Run #441 Solace for the
Stranded
It
was a night of confusion and loss, of tears and remembrance. The Grim
Rimmer continued to
explore his ambiguous and ever-shifting sexual identity, with
inevitably tragic consequences -- Shithead
experienced his first erection in years, prompting him to seek
immediate psychiatric help. And Tongueless,
trapped on the other side of the continent, found himself for once
speechless when a quick-thinking D.C. barman cut him off after his
19th pint. (Fits In,
with the wisdom borne of long experience,
somehow was able to
make sense of Tongueless’s
consonant-rich e-mail on the incident.)
Yet
the evening was dominated by a worldwide air-traffic shutdown and a
subsequent hunt for drunken relief that drove legions of the
dispossessed into the welcoming arms of the Gypsies
as they assembled by
the Chain of Lakes. There was Stacker,
unable to escape the scene of his previous week’s crimes as
planned, forced to endure once more as the still-unsatisfied Scarlett
O’Hairy lavished him
with the affection for which she has become justly famous. Always
Pays for Sex, pining
for the cheap chippies of Shanghai, traded tips with McTaco
on ways to get it for free, truly one of the shortest conversations
in history. Me Joe
Slut, another refugee
from Asia, strapped on his hiking boots for what he was sure would be
a grueling ordeal, little knowing that his greatest challenge would
be dodging Badger after
Drill Me
decided that she would have this slut, come what may.
Visitors
Stiffie
and Sum Yung Guy
claimed not to be stranded at all, but happened across the pack by
accident when Fucking
Pesto Chicken wheeled
his SUV in a tight turn nearby, spilling an extensive collection of
farm pornography and masturbation toys before them. Whine and Chowder
Society newcomers Erection
Denied, Gored
Bush, Tick
Dick and Just
Jason were locked in
an enthusiastic four-way until LCB
happened by looking for anyone else who would swing his direction and
dragged them to the start.
Our
Hare, professional oral technician Open
Wide, called the pack
to order. Just Michele,
a virgin incomprehensibly accompanying Sucks
Donnie Osmond on what
she had thought would be a simple chance to ravish him, thus
fulfilling a fantasy from her childhood, gave a rousing reading from
the Sacred Missal
that left IR Stupid
wishing he’d learned to read himself. Slapping aside Pied
Piper’s roaming
hands in favor of Likes
to Lick’s reliable
grip, Open Wide quickly
set the pack on trail. Winding across Golden Gate Park, over hill and
dale, the trail’s numerous checkpoints and scenic views delighted
our visitors but bewildered Manhole,
who eventually followed Dickless
Namehole into the
buffalo enclosure where a horny bull showed the two Gypsies
what they’ve been missing.
Lois
Lame, inexplicably
unable to locate her Hash clothes, chose to run naked beneath her
full-length overcoat, and arrived sweating but perky at the beer
check on Sutro Heights. Sin
Cojones was so aroused
he asked Tits for Hire
for relief; she referred him immediately to Handjob
for Humanity, who
archly informed him that visitors only get freebies their first time.
Semen Monster
said she’d rise to the occasion, but failed to take Sin
Cojones’ name
literally, and found to her regret that this particular tap had long
since run dry. Fortunately Sperm Alley wasn’t far away, and Semen
Monster soon declared
the evening had not been a total loss.
Back
at the start the Sacred
Thermi made their
seasonal re-appearance, and the Gypsies
were soon downing hot
rum-based drinks and beers. When the hard stuff began to run low
Naked Hasher
volunteered to find more, vanished in the general direction of the VA
hospital and returned carrying a stash of Old Soldier’s Grog. The
stuff proved as vile as it sounded, which didn’t prevent Bigfoot
from knocking back half a bottle in celebration of her birthday.
Enter the Gerbil threw
her over his shoulder and said he’d be right back as soon as she’d
been both emptied and filled. King
Rongjon drew his Sword
of Power and declared
that the thought made his stomach hurt worse than the booze ever had.
He proceeded to regale the pack with the oft-requested ballad of
Clint and the Gay Caballero, bringing a dreamy look to the face of
Open Wide
and steam from the shorts of Dick
Chick, who knows a
thing or two about blowjobs on credit.
Soon
the Circle was over and the pack retreated to the appropriately named
Hockey Haven, where there was plenty of shooting but little scoring.
Wanker’s Island
reappeared in the
company of the Hash-shy Just
Alison, Nutless
Sac bought drinks for
the house, and soddenly inebriated Gypsies
eventually dispersed in a flurry of missing gloves, missed love,
dropped keys, drooping willies, loose cash and loose women. Several
Gypsies
were even reported to have made it back to their own homes somehow.
On on.