The Gypsies in the Palace 500^th Weekend

Chapter One: Run #500 It was a Dark and Stormy Night

Like most of what you are about to read the title of this work is a lie. Oh your scribe might call it fiction but lie is so much more a truthful description. Halloween in San Francisco and with the Gypsies to boot what could be more frightening? Apparently not much for all the wankers who chose not to be there because “the Gypsies drink too much.” Well you know who you are so there is no need mentioning anyone by name or other affiliation. For the true cognoscenti of a good time the west end of Kezar Stadium was the place to be and real hashers came from far and wide to be there. Among the non square were Hash Hole from Belgium and Prince from West London, hell they were there because “the Gypsies drink too much.” DeBriefed from the San DiegoH3 handled the Sacred Missal with lawyerly aplomb. So perfectly enunciated were her words and so clearly loaded with sexual promise that Corkscrew suddenly found himself twisted straight. Dressed as Dracula he found that DeBriefed’s peroration sent him to a ten on the lust meter but it wasn’t her blood that he wanted. D’anglin Anglin dressed as a low rent Tony the Tiger was to busy paying attention to Beats Me to notice the unscrewing of Cork. Dressed as a June Cleaver clone Beats Me clearly showed what Beaver wanted left to him. D’anglin was brought back to the days of his youth when looking through their dresses at the tits of his mother’s friends was how he would while away a sunny day. LCB dressed as the Boy Scout he is took poor D’anglin to task but he wasn’t above dropping a dime and looking up Beats’s skirt when he bent to pick it up. Tongueless and I R Stupid were the perpetrators of the evening’s crimes against nature so it was fitting that Tongueless was dressed in a full out Turkey suit, many did not notice the difference especially when he put on the head, and I R Stupid may or may not have been wearing a demon mask, a poll of women he’s dated would have to be taken decide if it was fake. Trail took the pack through Golden Gate Park past the carousel where Xena The Warrior Princess dressed suitably as a pimp tried to interest a couple of toddlers in posing for his Internet site. This is what happens when you drink too much before the trail even starts. No luck with the kiddies but at least one of the moms was seen tucking his card into her bra. Trail then turned through the panhandle where the local denizens of the dark were off put by the Gypsies who looked even odder. Tits 4 Hire dressed as a fairy godmother must have looked very real to the local rummies as several yanked out teeth in the hopes of her dumping a quarter on them. Turing bright green all she dumped on the gummies was her lunch. Booger Hooker a less attractive Borg than either the real or Silicone Valley Six of Nine fought a gallant rearguard action allowing her to fly to safety. Sorely in need of alcohol to wash the thought of that from their half minds the pack was glad to arrive at the first appointed alcohol check in the parking lot of the Cala Foods at Stanyan and Haight where their hares had provided Bacardi Limon as refreshment. While the pack was imbibing Just Ira dressed as an Ayatollah clone took Tits to task for being a tad to lax with her wand. Waving the said wand Tits turned him into the toad he really is. At this point a terrified Oral Roberts arrived. Dressed as a Roman legionnaire while *unning through the panhandle he’d been accosted by more Christs than he could count. Bag Lady eschewing her Nancy nerd costume warped into nurse mode calming him down and pouring so much rum into him that Oral made a pass at Rhett Butthole. Well of course Oral’s always been a tit man and Rhett dressed as Scheherazade had a pair big enough for two thousand and one Arabian nights. Only Just Sean looking like a low rent Zapata grabbing him by the hair saved him from drowning as Oral dived into that cleavage. As he came up for air it was time for the pack to move on. Strutting their stuff as they cruised down Haight the pack headed for the second check at the Chevron station on Fell and Masonic. The hares were ready with Skye vodka to wash the trail out of parched throats. By now that pair of butt pirates Nutless Sac, dressed appropriately with a useless sword, and Just Esther, looking less like pirate and more like Hercule Poirot at a Halloween party, were so offended by the actions of the pack that they chose to pass the check and spend their time at some jolly rogering in a darkened doorway. No one noticed as the crowd was more focused on a very toasted; well he was dressed as a baker, Who Said Head trying to get some of that from himself. Sadly he wasn’t quite as flexible as he thought. Tiger striped Escrowtum saved the day by unpretzeling him and allowing the pack to continue. Trail next took them over the top of Buena Vista Park where they were commingled with more of the local loonies this time on motorcys. LCB, again being the Boy Scout and so prepared had purchased some Boddington’s so the pack arrived at the beer check on Upper Terrace already primed. No Hands wearing his motocross gear but oddly out of place without a huge engine rumbling between his legs,,,hmm what would Meat Pie have to say about that… knew some of the other revelers but stayed to party with the pack. Drill Me wasn finding it hard to control Bite Size who took Likes To Lick’s Dalmatian suit seriously and was heavily panting after his waggily tail. Poor Open Wide as Cruella DeVille was unsure who’d get him out of his skin first. Even Phone Sex shaking her bonily skeletal ass at Bite Size couldn’t distract her from LTL… ah the power of puppy love. Having momentarily quenched their thirst the pack was once again off in pursuit of trail. Anthrax and arrows brought them to a small park where Twin Peaks becomes Clarendon and the hares had some dandy brandy to calm them down after yet another climb. Open Wide was definitely feeling no pain as she did a pole dance on a conveniently placed street sign. Speaking of poles Mr. Bone Jangles looking fine in his bus driver’s suit was busy trying to convince Beats Me to ride his. No fool she, Beats Me agreed but only if he provided a transfer. Brandy assisted in the unmasking of Dr. Kimble who as an invader from Mars had remained silent throughout the course of the evening. Of course once his mask was removed it was clear that the silence was the result of alcohol induced numbness. Making full use of his infirmity that little Devil Scarlett O’Hairy left him sucked dry on a tumbleweed patch. Scarlett is America’s first line of defense. From the park trail led to Chez Bigfoot and Gerbil for the on-on. Sadly Enter The Gerbil crashed and burned, a common thread for the weekend, just trying to get to his own house. Dressed as a Muslim cleric he was lucky to have made it that far. Just John who isn’t a doctor but was playing one this night quickly administered a syringe of tequila then sewed the lad back together. Unfortunately Just John had been imbibing himself leaving Bigfoot married to the Gypsy equivalent of the Winky-Wanky Bird. No one could tell how she was taking it since she was in full burkha. Speaking of Bigfoot she proved that she’s not a one trick pony being a Beer Bitch isn’t her only saving grace. Having single handedly cooked for the crew she is now not just a but the Food Bitch. While some groups pass putrid pasta off as the cuisine de hash the Gypsies dined on lamb stew, cheese bourek, egg plant salad, pilaf, and baklava. By the time he finished stuffing his face 5150 was able to dump the padding and still be a fat man. Overcome by the sight of all that food Fits In decided to really take her costume as a butcher to heart and headed off to wring the turkey’s neck. Happily for Tongueless Cupcake, while dressed as the Scarecrow from Oz, still had enough of a brain to disarm her. Speaking of Fits her Sacred Bucket of River Madness had the proper effect. Even though Splat was dressed as one it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell he’d soon be down with Toxic Cock Syndrome. Chickless Boner outdid himself by dressing as a cross between Howard Stern and one of his necrophiliac dates. King Rongjon looking like a dissipated Clint Eastwood was in fine fettle administering down-downs while wielding the Sword Of Power. Almost as lethal was the spear DipC Shit was wielding as part of his minority stereotyping costume. As the number of Sword condoms (spell that empty cups) grew along the length of the Sword people came into their own. Dick Chick dropped the brick she’d been carrying all evening as a handicap for her speed and switched to a witchy woman dress that left Go Nad, either a lumber jack or a poor excuse for Bruce Springsteen, in a position to pole vault across the room. DC definitely put the slink in slinky. DC wasn’t the only slinky thing as Manhandler dressed as a gypsy clearly showed why any man would be willing to cross her palm with silver. No special powers were needed to read 3 Ball J’s mind but it was obvious that Manhandler would be holding the whip hand even though he was cuming as Indiana Jones. The Sacred Bucket was emptied and the keg was drained dry by early Friday morning. First reports placed the casualty count high. On to the Only the Strong Survive Pub Crawl. Stay tuned for Chapter Two. Cheers.