Run #444 Night of the Silent Circle

Last Thursday’s trail witnessed the passing of another year in the life of our glorious King Rongjon. The pack was gathered at the King’s own Palace on LaPlaya for an evening’s entertainment. Having been the victim of profiling by his neighbors and fearing a visit from antiterrorist forces if he maintained the usual decibel level for an event at the palace the pack was requested to gather across the street for its religious service. No need to worry about decibel level as Just Katie, spell that just pathetic, refused to read. The pack begged her, pleaded with her, and threatened her but the diminutive douche bag insisted her virginal lips could never pronounce the necessary words. If her inability to wrap her tongue around a few harmless words is any indication she’ll be saving money by never needing more than a single bed, although Chickless Boner did offer to fuck her senseless on the basis that she wouldn’t be too different from his usual run of the mill corpses. Sadie did at least hump her leg. T/BC attempted to read from the Sacred Missal but poor vision being just one of his infirmities the attempt failed when he couldn’t read the words. Comes Slowly was shocked that he couldn’t just do it from memory but alas memory failure has joined his other system failures. Forced to begin the trail with saddened souls the pack was on-on down the bicycle path along the Great Highway. A check at Lincoln took them across the street and into the dunes of Ocean Beach and back in the direction they’d cum. The trail proved shorter than King Rongjon’s attention span although that lack may explain why the trail was so short. Fucking Pesto Chicken in his never ending fight to stave off being ravished by women chose to continue *unning long after common sense dictated he should have switched to drinking. FPC is the only wanker in history to turn hashing into a way to avoid meeting bimbos. On the other hand LCB was playing the sympathy fuck game to its hilt with crutches and a leg wound more tightly than Just Katie. Nice try LCB but unfortunately most of the sympathy went to Tongueless who while looking for trail with Beats Me momentarily shifted his eyes from the treacherous concrete to her beauteous butt and took a header shedding real blood. Whippet In and Whippet Out were driven into frenzy by the smell of blood and thought of the insurance money. Beats Me slung the barely conscious Tongueless over her shoulder and dumped him in front of the Palace where Semen Monster gently ministered to his wounds. She doused the wound in iodine then proceeded to rip off her T-shirt to stanch the blood. At the sight of her bared breasts Grim Rimmer dashed into the kitchen and doused himself in ketchup hoping to win her sympathy. Instead Semen Monster just swiped her hamburger across his chest and downed it in a single bite. While pain and suffering were being dealt with at the front of the Palace alcohol abuse and eating were taking place in the rear. Shaggy Dog using a mind meld with a late arriving Fits In, now isn’t that a scary thought, was busy mixing the components for River Madness in the Sacred Bucket, and tasting them until he keeled over. Just Dave, a contribution for the bimbos from Open Wide, was demonstrating his culinary skills by flipping burgers. Handjob For Humanity having drunk deeply from the Bucket was busy exclaiming over the size of the wieners on the grill, does this say something about her or SCAF. Stiffy always ready to lend a hand or any other part of his anatomy led her off to a darker spot where he promised to show her a wiener she really could be in awe of, dreamer. Speaking of dark places and even darker deeds Open Wide and Likes To Lick were off in the shadows where their activities went unseen but not unheard. D’anglin Anglin has the tape and is willing to make copies. Inside the Palace Snakeless was holding forth on the whys and wherefores of women to an audience consisting of other lads who have failed to be laid in the 21^st Century. Perhaps Just Nick and Just John should seek counsel elsewhere. This is the scene that greeted Just Katie and her *unning mate Get The Sausage In from FrankfurtH3 when they returned from trail. Just Katie overwhelmed by the level of testosterone and estrogen in the Palace fled into the night. Sadly since she was driving GTSI also had to leave. Actually Just Katie disappeared not a moment too soon since Bigfoot and Drill Me having conspired on trail to feed her sorry ass to Badger were last seen in hot pursuit of her car. Dipsea Shit just shook his head and ran back to Marin and the safety of his hot tub; unfortunately he left his car at the Palace. The Sacred Bucket strikes again. Speaking of the Bucket, Nutless Sac deciding that perhaps it would be wise to spend at least one Thursday this year in his own bed studiously avoided any contact with the Bucket instead choosing to spend his time cringing in the parlor and chanting the mantra, “I will stay sober tonight.” I R Stupid instead embraced the Bucket, since that’s all he had to embrace, and was last seen breathing deeply and evenly on the King’s compost pile where Dog Dish tripped over the body. Napoleon, that international man of mystery and GM of the PipelayersH3, made a rare appearance then proceeded to tell everyone that if he talked to them he’d have to kill them. Scarlett took one look at him and decided he’d be worth dying for, yet another example of the Bucket strikes. At the King’s request there was no circle leaving Enter The Gerbil at loose ends. He solved the problem by administering a single down-down to Fucking Pesto Chicken who received his long overdue 100 *uns Shirt. Dead Dick was so toasted that he actually tried to eat Cupcake, much to Cupcake’s surprise but not necessarily displeasure. The sight did drive Wankers Island even further into the arms of the Bucket. He left on the arms of Pied Piper, his Yellow Lab, and Uncle Fucker who were debating just how much they could auction him for in the Castro. Happy Bday King. Cheers,