Run #495 The Asphalt Bungle

Parking is apparently a concept our hares Mr. Poopy Pants and 3 Ball J are unfamiliar with since none existed at either end of their A-B trail last week. Luckily selecting the Shannon Arms on 19^th and Taraval gave the pack a place to gather and drink out of traffic while the hares laid a “zombie trail” neither live nor dead but then that’s the way most Gypsies are often described after a few minutes around the Sacred Bucket. Xena The Warrior Princess was there to announce that he’d drop kicked his latest bimbo through the goal posts of his life having allowed her the allotted fifteen minutes of fame as a Xena consort. Just Mark a hasher from London strolled by just in time to be snagged into providing the religious service for the evening. Reading the Sacred Missal with a toney British accent his upper lip was clearly the only thing that was stiff. Just Doesn’t Get It announced that he wouldn’t be interested even if he was gay, which he’s not, but there is nothing wrong with being gay, of course. Somehow offering to have sex with Napoleon Bonerdog doesn’t seem likely to settle any outstanding issues, if there were any, which there aren’t, but it would be okay if there were. At Your Cervix was a tad more direct when she poked her finger down her throat and made gagging noises. Just Mark hung his head, the only thing worth hanging, and left. The first check was marked SV leading Fuck Me, Father to assume that he’d left the city and was in Silicone Valley. Luckily Libby has a better sense of where she is and kept him from heading for Burlingame. The hares had promised a beer check and the pack was in desperate need of liquid replenishment having sweated its life away trying to find trail. At the back of the pack, where else would they be, Tongueless, Fits In, and Splat sorely missed the noses of Whippet In and Whippet Out to detect the mist of flour laid down by the hares. A Beer Near sign at the school on 30^th and Lawton led them to believe that the magic elixir was on the way only to find their hopes dashed when they bypassed the rest stop. Still it could have been worse since the oh so upscale Mr. Poopy Pants was flogging cheap plonk on the unsuspecting. Booger Hooker was so distraught over being served wine instead of beer that at the on-on he was still weeping into Phone Sex’s bosom…clever devil. Fulfilling their promise to make this trail a pub *un the hares sent the Mucky Duck on 9^th Ave. followed by Yancy’s on Irving. While the pack was pouring down piss 3 Ball took Tongueless back to the start so he could bring alcohol to the finish which became 7^th Ave. and the MLK in the park. Once again the Gypsies proved that any problem can be solved by applying the proper amount of alcohol. No plans in place to get people back from B to A , hell just fill ‘em full of vodka tonics from the Sacred Bucket and no worries. The Sacred Bucket became the magic carpet on which so many floated home. Not that Go Nad needed much help since he was still drunk from the down-downs he’d received the week before…they must have been time release. Speaking of down-downs with the King and Gerbil off to Goa they were ably handled by Apple Pie Ho and Xena. Apple Pie was busy trying to prove that he was related to Just Catherine because he still believes in kissin’ cousins. The way Mr. Bone Jangles was slipping off with Libby we can’t wait to see what the puppies will look like. Just Fiona was smarting from the way her reading of the Sacred Missal last week was handled by Drill Me in the Trash, advice to Drill Me: never, never piss off a redheaded woman. Having left an impression in the shorts of all the men she met Just Fiona will be going home to Dublin as Gay Lick a name more related to her language than her sexual proclivities. Six Million Won Man refused to give her to the Gypsies in exchange for two draft choices, oh well. Who says alcohol consumption doesn’t lead to clairvoyance? It could be 3 Ball J since while he was off to the Kezar to find Manhandler she was tossing them down from the Sacred Bucket. With the alcohol depleted the pack split between Ireland’s 32 and the Shannon Arms. Those who made it back to the Shannon Arms found Just John and Just Scott waiting for them with open arms and open wallets. The luck of the Gypsies. Cheers.