Run #411 Return of the King

With apologies to J R R Tolkien last Thursday’s Gypsy trail saw the return of a very different kind of King. Having decided to step off the wagon King Rongjon and the Sword Of Power once more returned to the Circle. Like a cobra in the thrall of a snake charmer the pack was entranced by the rhythmic duet of man and metal. But back to the beginning. Enter The Gerbil invited the pack to experience another of his exercises in creative mayhem starting the trail at the parking lot of the Randall Museum. After several weeks wandering in the spiritual wilderness it was good to have Open Wide handling the Sacred Missal and turning a humdrum sermon into one that by her very tone set Likes To Lick wondering about apres hashing. Their souls cleansed and their minds sullied the pack was ready to be on-on but Gerbil had to explain his cornucopia of marks. Apparently no amount of marks would mean the pack was on until they actually saw the words on-on. It seems that Gerbil takes his inspiration for trail setting from Franz Kafka. By the time the hare’s directions were finished D’anglin A’nglin was whining about a migraine and Bigfoot was busy exercising plausible deniability and mumbling under her breath about divorce lawyers. Their half minds overstuffed with information the pack was on-on. A sprint over the top of Corona Heights brought the pack down to Roosevelt Way and Snakeless off to an adventure of his own. Trying to think like the hare is chancy at best and with Gerbil an act of insanity making Snakeless was the perfect candidate. The trail consisted of a large number of circle jerks leading to figure eights. A drink check took place at Kite Hill and those who persevered were treated Brazilian cane alcohol. Shithead was the first in closely followed by Fits In and T/BC who missed a key turn and ended up on Tank Hill looking for nonexistent alcohol. How sad that they had to start drinking before the rest of the pack. Blowing Zydeco, Naked Hasher, and visitors Methuselah and Ursula never made it back and were sorely missed until McTaco noted that it just meant more rum and hot cider from the Sacred Thermi for the rest. Hand Job For Humanity ever the humanitarian suggested Duncan, Parker, and Sammy try to find the losers but Sammy was more interested in lapping up spilled beer and Duncan and Parker were having a siesta. Having made an honest effort Hand and Scabass Faggot proceeded to lose themselves in drink. Boneless Chicken was failing to look studdly in his blue robe and sucking on a stogy but Shaggy Dog just drunk enough to be impressed by the size of cigar inquired if Boneless might want to suck on something else. Scarlett O’Hairy grumbled that he never asks her. Comes Slowly announced that she was “shocked, shocked, shocked”, all this licentiousness and would absolutely not take off her clothes unless someone asked. Dickless Namehole proceeded to not only ask but to offer to assist what a gent. Comes Slowly used Sadie as a way out, but with a wink. White Trash visiting from West BombayH3 whined that since his last appearance at the 300^th the Gypsies had become a *unning club, of course he was lying on the tarmac drooling rum at the time. Gerbil donned his jester’s cap and began distributing down-downs. Ah, the look on Dick Chick’s face as she forced down that delicious mug of Cherry Herring was worth a thousand words. Worth even more was the look on her face as it came back up. Camel Blower downed his cup of Framboise with nary a blink it could be the solid rum base he’d laid on. All these liqueur down-downs are courtesy of Dickless Namehole who kindly contributed to the Gypsy stock pile. Pied Piper wasn’t there again he was just a figment of No Hands’ imagination another ugly effect of too much demon rum. Nutless Sac was joined by his better half, more like his better two thirds, Anna Luisa proving that when one drinks they all drink. Speaking of Anna Luisa it took Jackoff ten minutes to reel back his tongue when he first saw her. Drinking was definitely a family affair as Craig and his dad Ted tossed a couple backs. Ted mooned the pack and Craig grounded him for a week. The Craig Stupidity Watch is now in its sixth week. The muse upon him our once and future King Rongjon drew forth his trusty sword, the metal one, and waxed eloquent. Newboot Marcy was so taken that she wanted to know if he was single. To ask that she must have been seeing double. She also offered to share a hotel with him in Goa or Des Moine for that matter. Hot Box who brought her was finally able to wrestle her back into her strait jacket. The pack eventually moved on the Magnolia. Long live the King and his liver. Cheers.