Run #441 Solace for the Stranded

It was a night of confusion and loss, of tears and remembrance. The Grim Rimmer continued to explore his ambiguous and ever-shifting sexual identity, with inevitably tragic consequences -- Shithead experienced his first erection in years, prompting him to seek immediate psychiatric help. And Tongueless, trapped on the other side of the continent, found himself for once speechless when a quick-thinking D.C. barman cut him off after his 19th pint. (Fits In, with the wisdom borne of long experience, somehow was able to make sense of Tongueless’s consonant-rich e-mail on the incident.)

Yet the evening was dominated by a worldwide air-traffic shutdown and a subsequent hunt for drunken relief that drove legions of the dispossessed into the welcoming arms of the Gypsies as they assembled by the Chain of Lakes. There was Stacker, unable to escape the scene of his previous week’s crimes as planned, forced to endure once more as the still-unsatisfied Scarlett O’Hairy lavished him with the affection for which she has become justly famous. Always Pays for Sex, pining for the cheap chippies of Shanghai, traded tips with McTaco on ways to get it for free, truly one of the shortest conversations in history. Me Joe Slut, another refugee from Asia, strapped on his hiking boots for what he was sure would be a grueling ordeal, little knowing that his greatest challenge would be dodging Badger after Drill Me decided that she would have this slut, come what may.

Visitors Stiffie and Sum Yung Guy claimed not to be stranded at all, but happened across the pack by accident when Fucking Pesto Chicken wheeled his SUV in a tight turn nearby, spilling an extensive collection of farm pornography and masturbation toys before them. Whine and Chowder Society newcomers Erection Denied, Gored Bush, Tick Dick and Just Jason were locked in an enthusiastic four-way until LCB happened by looking for anyone else who would swing his direction and dragged them to the start.

Our Hare, professional oral technician Open Wide, called the pack to order. Just Michele, a virgin incomprehensibly accompanying Sucks Donnie Osmond on what she had thought would be a simple chance to ravish him, thus fulfilling a fantasy from her childhood, gave a rousing reading from the Sacred Missal that left IR Stupid wishing he’d learned to read himself. Slapping aside Pied Piper’s roaming hands in favor of Likes to Lick’s reliable grip, Open Wide quickly set the pack on trail. Winding across Golden Gate Park, over hill and dale, the trail’s numerous checkpoints and scenic views delighted our visitors but bewildered Manhole, who eventually followed Dickless Namehole into the buffalo enclosure where a horny bull showed the two Gypsies what they’ve been missing.

Lois Lame, inexplicably unable to locate her Hash clothes, chose to run naked beneath her full-length overcoat, and arrived sweating but perky at the beer check on Sutro Heights. Sin Cojones was so aroused he asked Tits for Hire for relief; she referred him immediately to Handjob for Humanity, who archly informed him that visitors only get freebies their first time. Semen Monster said she’d rise to the occasion, but failed to take Sin Cojones’ name literally, and found to her regret that this particular tap had long since run dry. Fortunately Sperm Alley wasn’t far away, and Semen Monster soon declared the evening had not been a total loss.

Back at the start the Sacred Thermi made their seasonal re-appearance, and the Gypsies were soon downing hot rum-based drinks and beers. When the hard stuff began to run low Naked Hasher volunteered to find more, vanished in the general direction of the VA hospital and returned carrying a stash of Old Soldier’s Grog. The stuff proved as vile as it sounded, which didn’t prevent Bigfoot from knocking back half a bottle in celebration of her birthday. Enter the Gerbil threw her over his shoulder and said he’d be right back as soon as she’d been both emptied and filled. King Rongjon drew his Sword of Power and declared that the thought made his stomach hurt worse than the booze ever had. He proceeded to regale the pack with the oft-requested ballad of Clint and the Gay Caballero, bringing a dreamy look to the face of Open Wide and steam from the shorts of Dick Chick, who knows a thing or two about blowjobs on credit.

Soon the Circle was over and the pack retreated to the appropriately named Hockey Haven, where there was plenty of shooting but little scoring. Wanker’s Island reappeared in the company of the Hash-shy Just Alison, Nutless Sac bought drinks for the house, and soddenly inebriated Gypsies eventually dispersed in a flurry of missing gloves, missed love, dropped keys, drooping willies, loose cash and loose women. Several Gypsies were even reported to have made it back to their own homes somehow. On on.