Run #429 Someone’s in the Kitchen with Drill Me

Last week was a busy one for those involved in the Gypsies’ Summer Solstice Pagan Fest held on Thursday night at Ocean Beach. While our hares Fucking Pesto Chicken and Enter The Gerbil were desperately consulting Dickless Namehole’s Big Book of Haring Drill Me was spending her evenings checking out The White Trash Guide to Bitchin’ Bar BQs. Good students that they are our hares learned their lessons well. Of course Dickless would have had to lower the hares’ grade just a tad since there were portions of the trail that were visible to the naked eye and actually spots where trail could be followed by even those with half a mind, but then no one is perfect. Drill Me arrived toting enough crap to qualify as a street person in Arkansas. Barking orders like a demented drill sergeant she had normally slothful Gypsies like Wankers Island lifting barges and toting bales. Of course knowing that failure to obey could lead to becoming Badger’s dinner de jour didn’t hurt. It was amazing to see Just Lois; apparently named Clap Trap by the Whine & Chowder Society (should we be distributing condoms), hauling those concrete blocks around but then fear is a great incentive. The evening’s grace was read from the Sacred Missal by bashful Liquor Up, LCB’s visiting squeeze from AlohaH3. Quaking with either fear or embarrassment, one’s as good as the other, she gave the pack something to be thankful for before they had to face the trail. Trail dropped down to the beach to immediately climb up some boulders back out to the Great Highway. Those who preferred wet feet to boulders continued along the beach through the surf to easier climbs. Trail proceeded along the Great Highway to Fort Funston where the pack dissolved into its usual headless chicken crossed with a lemming mode. T/BC, Fits In, and Whippet In and Whippet Out apparently missed the mark sending the pack down and spent an interminable amount of time looking for a down go while hurling insults and blaming each other for missing what certainly was an obvious mark. Fits In, of course, had the final word as a strategically placed leash sent T/BC rolling down the sand dunes like the proverbial snowball in Hell. Landing on Skyline Blvd. he collided with a couple more members of the legion of the lost Chickless Boner and D’anglin Anglin. A quick tour around Lake Merced also brought them in contact with Shaggy Dog and Whine & Chowder wanker Scrotisserie who found themselves befuddled by Pesto and Gerbil’s use of such arcane marks as the male and female symbols. These were either to signify some sort of eagle/turkey split or direct needy pack members to the appropriate restroom. No one ever figured it out. Happily all roads, no matter how bizarre, led back to the start and a Sacred Bucket filled with Zombies. Some, like Just Lauren, found the taste a trifle strange at first but found that over time, like so many things, the taste could be acquired. Lauren acquired enough of a taste that by evening’s end her eyes were spinning like fruits in a slot machine. Poor Just Bob was so fascinated that he kept pulling on her arm and waiting for three cherries to show up. Pesto gathered all the deadwood together for a bonfire and adding just enough lighter fluid to torch your average warehouse he lit up the night sky. T/BC was able to convince Bitch In Heat that nude fire jumping was a time-honored tradition. Bitch proceeded to give a whole new meaning to smoked oysters. While others were flippin’ out Drill Me was flippin’ burgers. Watching others work is so relaxing. Sadly, Drill Me over bought on the veggie burgers forgetting that the Gypsies are more carnivorous than other groups and want some meat to clog their arteries while alcohol kills their livers. As always there were those who eschewed the *un and came for the cocktails. Voyeur was a late arrival and brought John. Did this signify that so many women have dumped him that he’s giving men a chance to follow suit? Shaggy made Just Nick2 cum could he and Voyeur be planning a foursome? McTaco brought his dad Jerry. Lucky for them that Elliot was strong enough to haul both of them back to the car. Well the acorn doesn’t all far from the tree or in McTaco’s case the olive far from the Martini. Speaking of dogs Sammy was there to tear up the beach and slurp up as many down-downs as he could. No Hands is seriously considering taking him to AA meetings. Oh what fools we mortals be, Nutless Sac is so naive that he brought not only his wife, Anna Luisa but also friends Brian and Krysel. They were foolish enough to bring their son John. On the other hand during down-downs Krysel waxed eloquent about her most bizarre sexual experience and the circle was held spellbound. Hearing her describe something that involved spike heels and scrotum stomping brought beads of sweat to many a male forehead. As you can tell Gerbil by now had a well-lubricated pack circled up and was dispensing down-downs with a vengeance. Having been away for so long Gets It In The End was called forth to drink and explain her absence. Her plight brought a tear to many and eye. It seems her spouse Throbbing Vessel has banned her from hashing. Having taken a stab at being a hasher and failing, he’s decided that it is childish and sexist. Well duh, what was his first clue, D’anglin Anglin screaming “tits out for the boys” in front of that convent? Rugburns it seems is having a similar problem with her S O. Sleeping with the sense of humor impaired is a true cross to bear. While heart strings were being plucked Open Wide was working the crowd still looking for a mouth in bad enough shape to launch her dental hygienist career. Likes To Lick is nothing if not loyal the way he was holding down drunks like I R Stupid so OW could get that tiny mirror into their mouths. Not that OW was in such great shape. While Likes To Lick was holding down Whine and Chowder harriette Wrong Hole, OW, well, wrong hole isn’t just a name anymore. As long as we’re getting physical we can’t forget that Just Nick was busy down-downing because his doctor has told him not to spend so much time on his knees. By now Shithead was sleeping soundly in the sand. We just hope that Scarlett O’Hairy and Phone Sex dug him back out before they left. Not that it’s the first time he’d wake-up with his mouth gritty. There was so much sand in the down-downs that he’ll have plenty of company. Enough Zombies had entered the system that clothes were being shucked and bodies heaved into the surf. Pesto was one of the first into the cold water but as Bigfoot noted you can’t shrink what isn’t there. Dick Chick found herself pursued by the Grim Rimmer and Chickless Boner. That’s something akin to being caught between Harpo Marx and Jason. Lucky for her their attention was diverted into a debate over who had the rattier bathrobe. By evening’s end it was clear that many a head would be hurting in the morning and there were those who would have gladly allowed King Rongjon to sever theirs but he was in much the same shape and the hand that normally wields the Sword was too shaky to get a cup to his lips. On the other hand Scrotisserie who spent the evening with a bottle of Crystal Geyser clutched in his fist would be clean and sober, how sad. Nine gallons of piss, two gallons of Zombies, and all Drill Me’s good cooking later the Gypsies were MMM MMM good. Cheers.