Run #444 Night of the Silent
Circle
Last
Thursday’s trail witnessed the passing of another year in the life
of our glorious King
Rongjon. The pack was
gathered at the King’s
own Palace on LaPlaya for an evening’s entertainment. Having been
the victim of profiling by his neighbors and fearing a visit from
antiterrorist forces if he maintained the usual decibel level for an
event at the palace the pack was requested to gather across the
street for its religious service. No need to worry about decibel
level as Just Katie,
spell that just pathetic, refused to read. The pack begged her,
pleaded with her, and threatened her but the diminutive douche bag
insisted her virginal lips could never pronounce the necessary words.
If her inability to wrap her tongue around a few harmless words is
any indication she’ll be saving money by never needing more than a
single bed, although Chickless
Boner
did offer to fuck her senseless on the basis that she wouldn’t be
too different from his usual run of the mill corpses. Sadie
did at least hump her leg. T/BC
attempted to read from the Sacred
Missal
but poor vision being just one of his infirmities the attempt failed
when he couldn’t read the words. Comes
Slowly
was shocked that he couldn’t just do it from memory but alas memory
failure has joined his other system failures. Forced to begin the
trail with saddened souls the pack was on-on down the bicycle path
along the Great Highway. A check at Lincoln took them across the
street and into the dunes of Ocean Beach and back in the direction
they’d cum. The trail proved shorter than King
Rongjon’s attention
span although that lack may explain why the trail was so short.
Fucking Pesto Chicken
in his never ending fight to stave off being ravished by women chose
to continue *unning long after common sense dictated he should have
switched to drinking. FPC
is the only wanker in history to turn hashing into a way to avoid
meeting bimbos. On the other hand LCB
was playing the sympathy fuck game to its hilt with crutches and a
leg wound more tightly than Just
Katie. Nice try LCB
but unfortunately most of the sympathy went to Tongueless
who while looking for trail with Beats
Me momentarily shifted
his eyes from the treacherous concrete to her beauteous butt and took
a header shedding real blood. Whippet
In and Whippet
Out were driven into
frenzy by the smell of blood and thought of the insurance money.
Beats Me
slung the barely conscious Tongueless
over her shoulder and dumped him in front of the Palace where Semen
Monster
gently ministered to his wounds. She doused the wound in iodine then
proceeded to rip off her T-shirt to stanch the blood. At the sight of
her bared breasts Grim
Rimmer
dashed into the kitchen and doused himself in ketchup hoping to win
her sympathy. Instead Semen
Monster
just swiped her hamburger across his chest and downed it in a single
bite. While pain and suffering were being dealt with at the front of
the Palace alcohol abuse and eating were taking place in the rear.
Shaggy
Dog
using a mind meld with a late arriving Fits
In,
now isn’t that a scary thought, was busy mixing the components for
River Madness in the Sacred
Bucket,
and tasting them until he keeled over. Just
Dave, a contribution
for the bimbos from Open
Wide,
was demonstrating his culinary skills by flipping burgers. Handjob
For Humanity having
drunk deeply from the Bucket
was busy exclaiming over the size of the wieners on the grill, does
this say something about her or SCAF. Stiffy
always ready to lend a hand or any other part of his anatomy led her
off to a darker spot where he promised to show her a wiener she
really could be in awe of, dreamer. Speaking of dark places and even
darker deeds Open Wide
and Likes To Lick
were off in the shadows where their activities went unseen but not
unheard. D’anglin
Anglin has the tape
and is willing to make copies. Inside the Palace Snakeless
was holding forth on the whys and wherefores of women to an audience
consisting of other lads who have failed to be laid in the 21st
Century. Perhaps Just
Nick and Just
John should seek
counsel elsewhere. This is the scene that greeted Just
Katie and her *unning
mate Get The Sausage In
from FrankfurtH3 when they returned from trail. Just
Katie overwhelmed by
the level of testosterone and estrogen in the Palace fled into the
night. Sadly since she was driving GTSI
also had to leave. Actually Just
Katie disappeared not
a moment too soon since Bigfoot
and Drill Me
having conspired on trail to feed her sorry ass to Badger
were last seen in hot pursuit of her car. Dipsea
Shit just shook his
head and ran back to Marin and the safety of his hot tub;
unfortunately he left his car at the Palace. The Sacred
Bucket
strikes again. Speaking of the Bucket,
Nutless Sac
deciding that perhaps it would be wise to spend at least one Thursday
this year in his own bed studiously avoided any contact with the
Bucket
instead choosing to spend his time cringing in the parlor and
chanting the mantra, “I will stay sober tonight.” I
R Stupid instead
embraced the Bucket,
since that’s all he had to embrace, and was last seen breathing
deeply and evenly on the King’s
compost pile where Dog
Dish tripped over the
body. Napoleon,
that international man of mystery and GM of the PipelayersH3, made a
rare appearance then proceeded to tell everyone that if he talked to
them he’d have to kill them. Scarlett
took one look at him and decided he’d be worth dying for, yet
another example of the Bucket
strikes. At the King’s
request there was no circle leaving Enter
The Gerbil
at loose ends. He solved the problem by administering a single
down-down to Fucking
Pesto Chicken who
received his long overdue 100 *uns Shirt. Dead
Dick was so toasted
that he actually tried to eat Cupcake,
much to Cupcake’s
surprise but not necessarily displeasure. The sight did drive Wankers
Island
even further into the arms of the Bucket.
He left on the arms of Pied Piper, his Yellow Lab, and Uncle
Fucker
who were debating just how much they could auction him for in the
Castro. Happy Bday King.
Cheers,