Run #488 This Won’t Hurt a Bit

It was the quiet before the storm as Drill Me set out to confuse and confound the Gypsies, who were quaking with fear at the prospect of another death march. The pack gathered at the Log Cabin in the Presidio; Tongueless took a pit stop and then tried to charge passers-by to view his own Log Creation. Inspired by his father but with another kind of wood in mind, Nutless Sac offered to show his woody to all the young Harriettes present. Inspecting the size and realizing that some serious stimulation would be required, Just Esther stepped up to the plate and give a reading of the Sacred Missal that left his face the color of a fire engine.

Thumper, the hero of renegades and the EBH3, arrived victorious after stirring the sleeping beast on Sunday. Little did he know that another whipping girl would soon take his place as the pariah of the Hash. The pack took off toward Broadway and Lyon, as Whippet In and Whippet Out howled death yells and chased the rabbit-like Open Wide across hill and dale. Only Likes to Lick knows if she’s like a bunny in other ways, and he’ll never tell. Boulder Holder, in search of a true Evil Dead experience, tripped over a tree root and wounded her back instead of getting the good rooting she was after. The wood seeks Boulder Holder out, she’s just that good. Rongjon revealed the purpose of his newly studly body, overtaking Phone Sex near Lombard Gate and luring her into the bushes.

Our wizened D'anglin Anglin was on a mission to direct Likes To Lick in to the beer check at Fort Point, but the two decided to drink all of the beers and leave the pack with nothing but malt beverage drinks. Arriving at the beer check, they discovered a malcontent pack eager to suck down any liquids available. It was Go Nad’s lucky day, as he happily stroked his gland to provide himself with a fast protein drink. Horrified by the sight and in fear of the angry pack fueled with malt liquor and rage, D’anglin quickly grabbed a bag of flour and headed straight for the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. The National Guard worked off at least a dozen Krispy Kremes in their pursuit, leveled their guns at him, and ordered him to Comes Slowly the other direction. Ungrateful at being saved from the terrorist threat of flour on our national treasure, Scarlett sidled up to the officers and heaved her bosom at them before heaving them over the cliff into the shark-infested waters below. 5150 could only gaze at the crumpled bodies and shake his head at their well-deserved fate, they were beyond his life-saving powers and were now singing with the angels.

Arriving at the end but unable to find the holy water, Fuck Me Father tried to milk Udder Moron for a non-alcoholic sip, but wound up covered in another milky white fluid instead. Shouting, “Fuck off, I’m all out of milk!” Spanks for the Mammaries turned him away like a irate bartender at closing time and suggested he drink from Napolean Bonerdog’s dish. Helping Father in his holy quest, IRS joined him in downing a large portion of the Bucket, depriving others who would soon be sorely in need. The duo then accosted Mutant Queen Jumper for tips on how to jump Just Maeve and Just Laura, but Beats Me selflessly leapt in to take the requisite beating to distract them from their fertile maiden prey. What a giver! Speaking of givers, Drill Me displayed her Kitchen Goddess powers and plied the pack with a totally free feast of drool-inducing homemade pasta salad and chocolate-dipped biscotti. Her Bucket had Fits In plotting to ransack her home for the recipe. Just Doesn’t Get It wondered if the secret ingredient was the hare of the dog, but it’s rumored that Go Nad’s friend Just Sean supplied the final spicing, which was extracted from the leavings of his podiatry patients. Just Jinsae vowed to tell his co-workers to steer clear of Spanks’ mammaries and instead make a beeline for the Gypsies’ Bucket. Mmm mmm good!

The King having left early to minister to his weights and water, Enter the Gerbil picked up in his stead to dispense Down Downs and slurred wisdom to the masses. The few remains of the Bucket were quickly exhausted; many suspect that Naked Hasher drank a thimbleful before going gently into that good night. Chastened by Just Maeve for forgetting to bring the new Sacred Missal for male sacrifices, Bigfoot did a penance of sweat Down Downs freshly squeezed from Boston visitor Just Franklin’s dripping shirt. Nothing Down Under swears that the two of them were spared from their company layoffs that day because of the possible flood damage that would have ensued. Fearing that the sweat of the Gypsy visitor would contaminate the pool, DipC Shit decided to stay mum about the Marin Hash Pool Party that weekend. The few but proud stood around in the dark before dispersing into darkness – who knows what evil lurks in the hearts and minds of men? The Gypsies know!