Run #431 Stinkbomb, Who Us?

Scarlett O’Hairy had to be dragged kicking and screaming out of Best Buy last Thursday night. How could Likes To Lick know when he started the trail from the parking lot of the Best Buy in Marin City that it would set her recovery back? How could he have known that she is a shopaholic? True friend that he is Wankers Island stormed into the store and arms around her waist dragged Scarlett out of her own personal hell. Her shrieks of “ just one more purchase” were terrifying and pitiful. Desperate to calm her down the pack decided that some words from the Sacred Missal would give her something to cling to. How fortunate that Witch’s Tit appeared like an apparition to read for the pack. Not seen in years, since she snagged a rich husband, Witch’s was the perfect person to calm Scarlett with the parable of the tongue-lashing lesbian threesome. The calming effect was instantaneous; Bag Lady was finally able to pry the credit cards from Scarlett’s twisted fingers. Witch’s Tit disappeared in a puff of smoke and the pack was on-on. Trail climbed an inevitable series of stairs to be followed by a hill climb that left Just Nick (but not for long) thinking of beating a hasty retreat. T/BC always willing to share misery convinced him that a beer check could not be far off. If the ends of the earth were not far off he would have been right. What goes up must cum down and down went the trail. By now Fits In and Whippet In had abandoned T/BC to the tender ministrations of Whippet Out who turned T/BC into a luge as he tore down the hill. Those still in the rear were able to ignore the flour and simply follow the blood and bits of flesh not to mention the hysterical screams of pain. Fits In was trotting along with Gets It In The End and Leo while discussing Throbbing Vessel’s latest idea to protect harriettes from themselves. He believes that all harriettes should be required to wear chadoors to protect them from the lustful glances of perverted hashmen like D’anglin Anglin and also wear ear plugs during singing to protect their tiny half-minds from the disgusting lyrics. Drill Me suggested smearing him with liver then locking him in room with Badger who, in her own inimitable fashion, could explain that hash bimbos can think for themselves. Trail moved to Shoreline Highway with any number of excellent spots for a beer check. None of these suited Likes To Lick’s fondness for the warm fuzzy techniques of the Spanish Inquisition. More in keeping with his philosophy of “Blood, Sweat, and Beers” the trail once more turned up hill. Well trail is actually a misnomer the marks went up hill. Not that the hillside was steep mind you but Semenhole and Just Celeste were nearly washed away by the mudslide created by T/BC’s tears. A non*unning Open Wide was waiting at the top in case anyone needed dental work from biting at the dirt and rocks. Dr. Kimble was ready to drive anyone needing immediate care to Marin General, Nutless Sac was ready to go through the pockets of anyone who just gave up the ghost, and Scrumbag was there to handle any ticklish legal issues. From the heights there was nowhere to go but down and down went the pack back to the parking lot and a well deserved Sacred Bucket filled with vodka tonics. Ever aspiring to add just the right touch of trailer trash chic Nutless Sac has procured a folding table which could have been set up by any semisentient six year old but took the combined efforts of Glory Hole and five or six other somewhat less than sentient talents. Sans the King, Enter The Gerbil donned his Fools Cap and proceeded to spew phlegm along with down-downs at all and sundry. Naked Hasher actually stayed for the circle. Apparently he finally found a dumpster that had some warm clothing. Tight Seal wouldn’t have felt cold if she’d been stuck in a meat locker. In fact she wasn’t feeling much of anything. Sadly, fearful that she’d be volunteered to read the Sacred Missal she’d downed a larger than usual Prozac cocktail. Chickless Boner jumping at the chance to hone his skills as a necrophiliac was soon at Tight Seal’s side. Clap Trap and Bigfoot threatening to recircumcise him tore Tight Seal from his clutches. They foolishly left her to the ministration of Dipshit who was last seen with her slung over his shoulder headed for his van. When the van is rockin’ don’t cum a knockin’. A Sheriff’s Department patrol car chose this moment to arrive. Someone had tossed a stinkbomb into The Outback Steakhouse and the owners felt that the Gypsies looked like likely suspects. The officers seeing what a motley crew they’d fallen into drew their pistols to hold the pack at bay and withdrew. In the interim Shaggy Dog had snagged Alysha a cumly lass who was driving through the parking lot. Throbbing Vessel barred her way while haranguing her on the threat to her immortal soul but the sight of a shirtless Shaggy in his studded biker boots won out. Yet another civilian soul was soon lost in vodka and song. Bucket empty the pack invaded The Outback. Cleverly mixing margaritas with her vodka tonics Just Lauren let slip that in a fit of passion Just Nick had slipped and called her Donnie Osmond. In an instant he’d earned the name Sucks Donnie Osmond. Crying bitter tears he accepted his fate and told Lauren that from now on he wears the gag when they play the Contessa and the Chauffeur. T/BC donned Shaggy’s motorcy helmet and proceeded to make an even bigger fool of himself than usual. The insanity must stop, just not yet. Cheers.