Run #418 Who Pissed in the Hot Tub?
It
was colder than a tombstone and the wind was up to its usual howl as
the Gypsies gathered at the parking lot of the Randall Museum
for their annual exercise in self-absorption and liver worship. Not
having a Mismanagement Committee means being able to abjure the
trapping of an Annual General Meeting and have an Anal Grand
Mockery, much more in keeping with the Gypsies’
style. King Rongjon made his usual last minute appearance and
dashed off claiming to be setting the trail live. Sweat puddling at
his feet and trailing off behind him put the lie to that. Moira
stepped up to the plate and hit one out of the park with her reading
from the Sacred Missal. Her rendition was so heartfelt
that it popped Shaggy Dog’s pustule, now maybe it can
heal and wouldn’t that make Snakeless happy. With thoughts
of free beer, a hasher’s favorite kind, and food dancing through
their half minds the pack was off up Museum Way. The trail was well
marked, an unusual occurrence of late, allowing even D’anglin
A’nglin to stay within the city limits. Trail eventually
passed Finigan’s Wake where an ever thinking Enter The
Gerbil caught the King downing pints. T/BC as
blind as Gerbil is bright also went in but never saw King
Rongjon who was hiding behind two enormous women he’d been
chatting up. Fits In had suggested that he bring Duncan
and Parker along in search of eau de majesty but was ignored
much to the joy of the sensitive nosed hounds. As the trail tugged
them towards Twin Peaks the pack enjoyed a series of circle jerks and
false trails that put Fits In, Don, and T/BC
in the position of FRBs. Luckily this stain on their escutcheon was
soon erased by the thundering hoofbeats of those not competent to
short cut. Having set a well-marked trail the King had the joy
of seeing the pack arrive at the start close together meaning that
alcohol would begin to flow early. The Sacred Bucket
was filled with Bengal Lancer’s Punch, the traditional AGM poison
and the bacchanal begun. King Rongjon, Sword Of
Power in hand, commanded his Fool to open the circle
and Enter The Gerbil, belled cap ringing called the minions to
order. Down-downs were composed of scotch and tequila both aged for
at least an hour. Bag Lady and Dr. Kimble were
honored for having missed so many trails. By the time they’d
finished their down-downs and pounded the Bucket it was a
miracle that they were alive let alone made it to a trail. Half an
hour after they left the parking lot they were still there thanks to
Dr. K not bothering to turn the key in the ignition. Bag
Lady can sure go vroom, vroom, vroom well. Everytime Bigfoot
belched Dr. K complained about the damn engine backfiring.
Handjob For Humanity was down-downing in honor
of reaching that 28th day without PMSing Scabass
Faggot or SCAF as she calls him into oblivion. Virgins
Sean, Rich, and Lois were tossed into the
grinder. Apparently Rich weighed 23 pounds at birth and when
he was circumcised he dropped to 17 or so he claimed or so your
scribe heard. Lois was clad in a black trench coat leading
Wankers Island to assume she was a flasher. Sadly she
hadn’t a joke, a song, or even a body part to show for her efforts.
ETG just declared her lame and tossed he back onto the trash heap of
history. Naked Hasher having made her cum tried to
defend her honor by showing a body part of his own but no one was
interested. The King was conned into an acapella rendition of
Clint Meets the Gay Caballero that produced some kind
of body fluid from Glory Hole but since it hasn’t
been analyzed no one is quite sure what kind it was. Gerbil
led the pack in swearing another year of fealty to our liege lord. He
also produced a doctor’s statement attesting to the health of the
royal liver to which a health was drunk. Down-downs done, allegiance
once more sworn, and proper healths drunk the movable feast moved on
to Captain Dickhead and Snakeless’ abode where
a final toast was drunk to the two virgins who disappeared on trail
and who are now are in the Tomb of the Nameless Virgins. Fits
In had provided jerked chicken to calm the rumbling stomachs.
Fucking Pesto Chicken invited her to jerk his
anytime she liked. Fits In shot back that it would be a
waste since no one would eat it. Alcohol continued to flow and steam
rose from the hot tub. Dick Chick deep in her cups
decided to find out just how Hung Juror was hung but
the jury is still out since when last seen she was comatose. Speaking
of being in her cups Cream Filled Buns was so
far to the wind that she offered to get Soggy Biscuit a
new filling. Soggy was hoping to do some filling of his own by
going deep in philosophical discourse with Phone Sex.
T/BC having been in the steamer was strolling around in a
towel causing a toasted Lauren to announce that whales can
walk. Better Than Silicone was fascinated that she had more
hair in arm pits than T/BC has on his chest but she has more
hair in her pits than Snakeless has on his head. Speaking of
the hot tub Likes To Lick and Open Wide were
really enjoying that game of sub warfare with LTL trying to
put his torpedo into her. Teazemaid from the CardiffH3 arrived
late but not to late for Captain Dickhead to miss doing
some diving of his own in the tub Solo dived in and saved him
from drowning. Long live the King. Cheers.