Run #428 Punishment Finds a Glutton
And
Dickless Namehole cried out to the Hashing Gods
“Please, don’t let me fuck up again.” And the Hashing Gods
laughed. Need we say more? Oh well, all right. Last Thursday Dickless
Namehole called the pack together at Gas House Cove in yet
another effort to prove that the frontal lobotomy did not preclude
him from setting a viable trail. The current debate centers on
whether Dickless is the Gypsies’ answer to Job or
just Larry, Moe, and Curly rolled into one huge stooge. Suffice it to
say his latest effort did nothing to settle the debate. With a
Dickless trail to look forward to the pack was sorely in need
of religion. Celeste, Semenhole’s new squeeze,
tenderly ministered to the pack. In one of his increasingly “senior
moments” T/BC left the Sacred Missal at home
and our low priestess was forced to read from the back up bible known
colloquially as Bambi Gets a Boner. By the time Celeste
finished Semenhole had joined Bambi. On the other hand I R
Stupid, living up to his name, was still trying to figure out
what happened to the deer. Spiritually cleansed the rest of the pack
was ready to be on-on. Happily the hare, claiming the trail to be
live was not there to see the next installment. True to history the
pack missed his first mark cleverly dropped into the grass. When
on-on was finally called the pack stayed together for more than a
second, a new Dickless record. Trail moved down Marina Blvd.
and at the first check turned the pack into the Marina where they
could lose Dickless’ trail and end up following an old Whine
&. Chowder death march route. Those who missed the first check
found the second check at Marina and Doyle drive where they
eventually found trail leading to the Palace of Fine Arts and a beer
check personed (see how PC we are) by Nutless Sac and
Just Carolynn. Being somewhat farther along the learning curve
than your average amoebae Nutless has finally learned to leave
the cooler back at the start, so FRBs, SCBs, and general wankers
would have it. So much for those who insist he shares DNA with I R
S. On the other hand neither of the checkers had the slightest
idea where trail went and when the sad sack pack finally found a few
marks they led back to the beer check. Newboot, Just George
remained calm until the beer was gone then he broke into uncontrolled
weeping over being lost and still thirsty. Pet da Cooter
cradled his had on her breast and that seemed to calm him. Exchanging
glances Shaggy Dog and Bitch In Heat
began wailing (sometimes even small minds think alike). Sad to say
there just weren’t enough breasts to go around. The wily Whippet
In and Whippet Out finally found trail that was
followed for a time by T/BC and Fits In. The combination of Fits
In’s wiser head and her threat to withhold sexual favors
finally convinced T/BC that they were on a fool’s errand and
the turn toward home and booze was made. Arriving back at the start
they found Bigfoot, Scarlett O’Hairy, and I
R S busily turning the parking lot into a Gypsies’ bar
cum homeless encampment. Between Bigfoot and I R S
there is enough portable seating to outfit a small stadium. Drill
Me still chagrined over the trail was busily taunting Badger
with a bit of Dickless’ underwear smeared with liver (yet
another early meal for Hannibal). Don’t even ask how the training
tool had been obtained. The hare’s car being missing led to the
ugly rumor that he’d realized his days were numbered and fled in
terror to Paraguay having asked Hung Juror for a list
of countries with no extradition treaty. Comes Slowly,
another early arrival, finding that she’d forgotten her corkscrew
panicked and dashed off to an earlier than usual AA meeting. While
others were searching for trail Enter The Gerbil was spotted
in the Marina Safeway one of San Francisco’s premier meet markets.
Was he searching for trail or tail? We’ll just have to wait for
Bigfoot to beat the answer out of him. Speaking of tail
D’anglin Anglin was as usual off somewhere chasing
his own. Phone Sex insists he could *un around the same
block for an hour without a sense of deja vu. The Sacred
Bucket full of rum punch was produced instantly guaranteeing a
quorum would be formed. Enter The Gerbil still
excited from his foray into melon squeezing forgot to don his chapeau
of authority but no one was sober enough to notice. Circling the pack
he delivered down-downs to the good, the bad, and the ugly. Speaking
of ugly the pack was fairly ugly by the time the hare reappeared.
Like the villagers in Frankenstein the pack dragged Dickless
into the circle where he was subjected to almost as much abuse as he
deserved. Jackoff arrived late but in the spirit of moment
tossed a rope over his motorcy and offered to drag the hapless hare
over every foot of the fabled trail. McTaco suggested instead
that Uncle Fucker get to live up to his name with the
hare once Badger and Elliot had finished. Waving the
Sword of Power our gracious majesty King Rongjon
interceded and spared both the hare’s life and rectum. Grinning
cruelly he instead sentenced Dickless to listen to one of his
interminable stories a fate that so hideous as to elicit a collective
gasp of horror from the crowd. While in the mood to pardon sinners
King Rongjon allowed I R Stupid to keep his head even
though he’d tried to weasel out of his duties as Lord of Sobriety
Checks. I R thanked him and immediately turned his
attention to prying open Wet Clam visiting from Long
BeachH3. Unfortunately he hadn’t allowed her to soak in the Sacred
Bucket long enough. Screaming Orgasm appeared on
a bicycle and proceeded to soak up enough Bucket for the
bicycle to leave riding her. Smeg a wandering hasher from
South Africa had just blundered into trail having only been in the
city for half an hour. When last seen he was curled in the fetal
position on the tarmac while quietly sucking his thumb, the Sacred
Bucket strikes again. Phone Sex in her never
ending search for sacrificial virgins sucked civilian Kimberly
and her pooch Barrington into the circle. While Elliot kept
Barrington busy ETG got Kimberly boozy. Rumor
has it that Just K C enjoyed the Bucket so much
that she was still bringing it up the next morning. Oh well she’s
not the first and won’t be the last. Survivors were split between
the Final Final and Buchanan Street Grill. The hare couldn’t even
keep the pack on trail to the on-on-on. Sometimes even gluttons for
punishment overeat. Cheers.