Run #459 Whatever Happened to Lois Lame?
Dick
Chick and McTaco promised to lead the pack into dark and
mysterious parts of the city last Thursday night but they never
mentioned the pack would be *unning through San Francisco’s version
of the Bermuda Triangle. Somewhere in the dark and cold Presidio Lois
Lame was swallowed, a reversal of roles, by the night. Not even
Elliot could smell her out, not all the noses of all the dogs
could provide a clue to Lois’ whereabouts. Gary Condit where
are you when we need you? It all started well enough. Our hares
brought the pack to heel at Laurel and California. Virgin Just
Kathy announced that she wanted to be called The Librarian so it
was only fitting that she provide the religious experience of the
evening. Bearing a striking resemblance to the heroine of the week’s
parable in the Sacred Missal our latest blonde acquisition was
able to choke out a credible performance between her “Oh my gods.”
Still from the look on her flushed face as she finished the reading
it was clear that she’d take some performance enhancing tips away
for her effort. Their souls cleansed the pack was off on trail. Trail
took the pack to a check at Euclid where as is wont these day the
first check chopped the head off the chickens. The check fed into a
circle jerk that had the majority of jerks circling. Elissa
cast her lot with Tongueless, Fits In and the flour
sniffing noses of Whippet In and Whippet Out. Of course
casting your lot with this crew is akin to tossing your steering
wheel out the window during a game of chicken. Trail eventually
turned towards the Presidio for all except Dickless Namehole
who applied his patent pending system for ending up nowhere near
trail and spent an entertaining evening in Golden Gate Park fending
off homeless drunks who based on his accent confused him with
Crocodile Dundee. Drill Me was quite upset that she hadn’t
followed Dickless since the last time she ended up with him
Bite Size had free meat for a week. True trail went into the
Presidio where a song check allowed Likes To Lick to lead a
spirited sing along of yet another mindless hash song at the vista
point on Arguello. The song ended and their throats parched from
singing the pack was off on a mad dash for the promised beer check.
Marks would have speeded the process but our hares preferred to let
the pack use the tried and true method of staggering about aimlessly
until trail is accidentally found. In an act of compassion that may
take her years to live down Dick Chick actually let the pack
know when it missed a turn arrow. Her kindness so overwhelmed Open
Wide that she fell to her knees clutching Dick Chick’s
hand and weepily thanked her for her kindness. Our hares had
conceived an eagle/turkey split that sent the eagles down Lovers’
Lane while the turkeys gobbled along behind the houses leading out of
the Presidio to the beer check at Lyons and Pacific. Thumper
concerned about the whereabouts of Latex Dreams found
his fears quenched as easily as his thirst by that fourth beer. When
Phone Sex asked if he’d seen her it was clear that
Thumper was having trouble remembering just who Latex
was. Sharif [sic] and the completely unmemorable woman who
made him cum were late arrivals having taken the idea of Lovers’
Lane seriously. A straight shot brought the pack back to the parking
lot behind Laurel Village where Nutless Sac had set up the bar. The
Sacred Bucket was filled with vodka tonics and the cocktail
hour was struck. Glory Hole arrived too late to trot but not
to drink. He really needed a few cups of punch having cum from a hard
day of flashing at children’s play areas. GH was in such a
rush to get to the Bucket that he was still wearing his long
flasher’s coat but since there were no toddlers about he’d put on
shorts. Chickless Boner had newboots Kate and Charlene
salivating at his description of all the young men at the Whine &
Chowder Society until he mentioned gleefully that most of them were
poofs. While the ladies’ seemed deflated newboot Bruce’s
interest seemed piqued. Down downs were handled by a well oiled and
armed King Rongjon. Swaying slowly to his inner music the
Gypsies’ liege lord pointed his Sword Of Power at any
offender who caught his eye; most were women. Nutless Sac
tossed Chrissie into the pot and she definitely raised the
King’s ante. Newboots Charlene, Kate, and Bruce
proved that lameness knows no gender. Captain Titanic visiting
from the Mt. VernonH3 soon found the Sacred Bucket as deadly
as his namesake found an iceberg. No Hands ran sans Sammy but
there were enough dogs for him to get a pooch fix with his pints.
Spanky and Twinkle Dick would have been safer had they
been attended by keepers with leashes as by evening’s end both were
unable to do more than rollover and drool. Speaking of drooling
Scarlett O’Hairy was drooling over her latest import virgin
Vincent. How sad she must have been to find him paying more
attention to Manhole’s new pooch Otto. Oh well,
Scarlett, bestiality is best. SCAF came alone rumor has
it that until he learns to sit up and beg Handjob For Humanity
he’ll be doing that a lot. Dick Chick kept threatening to
tear herself away and head for Tahoe but the siren song of the Bucket
held her fast. Towel slung around her hips in finest Dorothy Lamour
fashion she was busy vamping Muff Snatcher and whispering that
he was her only man. Somehow she managed to avoid mentioning the
dogs, horses, and oh yes, the water buffalo she’s been seen
cavorting with lately. Daniel was clearly under her spell as
he brought her a tart for her own pleasure and knowing the woman, a
bag of peanuts should she cum across a horny elephant. With the
Bucket depleted those who could still crawl made their way to
Pasta Pomadoro. Oh what at tangled web we weave when trying to knit
drunk. Cheers.