The Gypsies in the Palace 500th Weekend
Chapter One: Run #500 It was a Dark and Stormy Night
Like
most of what you are about to read the title of this work is a lie.
Oh your scribe might call it fiction but lie is so much more a
truthful description. Halloween in San Francisco and with the Gypsies
to boot what could be more frightening? Apparently not much for all
the wankers who chose not to be there because “the Gypsies
drink too much.” Well you know who you are so there is no need
mentioning anyone by name or other affiliation. For the true
cognoscenti of a good time the west end of Kezar Stadium was the
place to be and real hashers came from far and wide to be there.
Among the non square were Hash Hole from Belgium and Prince
from West London, hell they were there because “the Gypsies
drink too much.” DeBriefed from the San DiegoH3 handled the
Sacred Missal with lawyerly aplomb. So perfectly enunciated
were her words and so clearly loaded with sexual promise that
Corkscrew suddenly found himself twisted straight. Dressed as
Dracula he found that DeBriefed’s peroration sent him to a
ten on the lust meter but it wasn’t her blood that he wanted.
D’anglin Anglin dressed as a low rent Tony the Tiger was to
busy paying attention to Beats Me to notice the unscrewing of
Cork. Dressed as a June Cleaver clone Beats Me clearly
showed what Beaver wanted left to him. D’anglin was brought
back to the days of his youth when looking through their dresses at
the tits of his mother’s friends was how he would while away a
sunny day. LCB dressed as the Boy Scout he is took poor
D’anglin to task but he wasn’t above dropping a dime and
looking up Beats’s skirt when he bent to pick it up. Tongueless
and I R Stupid were the perpetrators of the evening’s crimes
against nature so it was fitting that Tongueless was dressed
in a full out Turkey suit, many did not notice the difference
especially when he put on the head, and I R Stupid may or may
not have been wearing a demon mask, a poll of women he’s dated
would have to be taken decide if it was fake. Trail took the pack
through Golden Gate Park past the carousel where Xena The Warrior
Princess dressed suitably as a pimp tried to interest a couple
of toddlers in posing for his Internet site. This is what happens
when you drink too much before the trail even starts. No luck with
the kiddies but at least one of the moms was seen tucking his card
into her bra. Trail then turned through the panhandle where the local
denizens of the dark were off put by the Gypsies who looked
even odder. Tits 4 Hire dressed as a fairy godmother must have
looked very real to the local rummies as several yanked out teeth in
the hopes of her dumping a quarter on them. Turing bright green all
she dumped on the gummies was her lunch. Booger Hooker a less
attractive Borg than either the real or Silicone Valley Six of Nine
fought a gallant rearguard action allowing her to fly to safety.
Sorely in need of alcohol to wash the thought of that from their half
minds the pack was glad to arrive at the first appointed alcohol
check in the parking lot of the Cala Foods at Stanyan and Haight
where their hares had provided Bacardi Limon as refreshment. While
the pack was imbibing Just Ira dressed as an Ayatollah clone
took Tits to task for being a tad to lax with her wand. Waving
the said wand Tits turned him into the toad he really is. At
this point a terrified Oral Roberts arrived. Dressed as a
Roman legionnaire while *unning through the panhandle he’d been
accosted by more Christs than he could count. Bag Lady
eschewing her Nancy nerd costume warped into nurse mode calming him
down and pouring so much rum into him that Oral made a pass at
Rhett Butthole. Well of course Oral’s always been a tit man
and Rhett dressed as Scheherazade had a pair big enough for
two thousand and one Arabian nights. Only Just Sean
looking like a low rent Zapata grabbing him by the hair saved him
from drowning as Oral dived into that cleavage. As he came up
for air it was time for the pack to move on. Strutting their stuff as
they cruised down Haight the pack headed for the second check at the
Chevron station on Fell and Masonic. The hares were ready with Skye
vodka to wash the trail out of parched throats. By now that pair of
butt pirates Nutless Sac, dressed appropriately with a useless
sword, and Just Esther, looking less like pirate and more like
Hercule Poirot at a Halloween party, were so offended by the actions
of the pack that they chose to pass the check and spend their time at
some jolly rogering in a darkened doorway. No one noticed as the
crowd was more focused on a very toasted; well he was dressed as a
baker, Who Said Head trying to get some of that from himself.
Sadly he wasn’t quite as flexible as he thought. Tiger striped
Escrowtum saved the day by unpretzeling him and allowing the
pack to continue. Trail next took them over the top of Buena Vista
Park where they were commingled with more of the local loonies this
time on motorcys. LCB, again being the Boy Scout and so
prepared had purchased some Boddington’s so the pack arrived at the
beer check on Upper Terrace already primed. No Hands
wearing his motocross gear but oddly out of place without a huge
engine rumbling between his legs,,,hmm what would Meat Pie
have to say about that… knew some of the other revelers but stayed
to party with the pack. Drill Me wasn finding it hard to
control Bite Size who took Likes To Lick’s Dalmatian
suit seriously and was heavily panting after his waggily tail. Poor
Open Wide as Cruella DeVille was unsure who’d get him out of
his skin first. Even Phone Sex shaking her bonily skeletal ass
at Bite Size couldn’t distract her from LTL… ah the
power of puppy love. Having momentarily quenched their thirst the
pack was once again off in pursuit of trail. Anthrax and arrows
brought them to a small park where Twin Peaks becomes Clarendon and
the hares had some dandy brandy to calm them down after yet another
climb. Open Wide was definitely feeling no pain as she did a
pole dance on a conveniently placed street sign. Speaking of poles
Mr. Bone Jangles looking fine in his bus driver’s suit was
busy trying to convince Beats Me to ride his. No fool she,
Beats Me agreed but only if he provided a transfer. Brandy
assisted in the unmasking of Dr. Kimble who as an invader from
Mars had remained silent throughout the course of the evening. Of
course once his mask was removed it was clear that the silence was
the result of alcohol induced numbness. Making full use of his
infirmity that little Devil Scarlett O’Hairy left him sucked
dry on a tumbleweed patch. Scarlett is America’s first line
of defense. From the park trail led to Chez Bigfoot and Gerbil
for the on-on. Sadly Enter The Gerbil crashed and burned, a
common thread for the weekend, just trying to get to his own house.
Dressed as a Muslim cleric he was lucky to have made it that far.
Just John who isn’t a doctor but was playing one this night
quickly administered a syringe of tequila then sewed the lad back
together. Unfortunately Just John had been imbibing himself
leaving Bigfoot married to the Gypsy equivalent of the
Winky-Wanky Bird. No one could tell how she was taking it since she
was in full burkha. Speaking of Bigfoot she proved that she’s
not a one trick pony being a Beer Bitch isn’t her only saving
grace. Having single handedly cooked for the crew she is now not just
a but the Food Bitch. While some groups pass putrid
pasta off as the cuisine de hash the Gypsies dined on lamb
stew, cheese bourek, egg plant salad, pilaf, and baklava. By the time
he finished stuffing his face 5150 was able to dump the
padding and still be a fat man. Overcome by the sight of all that
food Fits In decided to really take her costume as a butcher
to heart and headed off to wring the turkey’s neck. Happily for
Tongueless Cupcake, while dressed as the Scarecrow from
Oz, still had enough of a brain to disarm her. Speaking of Fits
her Sacred Bucket of River Madness had the proper
effect. Even though Splat was dressed as one it didn’t take
a rocket scientist to tell he’d soon be down with Toxic Cock
Syndrome. Chickless Boner outdid himself by dressing as
a cross between Howard Stern and one of his necrophiliac dates. King
Rongjon looking like a dissipated Clint Eastwood was in fine
fettle administering down-downs while wielding the Sword Of
Power. Almost as lethal was the spear DipC Shit was
wielding as part of his minority stereotyping costume. As the number
of Sword condoms (spell that empty cups) grew along the length
of the Sword people came into their own. Dick Chick
dropped the brick she’d been carrying all evening as a handicap for
her speed and switched to a witchy woman dress that left Go Nad,
either a lumber jack or a poor excuse for Bruce Springsteen, in a
position to pole vault across the room. DC definitely put the
slink in slinky. DC wasn’t the only slinky thing as
Manhandler dressed as a gypsy clearly showed why any man would
be willing to cross her palm with silver. No special powers were
needed to read 3 Ball J’s mind but it was obvious that
Manhandler would be holding the whip hand even though he was
cuming as Indiana Jones. The Sacred Bucket was emptied and the
keg was drained dry by early Friday morning. First reports placed the
casualty count high. On to the Only the Strong Survive Pub Crawl.
Stay tuned for Chapter Two. Cheers.