Run #470 Sexcalibur
Last
Thursday was the A(nal) G(rand) M(ockery) the
time when Gypsies once again swear unswerving fealty to our
sovereign King Rongjon. What a King, okay so unlike
Arthur he’s never had to pull his sword out of anything but then
he’s never shoved it into anything either. So what if the parking
lot of the Randall Museum isn’t quite Camelot at least the food and
drink were a hashers favorite kind FREE. That magic word attracted
hashers from as far away as Oregon in the form of Headqueen
and Rockhard who brought the newest little hasher; six weeks
old and already drinking breast milk mixed with beer. Son Of Shit
also found the siren song of free food and drink impossible t resist
so he once again graced the Gypsies with his presence.
Performing his duty as hare King Rongjon, still
frighteningly on the wagon, swore he’d set a trail to punish
unbelievers and those who needed to lose weight. The BostonH3 gave
the Gypsies Horse Butt Fucker to carry out the
religious service for the week. The lanky lad found the Sacred
Missal too much to deal with and his face the color of a fire
engine he manfully tried to sound out words that described actions
he’d only dreamt of while wanking. When Scarlett O’Hairy
took him aside and offered to saddle him up and take him over the
jumps his voice went up three octaves and cracked in a combination of
fear and desire. With visions of Scarlett dancing through his
head he joined the pack as it was on-on. Trail took the pack through
and over the top of Corona Heights Park and down towards the Castro.
In an act of either insane courage or the desire to increase his
chances of a date on Saturday night Chickless Boner
mooned the crowd on the corner of Castro and Market the ensuing riot
left him with a sore ass and San Francisco’s finest with plenty of
overtime pay. Shaft and Just Doesn’t Get It (how
apropos) finally shoved their way through the sea of swinging meat
and came to his rescue. While Drill Me and a frothing
Bite Size fought a valiant rearguard action the pack
dragging along the barely conscious but grinning CB hurried
across Market and into the night. LCB took this as an
opportunity to assume his rightful position as FRB and was off like a
shot. Trail took the pack over the overpass across Market and up
towards Twin Peaks. By now Tongueless had decided he knew
where he was, a tragic error, and how to get back effortlessly. The
long suffering Fits In and Whippet In and Whippet
Out not sure but ever loyal followed along. Just Mark
afraid to be separated from even this rag tag band foolishly decided
to throw his lot in with them. Exhibiting the route finding skills
that led to the death of almost everyone who ever trusted him in the
mountains Tongueless proceeded to get the lost patrol
hopelessly lost. As thoughts of the Donner Party crossed their
fevered brains Fits In decided to assume command and ask for
directions back to 17th Street from whence she could find
the start. As Just Mark held Tongueless in a strangle
hold to prevent him from interfering and the hungry dogs gnawed at
his leg Fits In saved the day. By the time the wanderers
finally returned to the start the pack had already had a beer check
and was restlessly awaiting the chance to dive into the Sacred
Bucket. The Bucket was filled with the traditional
Bengal Lancers’ Punch and the visitor from Boston along with the
virgin he’d brought as a sacrifice to the Gypsy Bimbos, Just
Matt, found it to pack more punch than they needed. Horse Butt
Fucker still dreaming of Scarlett’s promise found
himself legless as well as less other appendages when the time came
to live out the dream. Dick Chick, wagging an admonishing
finger, told Scarlett “That’s what you get for cradle
robbing.” Completely oblivious to all this as she was to most
things once she realized the Bucket contained red wine Comes
Slowly was busy sitting with her back against the fence happily
mumbling to herself. Overjoyed to be able to attend the Gypsies
without needing an ironclad alibi for his ball and chain Pied
Piper foolishly overindulged in the Bucket and when last seen his
faithful Lab was desperately trying to lick him awake. You could
practically see the bulb, a very dim one, light in Nutless Sac’s
very drunk and horny mind as he poured beer on his dick and lay down
next to Piper. The Lab was not to be swayed from his duty but
Sammy showed a keen interest and Nutless was only
moments from ecstasy when No Hands rescued the pooch from a
fate worse than….well you know. D’anglin Anglin
offered No Hands cash to let the show continue but Meat Pie
nixed the proposition. An over the top Open Wide then
suggested that Likes To Lick might live up to his name the
thought was apparently more than he could take and LTL fainted
at her feet. Clearly a diversion was needed and the Oath of Feelty
served that purpose nicely. Standing erect under his own power the
King held aloft the Sword Of Power and after a few
words in praise of his wise and strong rule from Tongueless
the assembled circle took the oath and drank the once and future
King’s health. Overtaken by his heritage Glory Hole
wept and declared Rongjon the most popular of the royals even
in London. The King then began dispensing down-downs to those
who’d earned them. At this point chose to return from trail
insisting that a senior moment, more like a senior hour, was the
cause for his delay. Ever the care giver Bigfoot turned her
attention from Naked Hasher ministering to the temporarily
lame Enter The Gerbil, a Planters Wart having been
removed from his foot, to providing Naked with a list of
assisted living facilities. Rhett Butthole then
wondered aloud about where Gerbil had been sticking his feet.
Naked was clearly more interested in having At Your Cervix
assist his living but she was busy being fought over by Just Jim
and I R Stupid. This of course led Snakeless to sing
the Wanking Song acknowledging once again that he’d rather hold it
in his hand. Having known him longer than most Shithead
harrumphed that at this stage even Snakeless’ hand wasn’t
returning calls. LCB kindly turned the tailgate of his truck
into a buffet and the pack stuffed itself on sandwiches to wash down
the alcohol. For those who were feeling the cold alcohol consumption
continued at Magnolia. Long Live the King. Cheers.