Run #1364 Tarting Up Your Blood Sugar
Scarlette
O’Hairy, in her never ending quest to be crowned Queen of the
American Diabetes Association laid another trail for the Gypsies
last week along with the able assistance of her chief source of
sweetness and general factotum, Peteophile. In keeping with
the idea that it only takes half a mind to hash they brought the pack
together in the parking lot behind the Senior Center in Golden Gate
Park. Scarlette has long sought the title Pimp of the Year in
the Gypsies and she was at it again by tossing the latest
brace of bims, Just McKenzie and Just Stephanie, out to
cure any erectile dysfunction in the male members of the pack.
Tongueless’ Penis, already big, grew substantially.
Unfortunately, Tongueless’ penis didn’t exactly register
on the Richter or any other scale. While the pack gathered they
happily pounded Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’
from the keg housed in the Outbeer. Just McKenzie announced
that she was an English major in college and that made her the
perfect choice to read a portion of the Sacred Missal 2.0 to
the put the pack in the right frame of mind for the cuming trail. Our
hares provided a minimal chalktalk that largely consisted of
apologizing for the extreme length of the trail and insisting that
they had simply lost control while in the glorious confines of Golden
Gate Park. Praying that the old adage that hares always lie the pack
was off in search of trail. In a bid to confuse the issue our hares
took the pack out of the park at 36th Ave. and sent them
on a circle jerk pounding cement that brought them back into the park
at 35th Ave. A romp around the side of Spreckels Lake was
the hares’ way of paying homage to the sugar family. Back in the
park the pack was on trails in the woods and Closet Twitcher
was paying the price for snowshoeing in Tahoe. Trail consisted of
homage to every iconic spot in GGP. Our hares laid a very well marked
trail especially where it crossed big patches of open ground. Trail
also made sure to go in and out of the park to just, well, annoy the
pack as much as possible. Qaeda Cunt and Tongue Depressor
on the other hand enjoyed the aimless back and forth and
crisscrossing trail endlessly because it gave them and endless
sniffari and a multitude of pee points. Trail took the pack past the
Temple at Lloyds Lake and up and over Strawberry Hill at Stowe Lake
before turning back do the other side of the park and eventually
bring the survivors around the Bison Paddock and back to the start.
Adopt A Pussy allowed as he’d never been to the Bison
Paddock and never realized how little he’d missed. Fits In
mentioned the time T had lost a shoe in a steaming pile of
Bison shit, yet another example of T’s boundless ability to
fuck up in an interesting way Tongue Depressor and Qaeda
Cunt nodded in agreement. With the pack back together the picnic
table was commandeered for the Vitamin J and Sacred Bucket
filled with Sex On the Beach, Fits In’s version and the keg
tapped. When Scarlette produced two huge lemon tarts, one with
a butter base and one with an olive oil, base the pack was faced with
the choice of blocking arteries while raising their blood sugar level
or simply raising their blood sugar level but not their cholesterol.
Bitches Bitch and Lois Lame being vegetarians opted for
the Mediterranean tart and an off the charts AC1. The rest of the
pack turned to Dr. Kimble as a man of medicine. Dr. K
pointed out that he is not a doctor; he only plays one in the hash
and anyway he knows more about one-armed men than lemon tarts. Humpy
Slowcum a Wine and Chowder wanker was worried about the duo of
virgins still out on trail because they might not get enough alcohol
into them to give him a fighting chance to finally not have to rely
on his hand. Just as his tears began to flow the bimbos in question
appeared on the horizon. The only one still on trail was Manhole
with Mans Best Hole but eventually even they made it back.
Just McKenzie managed to get down some tart before cutting
Humpy’s chance of a hump in half by leaving. The rest of the
pack settled in for a long summer’s night of indulgence. Once again
the pack was so happy filling its faces with food and drink that the
Sword Of Power stayed sheathed. The pack talked amongst
themselves solving none of the world’s problems. Yes, it was a fine
wasted evening. Cheers.
On In!