Run #428 Punishment Finds a Glutton

And Dickless Namehole cried out to the Hashing Gods “Please, don’t let me fuck up again.” And the Hashing Gods laughed. Need we say more? Oh well, all right. Last Thursday Dickless Namehole called the pack together at Gas House Cove in yet another effort to prove that the frontal lobotomy did not preclude him from setting a viable trail. The current debate centers on whether Dickless is the Gypsies’ answer to Job or just Larry, Moe, and Curly rolled into one huge stooge. Suffice it to say his latest effort did nothing to settle the debate. With a Dickless trail to look forward to the pack was sorely in need of religion. Celeste, Semenhole’s new squeeze, tenderly ministered to the pack. In one of his increasingly “senior moments” T/BC left the Sacred Missal at home and our low priestess was forced to read from the back up bible known colloquially as Bambi Gets a Boner. By the time Celeste finished Semenhole had joined Bambi. On the other hand I R Stupid, living up to his name, was still trying to figure out what happened to the deer. Spiritually cleansed the rest of the pack was ready to be on-on. Happily the hare, claiming the trail to be live was not there to see the next installment. True to history the pack missed his first mark cleverly dropped into the grass. When on-on was finally called the pack stayed together for more than a second, a new Dickless record. Trail moved down Marina Blvd. and at the first check turned the pack into the Marina where they could lose Dickless’ trail and end up following an old Whine &. Chowder death march route. Those who missed the first check found the second check at Marina and Doyle drive where they eventually found trail leading to the Palace of Fine Arts and a beer check personed (see how PC we are) by Nutless Sac and Just Carolynn. Being somewhat farther along the learning curve than your average amoebae Nutless has finally learned to leave the cooler back at the start, so FRBs, SCBs, and general wankers would have it. So much for those who insist he shares DNA with I R S. On the other hand neither of the checkers had the slightest idea where trail went and when the sad sack pack finally found a few marks they led back to the beer check. Newboot, Just George remained calm until the beer was gone then he broke into uncontrolled weeping over being lost and still thirsty. Pet da Cooter cradled his had on her breast and that seemed to calm him. Exchanging glances Shaggy Dog and Bitch In Heat began wailing (sometimes even small minds think alike). Sad to say there just weren’t enough breasts to go around. The wily Whippet In and Whippet Out finally found trail that was followed for a time by T/BC and Fits In. The combination of Fits In’s wiser head and her threat to withhold sexual favors finally convinced T/BC that they were on a fool’s errand and the turn toward home and booze was made. Arriving back at the start they found Bigfoot, Scarlett O’Hairy, and I R S busily turning the parking lot into a Gypsies’ bar cum homeless encampment. Between Bigfoot and I R S there is enough portable seating to outfit a small stadium. Drill Me still chagrined over the trail was busily taunting Badger with a bit of Dickless’ underwear smeared with liver (yet another early meal for Hannibal). Don’t even ask how the training tool had been obtained. The hare’s car being missing led to the ugly rumor that he’d realized his days were numbered and fled in terror to Paraguay having asked Hung Juror for a list of countries with no extradition treaty. Comes Slowly, another early arrival, finding that she’d forgotten her corkscrew panicked and dashed off to an earlier than usual AA meeting. While others were searching for trail Enter The Gerbil was spotted in the Marina Safeway one of San Francisco’s premier meet markets. Was he searching for trail or tail? We’ll just have to wait for Bigfoot to beat the answer out of him. Speaking of tail D’anglin Anglin was as usual off somewhere chasing his own. Phone Sex insists he could *un around the same block for an hour without a sense of deja vu. The Sacred Bucket full of rum punch was produced instantly guaranteeing a quorum would be formed. Enter The Gerbil still excited from his foray into melon squeezing forgot to don his chapeau of authority but no one was sober enough to notice. Circling the pack he delivered down-downs to the good, the bad, and the ugly. Speaking of ugly the pack was fairly ugly by the time the hare reappeared. Like the villagers in Frankenstein the pack dragged Dickless into the circle where he was subjected to almost as much abuse as he deserved. Jackoff arrived late but in the spirit of moment tossed a rope over his motorcy and offered to drag the hapless hare over every foot of the fabled trail. McTaco suggested instead that Uncle Fucker get to live up to his name with the hare once Badger and Elliot had finished. Waving the Sword of Power our gracious majesty King Rongjon interceded and spared both the hare’s life and rectum. Grinning cruelly he instead sentenced Dickless to listen to one of his interminable stories a fate that so hideous as to elicit a collective gasp of horror from the crowd. While in the mood to pardon sinners King Rongjon allowed I R Stupid to keep his head even though he’d tried to weasel out of his duties as Lord of Sobriety Checks. I R thanked him and immediately turned his attention to prying open Wet Clam visiting from Long BeachH3. Unfortunately he hadn’t allowed her to soak in the Sacred Bucket long enough. Screaming Orgasm appeared on a bicycle and proceeded to soak up enough Bucket for the bicycle to leave riding her. Smeg a wandering hasher from South Africa had just blundered into trail having only been in the city for half an hour. When last seen he was curled in the fetal position on the tarmac while quietly sucking his thumb, the Sacred Bucket strikes again. Phone Sex in her never ending search for sacrificial virgins sucked civilian Kimberly and her pooch Barrington into the circle. While Elliot kept Barrington busy ETG got Kimberly boozy. Rumor has it that Just K C enjoyed the Bucket so much that she was still bringing it up the next morning. Oh well she’s not the first and won’t be the last. Survivors were split between the Final Final and Buchanan Street Grill. The hare couldn’t even keep the pack on trail to the on-on-on. Sometimes even gluttons for punishment overeat. Cheers.