Run #448 Just Jerkin’ Around

Not satisfied with wreaking his havoc on the Whine & Chowder Society and certain that misery does love company the Reverend Itchy Stick decided to extend his cruel and unusual sense of humor to encompass the Gypsies and turn Thursday night last into one of pain and horror. The Reverend wishing to assure that the acorn not fall far from the tree incorporated Piss Pot and Thumb the fruit of his loins in his diabolical endeavor. Oh the things these children have to look forward to, does Merle Haggard singing I Turned 21 in Prison Doing Life Without Parole ring a bell. As if it hasn’t suffered enough from Gypsy insanity the parking lot at the Randall Museum was the gathering place for the pack. The pack was graced by the presence of Muffaleta from the BostonH3. While she provided the evening’s religious service sometimes haltingly it was clear that the halts were to absorb the undertaken actions for undertaking later with whoever might be available. She was awarded the page to use for future reference and as a study aid. Comes Slowly was at a lose since the action involved both genders performing in mind and body contorting combinations. Knowing how impressionable Sadie is Comes was concerned about what Sadie would try once they got home. Having received its dose of religion the pack was off downhill; for the last time. The first check saw the appearance of the headless chicken as the pack dissolved. Tongueless, Just Jason, Muffaleta, and Phone Sex found themselves lost and alone. Fits In having managed to work late yet again arrived just before the start and sans *unning clothes ended up as sweep. Taking Whippet In and Whippet Out along with her she denied Tongueless the use of their flour tracking noses assuring that he and his little band would become the lost patrol of the evening. Nutless Sac decided to tag along with her guaranteeing that the only two people who know the combination to the beer truck would be gone when they were needed most. After consulting an ouija board, several crystal balls, and the entrails of a sheep trail was found. Odd since the hare had used enough flour for Willie Brown to think Osama had been here. LCB had already found trail but as usual would rather contract anthrax than call on-on and disappeared into the night. A series of circle jerks lasting somewhat less than a week brought those who hadn’t already lost their half minds to Buena Vista Park and yet another check where D’anglin Anglin for the first time in living memory actually stayed on trail. By this time Phone Sex and Muffaleta couldn’t control their need for alcohol and headed in leaving Just Jason and Tongueless to wander through the wilds of the park. Their adventures rivaled those of Odysseus but are too lewd to be recounted here. Rumor has it that a book is in the works. Meanwhile about a third of the pack managed to make it to the beer check halfway up Twin Peaks. Icehole, a Whine & Chowder blast from the past, had hooked up with the sweeps and spent the time describing his childhood in San Francisco in such excruciating and mind numbing detail that Nutless Sac begged a passing member of SF’s finest to put him out of his misery. Speaking of SF’s finest Wankers Island decided to have a tiff with them and vowing never to be taken alive apparently did quite a bit of damage using an inebriated Spanky as his weapon of choice. A greater warrior he was able to escape Xena’s fate and made it back to continue drinking. Shithead observing the altercation and its aftermath wisely headed back to his car and home. Eventually even the most lost were found and the parking lot was turned into the Gypsies’ living room and bar. Love Monkey living with the Reverend on a daily basis and knowing full well what he’s capable of doing avoided being on trail and arrived in time to drink and protect the kiddies from further embarrassment at their father’s hands. The Sacred Bucket was filled with a deadly combination of rum, brandy, and cider. A greedy Cream Filled Buns was an early casualty and Just Dan licking his lips lasciviously as he heaved her into the back seat of his car was thankful for her greed. Just Hans was having similar thought about Semen Monster but as a more practiced Bucket aficionado Semen was last seen dragging him off by the ankles. How like a ripe melon his head sounded each time it thumped the pavement. Speaking of thumping Thumper was back after a two year hiatus in the land of the married. The way he was looking at Tits For Hire there was no question about what was going on in the mind of this married man. The temperature having dropped below 90 degrees Naked Hasher was, of course, chilled to the bone and instead of just downing a few cups of antifreeze headed back to the sauna he euphemistically calls his home. Rumor has it that he thinks he’s an orchid. Just Doesn’t Get It, yet another Whine & Chowder old timer, was so hammered by the Bucket that he was rigid in fact Badger took him for a tree and used him. The really sad part is that Drill Me made the same mistake. Chickless Boner also arrived late and wearing his Army sweatshirt, uh oh, if he’s “all that he can be” it’s time to be very afraid. At this point Enter The Gerbil assumed his position as King’s Fool and proceeded to earn yet another increase on the MADD price on his head by getting a bunch of drunks even drunker. Down-downs were administered from a bottle that had something to do with Boone’s Farm and left even Scarlett O’Hairy looking green. He tried to give one to Manhole and Open Wide but by then they were sitting back to back just to stay upright. They looked like the Mutt and Jeff of bookends. Instead Just Rich got to do a pair for them. Apparently the last one was too rich for Rich and the ensuing spew was spectacular if he was going purely for distance. Poor Just Jason on top of the rest of the evening he wasn’t wearing his goalie’s mask when it hit. Bigfoot was too stunned to belch but was soon picking over the big chunks. The sight of that was enough to produce a few big chunks from Rhett Butthole. His serene highness King Rongjon Sword Of Power in hand closed the evening with a toast “to absent friends.” Those who could still find an appetite went off to the Mira Loma Club. Hee! Cheers.