Run #467 Don’t Spit into the Wind
Twisted
clawlike hands rubbing together, grotesque cackling laughter, the
hunched over figure dropping flour in Pacifica was either the Wicked
Witch of the West or last week’s hare Rhett Butthole. Okay,
it was Rhett; even the Witch wouldn’t have planned to set a
death march through the darkened hills surrounding Pacifica. The
weather seemed to accommodate our hare’s perspective on fun; cold
and with a howling wind as the pack gathered in the parking lot of
the Sharpe’s Park Golf Course. There are those who say that the
wind was nowhere as wild as the week before but your scribe can’t
know for sure as he was enjoying the balmy weather in Helsinki that
week. With the wind tearing the words from his throat SCAF
manfully provided religion from the Sacred Missal. One
can’t be sure whether it was the impact of the sermon or just the
cold but Just Corey’s nipples were certainly perky through
the six or seven layers she was wearing. Too cold to care the pack
was off into the night. Trail led them high into the hills
overlooking Pacifica and along a ridgeline that exposed them to the
brunt of the wind. In a desperate effort to once again win the hash
LCB stripped off his shirt and holding it high above his head
used it a sail to propel himself past slower and saner *unners. As
they staggered or flew off the ridge the pack found itself an a
bicycle path that led it into a parking lot where the hare had
provided Jell-O shots for those who needed frozen antifreeze.
Speaking of antifreeze Tongueless had consumed so much alcohol
in Helsinki that his blood could still have been used as the complete
components of a powerful Bloody Mary. As the sweat froze on their
bodies the pack realized that survival came in the form of continuing
to *un just to generate body heat. Glory Hole already had a
thin sheet of ice coating him and had he remained in the parking lot
much longer would have resembled an ancient artifact chopped out a
frozen grave. By now Tongueless was becoming concerned that
Fits In and Whippet In and Whippet Out had
failed to appear. They along with Drill Me and Bite Size
and Comes Slowly made up the walkers contingent. He calmed
down considerably when Nutless Sac produced a tide table
showing that were they to have been blown off the ridge into the
ocean and drowned the tide would have carried them to shore making it
easier for Tongueless to collect on the insurance. Trailing
icicles from their shorts the pack was once more off into the night.
Trail led them back uphill to a beer check where they consumed the
amber fluid by straining out the icy bits through clenched teeth. Ice
falling around them the pack made its way back to the start where
Nutless Sac had circled the wagons as a windbreak. Tongueless’
dreams of rum soaked nights on Caribbean isles were dashed as he saw
that Fits In had in fact survived the trail. She and Drill
Me had found themselves overwhelmed by mutinous pooches who had
insisted that a warm auto was preferable to a jaunt in the cold and
wind. Not that the dogs had had to face much resistance. Comes
Slowly along with Meat Pie who had arrived late had
decided to make their own trail which both started and finished at
the restaurant across the parking lot. Having consumed enough
martinis to keep Tanqueray in business for years to cum they
staggered into the circle to consume yet more alcohol. With the King
still conducting delicate diplomatic missions in the far north Enter
The Gerbil once again donned his Fool’s Cap and
administered down-downs. A bottle of Goldschlager appeared as if by
magic and combined with the Sacred Bucket filled with vodka
tonics definitely took the chill out of the pack. Tongueless
in an effort to both reduce his blood alcohol level and improve his
scent wore a Goldschlager and two vodka tonics on his head. Open
Wide was so toasty that she mistook Nutless Sac for Likes
To Lick only to find that Nutless doesn’t like to
lick. I R Stupid even more far gone offered to lick anyone
interested but only Sadie seemed intrigued by the offer and a
horrified Comes Slowly hustled her off to safety. D’anglin
Anglin always a keen observer allowed as to how he could see a
certain family resemblance between LTL and Nutless but
then of course he was holding this conversation with a tree.
Chickless Boner just back from Japan found that Bigfoot
had bought him a welcome back present in the form of a matched set of
ceremonial Hara-Kiri knives and directions on their use. By this time
Captain Titanic once again visiting the Gypsies had
quietly staggered off to answer a call to nature and ended up
sleeping quietly in dumpster he’d fallen into. His hiding place was
only found when enquiring minds noticed his disappearance and No
Hands allowing Sammy to be used as a bloodhound tracked
him to his lair. It took Sammy only minutes to find Capt. T
sniffing out the Goldschlager he’d barfed down his wind jacket.
Sadly El Toro Loco had suffered a burst pipe and Huevos had to close
the joint so the pack was forced to dine on pizza somewhere in
Pacifica. Cheers.