Run #459 Whatever Happened to Lois Lame?

Dick Chick and McTaco promised to lead the pack into dark and mysterious parts of the city last Thursday night but they never mentioned the pack would be *unning through San Francisco’s version of the Bermuda Triangle. Somewhere in the dark and cold Presidio Lois Lame was swallowed, a reversal of roles, by the night. Not even Elliot could smell her out, not all the noses of all the dogs could provide a clue to Lois’ whereabouts. Gary Condit where are you when we need you? It all started well enough. Our hares brought the pack to heel at Laurel and California. Virgin Just Kathy announced that she wanted to be called The Librarian so it was only fitting that she provide the religious experience of the evening. Bearing a striking resemblance to the heroine of the week’s parable in the Sacred Missal our latest blonde acquisition was able to choke out a credible performance between her “Oh my gods.” Still from the look on her flushed face as she finished the reading it was clear that she’d take some performance enhancing tips away for her effort. Their souls cleansed the pack was off on trail. Trail took the pack to a check at Euclid where as is wont these day the first check chopped the head off the chickens. The check fed into a circle jerk that had the majority of jerks circling. Elissa cast her lot with Tongueless, Fits In and the flour sniffing noses of Whippet In and Whippet Out. Of course casting your lot with this crew is akin to tossing your steering wheel out the window during a game of chicken. Trail eventually turned towards the Presidio for all except Dickless Namehole who applied his patent pending system for ending up nowhere near trail and spent an entertaining evening in Golden Gate Park fending off homeless drunks who based on his accent confused him with Crocodile Dundee. Drill Me was quite upset that she hadn’t followed Dickless since the last time she ended up with him Bite Size had free meat for a week. True trail went into the Presidio where a song check allowed Likes To Lick to lead a spirited sing along of yet another mindless hash song at the vista point on Arguello. The song ended and their throats parched from singing the pack was off on a mad dash for the promised beer check. Marks would have speeded the process but our hares preferred to let the pack use the tried and true method of staggering about aimlessly until trail is accidentally found. In an act of compassion that may take her years to live down Dick Chick actually let the pack know when it missed a turn arrow. Her kindness so overwhelmed Open Wide that she fell to her knees clutching Dick Chick’s hand and weepily thanked her for her kindness. Our hares had conceived an eagle/turkey split that sent the eagles down Lovers’ Lane while the turkeys gobbled along behind the houses leading out of the Presidio to the beer check at Lyons and Pacific. Thumper concerned about the whereabouts of Latex Dreams found his fears quenched as easily as his thirst by that fourth beer. When Phone Sex asked if he’d seen her it was clear that Thumper was having trouble remembering just who Latex was. Sharif [sic] and the completely unmemorable woman who made him cum were late arrivals having taken the idea of Lovers’ Lane seriously. A straight shot brought the pack back to the parking lot behind Laurel Village where Nutless Sac had set up the bar. The Sacred Bucket was filled with vodka tonics and the cocktail hour was struck. Glory Hole arrived too late to trot but not to drink. He really needed a few cups of punch having cum from a hard day of flashing at children’s play areas. GH was in such a rush to get to the Bucket that he was still wearing his long flasher’s coat but since there were no toddlers about he’d put on shorts. Chickless Boner had newboots Kate and Charlene salivating at his description of all the young men at the Whine & Chowder Society until he mentioned gleefully that most of them were poofs. While the ladies’ seemed deflated newboot Bruce’s interest seemed piqued. Down downs were handled by a well oiled and armed King Rongjon. Swaying slowly to his inner music the Gypsies’ liege lord pointed his Sword Of Power at any offender who caught his eye; most were women. Nutless Sac tossed Chrissie into the pot and she definitely raised the King’s ante. Newboots Charlene, Kate, and Bruce proved that lameness knows no gender. Captain Titanic visiting from the Mt. VernonH3 soon found the Sacred Bucket as deadly as his namesake found an iceberg. No Hands ran sans Sammy but there were enough dogs for him to get a pooch fix with his pints. Spanky and Twinkle Dick would have been safer had they been attended by keepers with leashes as by evening’s end both were unable to do more than rollover and drool. Speaking of drooling Scarlett O’Hairy was drooling over her latest import virgin Vincent. How sad she must have been to find him paying more attention to Manhole’s new pooch Otto. Oh well, Scarlett, bestiality is best. SCAF came alone rumor has it that until he learns to sit up and beg Handjob For Humanity he’ll be doing that a lot. Dick Chick kept threatening to tear herself away and head for Tahoe but the siren song of the Bucket held her fast. Towel slung around her hips in finest Dorothy Lamour fashion she was busy vamping Muff Snatcher and whispering that he was her only man. Somehow she managed to avoid mentioning the dogs, horses, and oh yes, the water buffalo she’s been seen cavorting with lately. Daniel was clearly under her spell as he brought her a tart for her own pleasure and knowing the woman, a bag of peanuts should she cum across a horny elephant. With the Bucket depleted those who could still crawl made their way to Pasta Pomadoro. Oh what at tangled web we weave when trying to knit drunk. Cheers.