Run #1533 Johnny Appleseed at the Ol’ Log Cabin!

Manhole the Gypsies’ own Johnny Appleseed brought the pack together at the Log Cabin in the Presidio to start his trail. It’s hard to go wrong with the Log Cabin unless there is already an event there, oops. Instead, the pack gathered in the Stone St. parking lot. Our hare had spoken to the Log Cabin guests and been assured that by the time our trail was over they’d be gone. The Outbeer was carrying coals to Newcastle or at least a keg of Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ to a band of parched throated Gypsies and slipped right into a slot. Sadly, for Adopt A Pussy this was both not his favorite beer and it gives him a sour stomach, of course that just matches his disposition! Choke Me, Daddy on the other hand found the beer hitting her sweet spot, we won’t go into where that might be, and Yank Me, Daddy was there to keep her on leash, so to speak! Just Jeorgina was feeling the “Holy Spirit”, especially that last pint, as she preached to the pack from the Male Missal. A glaze eyed Tonya Hard On staggered off mumbling “thick and ropey” to herself. Manhole promised the pack that the trail was well marked and recommended that the pack stay on the trail he’d set unless suicide was really what they wanted to commit. Trail took the pack onto Storey Ave. and across Fort Scott Field and past Fort Winfield Scott. As trail ran around the YMCA Fort Scott Tennis Courts that font of wisdom Wash This Asshole let it be known that though he was known as the Grand Old Man of the Army, Scott, a Whig, had lost the Presidential election of 1855 to Franklin Pierce! TriCrapalete was profuse in his thanks for the information saying he’s always wondered who Pierce had beaten. Never let it be said that the Gypsies aren’t educational. Trail cut through some housing to Hitchcock St. named, according to WTA, after Alfred Hitchcock. Trail took the pack around the Immigrant Point Overlook and back down Washington Blvd. At Washington Blvd. and Lincoln Blvd., Backwash and On All Fours pointed out to WTA that Washington and Lincoln were among our better-known Presidents, and both remained straight faced! Tongueless swears he heard Exaggerated Crack mumbling, “When is this fucking history lesson gonna end and we can start drinking!” The pack managed to cross the road in the dark without becoming roadkill and chugged on along the California Coastal Trail. As the pack dribbled back into the parking lot Cuming Mutha insists, he was watching as Dr. Kimble ran to his car yelling, “Gentlemen, start your engines” so he could race back to the Log Cabin. Apparently, some people just have to be winners at something! Others took a more leisurely approach and still managed to be there when the keg was tapped. Fits In provided Sacred Thermi filled with hot cider and rum and the Cloak of Invisibility wasn’t even deployed! Instead, all the Vitamin J was laid out on a big stone table. 5 Angry Inches came *unning into the parking area having *un a lot more than the trail. He ran from SF General! It was touching to see Tonya Hard On spread out her bra so 5 AI could “break the tape”! 5150 mumbled, “Well, it looks like we have a winner!”  Speaking of 5150 he only managed to fill 8 growlers and WTA was able to get the last fart of beer from the keg. Yet another evening well wasted with the Gypsies. Cheers.