine time and never cried at all. Cheers.