Run #429 Someone’s in the Kitchen with Drill Me
Last
week was a busy one for those involved in the Gypsies’ Summer
Solstice Pagan Fest held on Thursday night at Ocean Beach. While
our hares Fucking Pesto Chicken and Enter
The Gerbil were desperately consulting Dickless
Namehole’s Big Book of Haring Drill Me
was spending her evenings checking out The White Trash Guide to
Bitchin’ Bar BQs. Good students that they are our hares
learned their lessons well. Of course Dickless would have had
to lower the hares’ grade just a tad since there were portions of
the trail that were visible to the naked eye and actually spots where
trail could be followed by even those with half a mind, but then no
one is perfect. Drill Me arrived toting enough crap to
qualify as a street person in Arkansas. Barking orders like a
demented drill sergeant she had normally slothful Gypsies like
Wankers Island lifting barges and toting bales. Of
course knowing that failure to obey could lead to becoming Badger’s
dinner de jour didn’t hurt. It was amazing to see Just Lois;
apparently named Clap Trap by the Whine & Chowder
Society (should we be distributing condoms), hauling those concrete
blocks around but then fear is a great incentive. The evening’s
grace was read from the Sacred Missal by bashful Liquor
Up, LCB’s visiting squeeze from AlohaH3. Quaking with
either fear or embarrassment, one’s as good as the other, she gave
the pack something to be thankful for before they had to face the
trail. Trail dropped down to the beach to immediately climb up some
boulders back out to the Great Highway. Those who preferred wet feet
to boulders continued along the beach through the surf to easier
climbs. Trail proceeded along the Great Highway to Fort Funston where
the pack dissolved into its usual headless chicken crossed with a
lemming mode. T/BC, Fits In, and Whippet
In and Whippet Out apparently missed the mark
sending the pack down and spent an interminable amount of time
looking for a down go while hurling insults and blaming each other
for missing what certainly was an obvious mark. Fits In,
of course, had the final word as a strategically placed leash sent
T/BC rolling down the sand dunes like the proverbial snowball
in Hell. Landing on Skyline Blvd. he collided with a couple more
members of the legion of the lost Chickless Boner and
D’anglin Anglin. A quick tour around Lake Merced also
brought them in contact with Shaggy Dog and Whine &
Chowder wanker Scrotisserie who found themselves befuddled by
Pesto and Gerbil’s use of such arcane marks as the
male and female symbols. These were either to signify some sort of
eagle/turkey split or direct needy pack members to the appropriate
restroom. No one ever figured it out. Happily all roads, no matter
how bizarre, led back to the start and a Sacred Bucket
filled with Zombies. Some, like Just Lauren, found the
taste a trifle strange at first but found that over time, like so
many things, the taste could be acquired. Lauren acquired
enough of a taste that by evening’s end her eyes were spinning like
fruits in a slot machine. Poor Just Bob was so
fascinated that he kept pulling on her arm and waiting for three
cherries to show up. Pesto gathered all the deadwood together
for a bonfire and adding just enough lighter fluid to torch your
average warehouse he lit up the night sky. T/BC was able to
convince Bitch In Heat that nude fire jumping
was a time-honored tradition. Bitch proceeded to give a whole
new meaning to smoked oysters. While others were flippin’ out Drill
Me was flippin’ burgers. Watching others work is so
relaxing. Sadly, Drill Me over bought on the veggie
burgers forgetting that the Gypsies are more carnivorous than
other groups and want some meat to clog their arteries while alcohol
kills their livers. As always there were those who eschewed the *un
and came for the cocktails. Voyeur was a late arrival and
brought John. Did this signify that so many women have dumped
him that he’s giving men a chance to follow suit? Shaggy
made Just Nick2 cum could he and Voyeur be planning a
foursome? McTaco brought his dad Jerry. Lucky for them
that Elliot was strong enough to haul both of them back to the
car. Well the acorn doesn’t all far from the tree or in McTaco’s
case the olive far from the Martini. Speaking of dogs Sammy
was there to tear up the beach and slurp up as many down-downs as he
could. No Hands is seriously considering taking him to
AA meetings. Oh what fools we mortals be, Nutless Sac
is so naive that he brought not only his wife, Anna Luisa
but also friends Brian and Krysel. They were foolish
enough to bring their son John. On the other hand during
down-downs Krysel waxed eloquent about her most bizarre sexual
experience and the circle was held spellbound. Hearing her describe
something that involved spike heels and scrotum stomping brought
beads of sweat to many a male forehead. As you can tell Gerbil
by now had a well-lubricated pack circled up and was dispensing
down-downs with a vengeance. Having been away for so long Gets It
In The End was called forth to drink and explain her absence. Her
plight brought a tear to many and eye. It seems her spouse Throbbing
Vessel has banned her from hashing. Having taken a stab at being a
hasher and failing, he’s decided that it is childish and sexist.
Well duh, what was his first clue, D’anglin Anglin
screaming “tits out for the boys” in front of that convent?
Rugburns it seems is having a similar problem with her S O.
Sleeping with the sense of humor impaired is a true cross to bear.
While heart strings were being plucked Open Wide was
working the crowd still looking for a mouth in bad enough shape to
launch her dental hygienist career. Likes To Lick is nothing
if not loyal the way he was holding down drunks like I R Stupid
so OW could get that tiny mirror into their mouths. Not that
OW was in such great shape. While Likes To Lick was
holding down Whine and Chowder harriette Wrong Hole,
OW, well, wrong hole isn’t just a name anymore. As long as
we’re getting physical we can’t forget that Just Nick
was busy down-downing because his doctor has told him not to spend so
much time on his knees. By now Shithead was sleeping soundly
in the sand. We just hope that Scarlett O’Hairy and
Phone Sex dug him back out before they left. Not that
it’s the first time he’d wake-up with his mouth gritty. There was
so much sand in the down-downs that he’ll have plenty of company.
Enough Zombies had entered the system that clothes were being shucked
and bodies heaved into the surf. Pesto was one of the first
into the cold water but as Bigfoot noted you can’t shrink
what isn’t there. Dick Chick found herself pursued by
the Grim Rimmer and Chickless Boner.
That’s something akin to being caught between Harpo Marx and Jason.
Lucky for her their attention was diverted into a debate over who had
the rattier bathrobe. By evening’s end it was clear that many a
head would be hurting in the morning and there were those who would
have gladly allowed King Rongjon to sever theirs but he
was in much the same shape and the hand that normally wields the
Sword was too shaky to get a cup to his lips. On the other
hand Scrotisserie who spent the evening with a bottle of
Crystal Geyser clutched in his fist would be clean and sober, how
sad. Nine gallons of piss, two gallons of Zombies, and all Drill
Me’s good cooking later the Gypsies were MMM MMM
good. Cheers.