Run #492 First I Did the Long Stroke

While the pack gathered at the base of the steps at California and 32^nd Ave. last Thursday our hare, Handjob For Humanity, was off to a typical Gypsies start by losing the key to Muff Snatcher’s truck. Normally it would just have been tough luck Muff but in this case the fact that his truck contained the alcohol that she planned to use as an incentive to get the pack around her trail was reason to panic. Happily Drill Me and Bite Size were present to save the day. After burying her snout in Muff’s crotch to get the scent Bite Size was able to produce the key. Paying close attention to the look on Muff Snatcher’s face while Bite Size was doing her thing Glory Hole and Just Doesn’t Get It announced that they had also lost their keys. Hey, they were happy and Bite Size was too. Napoleon Bonerdog on the other hand was insanely jealous. Speaking of Just Doesn’t Get It, in a politically correct frenzy he produced Just John as a bit of bimbo bait to offset Beats Me’s seemingly endless production of bimbos for the boys. Beats’ effort to provide for the sexual satisfaction of fellow hashers has been a true inspiration. Overwhelmed by her selflessness Open Wide decided to follow suit by forking over Just Catherine to the tender mercies of the Gypsies. Even DipC Shit got into the act by bringing his wife Susan. Unfortunately he was somewhat unclear on this concept along with so many others and ended up leaving with her again. Placing herself on the altar of Gypsy lust Just Catherine with a veddy veddy British accent and a fire engine red face gave the Sacred Missal its do. Her rendition stirred even the cold ashes of lust in Splat’s shorts and so excited Mr. Poopy Pants that he lived up to his name thus assuring that he would live the life of the loneliness of the long distance *unner. Oddly, Libby seemed to understand the reading and the activities described since she barked her approval throughout the entire performance. Enquiring minds wonder just what Fuck Me; Father has been teaching her. Speaking of Libby her barking led King Rongjon to name her, appropriately, Fucking Shut Up. With all the preliminaries completed it was time to be on-on. Handjob being environmentally sound used a thimble to put down those marks she bothered to drop and mixed the arrangement beautifully with tastefully dark chalk that disappeared in the twilight. While one would think that the lack of checks would cause the pack to disperse the clever paucity of marks kept it together. Some say trail went to Mountain Lake Park while others swear it led to the old hospital at 15^th Ave. and Lake but only the hare knows for sure. Regardless the seekers found the first drink check just inside the Presidio past the old hospital. Tongueless doing his best Snakeless impression, not hard since he is as miserable a human being, loudly denounced the hare until Fits In unceremoniously grabbed him by those shriveled things he laughingly calls balls and silenced the senseless tirade. Our hare did much to calm the situation by doling out a drink that had enough vodka to drop a mastodon and enough sugar to send the pack into a diabetic coma. Hours later Mr. Bone Jangles was still twitching on his sugar high and trying to get Sniff My Box to let him. Trail continued through the Presidio. Whippet In and Whippet Out were so ashamed of Tongueless that they took off through the bush on their own only to spot Drill Me and D’anglin Anglin who have some big time explaining to do about what was really happening in those bushes. Have all those hours driving back and forth from Napa finally paid off and who’s gonna pay for the therapy for the Whippet boys? Showing both good sense and an understanding of the terrain our hare chose to mark trees making the trail easier to follow. This easier to follow trail finally led the pack to Baker Beach where the *unners were reunited with the walkers and in a maudlin moment the pack watched the sun set. Having consumed more than enough of HJH’s alcohol at the first beer check Nutless Sac consumed even more and was overcome by both the booze and the moment. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he announced “I really love you guys.” Bigfoot reacted to this emotional outburst in the only sensible way and blew every cookie she’d ever consumed. So embarrassed was she by his behavior that Just Esther appeared on the verge of ritual suicide until a more sober Enter The Gerbil pointed out that she was Chinese not Japanese. The moment passed and the pack was back on trail towards home and the Sacred Bucket. Back at the start the table was set and the Bucket filled with Fits In’s own version of Sea Breezes. Scarlett O’Hairy and Rhett Butthole dropped in for cocktails before heading for Tahoe. Rhett felt he should pound down enough alcohol to give the CHP a fighting chance. By the time they left he was steering and Scarlett was working the pedals with her hands. The Sacred Bucket teaches teamwork. Speaking of taking off, the temperature having dropped below 90 degrees Naked Hasher disappeared into the night. Up to his usual consumption level 5150 decided that the pack should see how he planned to pass the firefighters’ fitness test and Jackoff was soon slung over his shoulder as he stormed up the California steps. While we can’t be sure it’s doubtful that passing out at the top is considered good form. Luckily Jackoff’s head didn’t hit too hard. Go Nad and Just Sean were circling Just Laura and Just Maeve like a couple of hungry lions and the smell of sex was in the air. How sad that they decided to have just one more drink to build their courage and instead found themselves kissing the sidewalk instead of the bimbos. Likes To Lick just shook his head and commented sadly on the folly of youth. Pump Fake still reeling from the Drill Me – D’anglin episode just sat in corner drinking and rocking gently back and forth. Rumor has it that SF’s finest found him that way the next day. How sad. There is also the rumor that the Ripper was there but disappeared in a haze of alcohol. The caravan moved on to the Tee Off where legends were born. May the Sun never set on a sober Gypsy. Cheers.