Run #467 Don’t Spit into the Wind

Twisted clawlike hands rubbing together, grotesque cackling laughter, the hunched over figure dropping flour in Pacifica was either the Wicked Witch of the West or last week’s hare Rhett Butthole. Okay, it was Rhett; even the Witch wouldn’t have planned to set a death march through the darkened hills surrounding Pacifica. The weather seemed to accommodate our hare’s perspective on fun; cold and with a howling wind as the pack gathered in the parking lot of the Sharpe’s Park Golf Course. There are those who say that the wind was nowhere as wild as the week before but your scribe can’t know for sure as he was enjoying the balmy weather in Helsinki that week. With the wind tearing the words from his throat SCAF manfully provided religion from the Sacred Missal. One can’t be sure whether it was the impact of the sermon or just the cold but Just Corey’s nipples were certainly perky through the six or seven layers she was wearing. Too cold to care the pack was off into the night. Trail led them high into the hills overlooking Pacifica and along a ridgeline that exposed them to the brunt of the wind. In a desperate effort to once again win the hash LCB stripped off his shirt and holding it high above his head used it a sail to propel himself past slower and saner *unners. As they staggered or flew off the ridge the pack found itself an a bicycle path that led it into a parking lot where the hare had provided Jell-O shots for those who needed frozen antifreeze. Speaking of antifreeze Tongueless had consumed so much alcohol in Helsinki that his blood could still have been used as the complete components of a powerful Bloody Mary. As the sweat froze on their bodies the pack realized that survival came in the form of continuing to *un just to generate body heat. Glory Hole already had a thin sheet of ice coating him and had he remained in the parking lot much longer would have resembled an ancient artifact chopped out a frozen grave. By now Tongueless was becoming concerned that Fits In and Whippet In and Whippet Out had failed to appear. They along with Drill Me and Bite Size and Comes Slowly made up the walkers contingent. He calmed down considerably when Nutless Sac produced a tide table showing that were they to have been blown off the ridge into the ocean and drowned the tide would have carried them to shore making it easier for Tongueless to collect on the insurance. Trailing icicles from their shorts the pack was once more off into the night. Trail led them back uphill to a beer check where they consumed the amber fluid by straining out the icy bits through clenched teeth. Ice falling around them the pack made its way back to the start where Nutless Sac had circled the wagons as a windbreak. Tongueless’ dreams of rum soaked nights on Caribbean isles were dashed as he saw that Fits In had in fact survived the trail. She and Drill Me had found themselves overwhelmed by mutinous pooches who had insisted that a warm auto was preferable to a jaunt in the cold and wind. Not that the dogs had had to face much resistance. Comes Slowly along with Meat Pie who had arrived late had decided to make their own trail which both started and finished at the restaurant across the parking lot. Having consumed enough martinis to keep Tanqueray in business for years to cum they staggered into the circle to consume yet more alcohol. With the King still conducting delicate diplomatic missions in the far north Enter The Gerbil once again donned his Fool’s Cap and administered down-downs. A bottle of Goldschlager appeared as if by magic and combined with the Sacred Bucket filled with vodka tonics definitely took the chill out of the pack. Tongueless in an effort to both reduce his blood alcohol level and improve his scent wore a Goldschlager and two vodka tonics on his head. Open Wide was so toasty that she mistook Nutless Sac for Likes To Lick only to find that Nutless doesn’t like to lick. I R Stupid even more far gone offered to lick anyone interested but only Sadie seemed intrigued by the offer and a horrified Comes Slowly hustled her off to safety. D’anglin Anglin always a keen observer allowed as to how he could see a certain family resemblance between LTL and Nutless but then of course he was holding this conversation with a tree. Chickless Boner just back from Japan found that Bigfoot had bought him a welcome back present in the form of a matched set of ceremonial Hara-Kiri knives and directions on their use. By this time Captain Titanic once again visiting the Gypsies had quietly staggered off to answer a call to nature and ended up sleeping quietly in dumpster he’d fallen into. His hiding place was only found when enquiring minds noticed his disappearance and No Hands allowing Sammy to be used as a bloodhound tracked him to his lair. It took Sammy only minutes to find Capt. T sniffing out the Goldschlager he’d barfed down his wind jacket. Sadly El Toro Loco had suffered a burst pipe and Huevos had to close the joint so the pack was forced to dine on pizza somewhere in Pacifica. Cheers.