NOTE: It was brought to your scibe’s attention that he completely failed to discuss the toe sucking extravaganza that took place at Handjob and SCAF’s *un. And it came to pass that T/BC was called forth to judge the merits of Handjob’s toes versus Dick Chick’s toes. Bigfoot announced for all to hear that only Gerbil sucks her parts. Gourmet toe sucker that he is T/BC provided the following review:

Handjob: oakey with a hint of tar between the toes and an aftertaste of grit.

Dick Chick: smooth and creamy obviously pumiced with a cherry finish to her big toe.

Run #426 There’s Always Room for Jell-O

The pack that gathered in front of El Toro Loco in Pacifica last Thursday night waited with bated breath. Would Wankers Island and Scarlett O’Hairy have learned from experience or would this be another evening of “March or die?” Chickless Boner was once again exhibiting the behavior that leaves his boner chickless. Just Lauren having promised favors for a ride was solicited by Chickless but when push came to shove he left her dry and wanting. She came by herself. With no hares in sight and only a cryptic message about what not to expect, clearly false, the pack turned to religion for solace. Newboot Nick handled the Sacred Missal with aplomb. Rock steady, as well as hard, he gave a gender bending sermon that left Sticky Pants with...well, sticky pants. No hares were apparent but a sign had been given and the pack was off only to be met with an eagle/turkey split at the very start. The eagles soared and the turkeys trotted. Not so strangely there was more trotting than soaring. Trail led through a schoolyard up steps and into the land of stubble, ticks, and poison oak. It also went uphill and then uphill again. There are those who hash with their feet and those who hash with their heads. Bigfoot and Enter The Gerbil have one of each in their family so while ETG was busy slogging up the hill Bigfoot was off with T/BC, Fits In, and Comes Slowly following the fire road around the mountain. With Whippet In and Whippet Out sniffing for flour the thinking hashers were soon on the downside of the trail and romping into the promised Jell-O shots. They were soon joined by I R Stupid who proved to be not nearly as dumb as he looks, not that anyone could be. Those who chose exercise over intellect made it to the summit to be met with some Anheuser-Busch faux beer and adding insult to exertion it was the lite variety. True those few, those sweaty fools also received some plastic beads for their effort. D’anglin A’nglin suggested that they be used to lynch the hares for alcohol abuse, Anheuser-Busch indeed. While the foot sore pack was swigging swill the fire road brigade was face down in green and orange Jell-O sucking up vodka and preparing for the journey home. Guilty and burning with courage fueled by vodka Comes Slowly chose to fly like an eagle on the eagle/turkey split that graced the end of the trail while her fellow turkeys chose to trot on-in. Having not just shortcut but veritably massacred the trail our bravos found themselves waiting for D’anglin A’nglin to appear with the keys to his van and the alcohol. Once again the Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber of the Gypsies, D’anglin A’nglin and Nutless Sac, had locked the piss in a truck that no one but Houdini could have entered. How sad, the SCBs were forced to plunge their faces into yet more vodkaized Jell-0, red this time. At long last the Anheuser-Buschies were back and serious drinking begun. The hares in keeping with their tradition filled the Sacred Bucket with Hurricanes and watched as the pack got blown away. Having given the pack enough time for the dust to settle and throats to be moistened our hares whisked the pack into El Toro Loco where Jose had once more provided a meal of Jambalaya and corn bread. Adam, some vague sort of family member and just 18 ably assisted Jose. The Bucket soon took its toll on Adam and he was puking with the best of them. How sad to see Open Wide and Dick Chick fighting over the body. Only Dickless Namehole’s quick intervention prevented mascara shed. Meat Pie and Comes Slowly were busy in the corner putting away enough red wine to make them honorary bag ladies. Down-downs were performed in the restaurant and Jose assured the hares that insurance would cover that portion of the floor eaten away by spillage of the cursed potions. Enter The Gerbil was in a particularly drunken mood and Just Nick found himself being turned into a sobriety check poster child. In honor of the *un theme King Rongjon held the floor with a rendition of Clint Meets the Gay Caballero that rocked the restaurant. By this time Open Wide was desperately trying to pull the pants off a life size cardboard caballero cutout and Dick Chick and Sticky Pants were betting she’d do it. The Grim Rimmer was back and suddenly women were finding Chickless Boner minimally less disgusting. Just Lauren was busy shilling for breast cancer research but still refusing to bare hers for science. If Gerbil had given her anymore down-downs she’d have been embalmed. Uncle Fucker was ultra cool face down in his Jamabalaya making burbling noises. Alison saved him by hauling him out of the plate by his hair. Bigfoot led the chants to drop him back in. Wankers and Scarlett, Bill Cosby would be proud. Cheers.