Run #470 Sexcalibur

Last Thursday was the A(nal) G(rand) M(ockery) the time when Gypsies once again swear unswerving fealty to our sovereign King Rongjon. What a King, okay so unlike Arthur he’s never had to pull his sword out of anything but then he’s never shoved it into anything either. So what if the parking lot of the Randall Museum isn’t quite Camelot at least the food and drink were a hashers favorite kind FREE. That magic word attracted hashers from as far away as Oregon in the form of Headqueen and Rockhard who brought the newest little hasher; six weeks old and already drinking breast milk mixed with beer. Son Of Shit also found the siren song of free food and drink impossible t resist so he once again graced the Gypsies with his presence. Performing his duty as hare King Rongjon, still frighteningly on the wagon, swore he’d set a trail to punish unbelievers and those who needed to lose weight. The BostonH3 gave the Gypsies Horse Butt Fucker to carry out the religious service for the week. The lanky lad found the Sacred Missal too much to deal with and his face the color of a fire engine he manfully tried to sound out words that described actions he’d only dreamt of while wanking. When Scarlett O’Hairy took him aside and offered to saddle him up and take him over the jumps his voice went up three octaves and cracked in a combination of fear and desire. With visions of Scarlett dancing through his head he joined the pack as it was on-on. Trail took the pack through and over the top of Corona Heights Park and down towards the Castro. In an act of either insane courage or the desire to increase his chances of a date on Saturday night Chickless Boner mooned the crowd on the corner of Castro and Market the ensuing riot left him with a sore ass and San Francisco’s finest with plenty of overtime pay. Shaft and Just Doesn’t Get It (how apropos) finally shoved their way through the sea of swinging meat and came to his rescue. While Drill Me and a frothing Bite Size fought a valiant rearguard action the pack dragging along the barely conscious but grinning CB hurried across Market and into the night. LCB took this as an opportunity to assume his rightful position as FRB and was off like a shot. Trail took the pack over the overpass across Market and up towards Twin Peaks. By now Tongueless had decided he knew where he was, a tragic error, and how to get back effortlessly. The long suffering Fits In and Whippet In and Whippet Out not sure but ever loyal followed along. Just Mark afraid to be separated from even this rag tag band foolishly decided to throw his lot in with them. Exhibiting the route finding skills that led to the death of almost everyone who ever trusted him in the mountains Tongueless proceeded to get the lost patrol hopelessly lost. As thoughts of the Donner Party crossed their fevered brains Fits In decided to assume command and ask for directions back to 17^th Street from whence she could find the start. As Just Mark held Tongueless in a strangle hold to prevent him from interfering and the hungry dogs gnawed at his leg Fits In saved the day. By the time the wanderers finally returned to the start the pack had already had a beer check and was restlessly awaiting the chance to dive into the Sacred Bucket. The Bucket was filled with the traditional Bengal Lancers’ Punch and the visitor from Boston along with the virgin he’d brought as a sacrifice to the Gypsy Bimbos, Just Matt, found it to pack more punch than they needed. Horse Butt Fucker still dreaming of Scarlett’s promise found himself legless as well as less other appendages when the time came to live out the dream. Dick Chick, wagging an admonishing finger, told Scarlett “That’s what you get for cradle robbing.” Completely oblivious to all this as she was to most things once she realized the Bucket contained red wine Comes Slowly was busy sitting with her back against the fence happily mumbling to herself. Overjoyed to be able to attend the Gypsies without needing an ironclad alibi for his ball and chain Pied Piper foolishly overindulged in the Bucket and when last seen his faithful Lab was desperately trying to lick him awake. You could practically see the bulb, a very dim one, light in Nutless Sac’s very drunk and horny mind as he poured beer on his dick and lay down next to Piper. The Lab was not to be swayed from his duty but Sammy showed a keen interest and Nutless was only moments from ecstasy when No Hands rescued the pooch from a fate worse than….well you know. D’anglin Anglin offered No Hands cash to let the show continue but Meat Pie nixed the proposition. An over the top Open Wide then suggested that Likes To Lick might live up to his name the thought was apparently more than he could take and LTL fainted at her feet. Clearly a diversion was needed and the Oath of Feelty served that purpose nicely. Standing erect under his own power the King held aloft the Sword Of Power and after a few words in praise of his wise and strong rule from Tongueless the assembled circle took the oath and drank the once and future King’s health. Overtaken by his heritage Glory Hole wept and declared Rongjon the most popular of the royals even in London. The King then began dispensing down-downs to those who’d earned them. At this point chose to return from trail insisting that a senior moment, more like a senior hour, was the cause for his delay. Ever the care giver Bigfoot turned her attention from Naked Hasher ministering to the temporarily lame Enter The Gerbil, a Planters Wart having been removed from his foot, to providing Naked with a list of assisted living facilities. Rhett Butthole then wondered aloud about where Gerbil had been sticking his feet. Naked was clearly more interested in having At Your Cervix assist his living but she was busy being fought over by Just Jim and I R Stupid. This of course led Snakeless to sing the Wanking Song acknowledging once again that he’d rather hold it in his hand. Having known him longer than most Shithead harrumphed that at this stage even Snakeless’ hand wasn’t returning calls. LCB kindly turned the tailgate of his truck into a buffet and the pack stuffed itself on sandwiches to wash down the alcohol. For those who were feeling the cold alcohol consumption continued at Magnolia. Long Live the King. Cheers.