Run #450 Copland or How the Gypsies Got Malled

Those who think that two heads are better than one clearly have never met the heads sitting upon the shoulders of Chickless Boner and Wankee Doodle our esteemed hares last Thursday night. Chickless was fresh from his tour of London’s mortuaries and grave yards where American enthusiasm met Old World corpses. His more perverse desires sated it was back to prove that he can still be unclear on the concept of trail setting. Assuming that he couldn’t do enough damage alone he wangled Wankee Doodle current Grand Masseuse of the Whine & Chowder Society into assisting him. Exhibiting a staggering knowledge of current events our hares chose to do the 2Live Jew *un on the first day of Ramadan. George W sends his love. The high comedy of the evening was arrived at when Gored Bush announced that it was Chickless who had made her cum. Dick Chick laughed so hard she wet herself. Finding themselves with an embarrassment of riches the Gypsies’ own brand of religion was handled by not one but two priestesses, Gored Bush and Just Karen. Their special stereo rendition of the Sacred Missal was brilliant. Just Karen’s tongue flicking like a snake was perfectly juxtaposed with the flecks of saliva in the corners of Gored Bush’s lips as their hips sent out a signal as old as Pandora. A glassy eyed Manhole admitted to being strangely stirred and Just Doesn’t Get It was reduced to sucking his thumb while curled up in the fetal position (he definitely needs to get out more). Comes Slowy was heard to tell Sadie that this reading might just change her mind about threesomes, a bit of news that had D’anglin Anglin perking up his ears. A serpent was definitely slithering through the garden at Stonestown last week. Speaking of serpents once the pack was off through the Nordstrom parking garage that snake in the grass Mr. Mall Security reared his ugly head. With an IQ somewhat less than an amoeba’s our macho mallmasters questioned the Gypsies’ right to be there. Chickless assuming his best Jimmy Stewart pose declaimed on the constitution and the rights of man. The mindless minions of commerce simply beat a tattoo on his topknot. Icehole tried to intervene and found himself on thin ice. Finally Tongueless massaged their massive egos and with much tugging of forelock and shuffling of feet he convinced the first wave to depart. Meanwhile the unsuspecting pack was trying to find the anthrax ridden trail through SFSU and Park Merced, owned by the Queen of Mean Leona Helmsley herself. The convoluted trail left Dickless Namehole telling anyone who would listen that this was proof that he wasn’t the worst hare in history Fucking Pesto Chicken, no slouch at shitty trails himself, found time to laugh between ragged breaths. Back at the ranch Icehole had gone for large cups to be used on the flat beer Fucking Pesto had left over from the Whine & Chowder Society. Never one to look a gift keg in the tapper Davy Crock O’Shit had put his lips to the spout and pumped himself full of four day old Eye of the Hawk. Once on trail he was looking more like he’d pumped himself full of eye of newt and wing of bat. The steep hill off of Brotherhood Way had him leaving a trail of his own. Scrotum, esteemed GM of the Eastbay/Mt. DiabloH3, noted that while it might be painful for Davy it was a damn sight easier to follow than the hares’ trail. Meat Pie having started late was totally flummoxed and spent her time wandering hither and yon. She returned early and was gone before the second wave of rent-a-cops arrived. This time it was a single dim bulb who wanted to take the glow out of the evening. Once again Icehole interjected himself into the affray and once again Tongueless bowed and scraped the pack out of danger. Has no one ever taught the hares that hashers are like donuts to mall cops we give them something to do during the course of their endless and mindless rounds. They dream of the OK Corral but instead of the Clantons and Curly Bill Brocious they end up with the likes of I R Stupid and Nutless Sac. Back on trail the pack was heading back to the parking lot at SFSU when Open Wide shamelessly admitted to Fits In that she’d been having erotic fantasies about Whippet In. A grinning Fits In told her that for some things Whippet Out definitely had him licked. Lois Lame slid on by whistling Bestiality’s Best Boys softly to herself. As the pack slowly drifted in they were sent to the parking lot at Sutro Library just down the road. A parking lot free of mall cops. Drill Me was the last one in thanks to Badger’s refusal to stop before she’d eaten the whole co-ed. Once the pack had reconvened Enter The Gerbil assumed his role as King’s Fool and distributor of alcoholic justice. Just Jason was given a down-down for being so eminently forgettable and Gerbil announced a Jason Stupid Watch. Even if he gets a name who’ll remember it. In keeping with the theme of the trail our hares supplied Gefilte Fish and Matzos. The chewed remains looked lovely on Bigfoot’s tongue and she made sure to shove it into everyone’s face. The horse radish left smoke cuming out of LCB’s ears and he found himself forced to cut the fire with more than just liberal doses from the Sacred Bucket filled with Mogen David and Sprite. Phone Sex found the combination of Gefilte Fish and Tositos outstanding. Beats Me found the Bucket to have an aphrodisiac like quality and soon Dick So Soft wasn’t. Naked Hasher found the Bucket to have the same affect and deep in his cups set off to bring a little love to our mall cops. Only Manisex Destiny’s of the W&C S intervention prevented what could have been an ugly scene. Son Of Shit the RA for the W&CS was in attendance ostensibly to watch Enter The Gerbil in action and learn from the foot of the master but the Bucket left him comatose at the foot of the master. Shaggy Dog offered to put something big and throbbing between Phone Sex’s legs but she declined the ride on his motorcy in favor of a private party with Scarlett O’Hairy where they took turns defaming the men of the hash. King Rongjon was definitely a royal highness and declined to wave the Sword Of Power out of concern for the necks of his vassals. The hares sent the pack to Chevy’s oy vay for more grease and alcohol then disappeared themselves. Hardly kosher. Cheers.