Run #1599 NEVER Play Chicken with a Boner!

Chickenboner has a fondness for picnic tables and Golden Gate Park so where better to bring the Gypsies together than 25^th Ave. and Martin Luther King, Jr. Dr., all of her needs were met! There must have been something in the air or maybe CB just brings out the masses, then again, the keg of Lagunitas Little Sumpin Sumpin might have turned the trick since 25^th Ave became just a parking lot for Gypsies’ cars. Talk about being graced, well the pack was well and truly graced by the return of Brent To Bone who has the enviable record of singing the weekly sermon! No Blow Ho and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Wanker swept in with two friends from Florida, Just Bin and Just Friend. Now JB and JF are apparently supervisor and supervisee but they both pounded pints like a duel to the drunk! But wait, you want more, okay, the pack was joined by Magnum, Not I an SF transplant from New York via Tennessee. When it came time for a religious service it looked like there might be war to knife between BTB and Magnum, Not I over the honors but Daffy Fuck prevented bloodshed by flashing and both the lads went slack jawed, and Adopt A Pussy then split the lads by stepping between them to the keg. At that point BTB graciously offered the Male Missal to M,NI who proffered a pint of piss to BTB. M,NI stepped to the podium and in true Gypsies style preached a sermon about Brent that was so moving that BTB wept from his eyes and his shorts. Observant as he is E=MC Fucked noted that a number of shorts seemed to be weeping and Fits In was fanning her crotch. Happily, cooler heads prevailed and after a minimalist chalktalk the pack was sent off into the park. The first actual mark was on the corner of MLK and 25^th Ave. On All 4s swiftly gathered the Lost Patrol under her wing and led her chicks across MLK and into the bush. As usual the “pack” fragmented into a gaggle of headless chickens. AAP and DF were a pack of two and Tongueless, Fits In and Pied Piper limped along the shore of Elk Glen Lake. CB knows how to mark a trail since the likes of Whose Your Daddy are half blind by the time they start. Our hare must have thought she was back in Minnesota since her trail went around every lake she could find. Dr. Kimble was whining that it felt like CB had managed to go around a thousand. CB managed to whip the pack around Mallard Lake as well but she kept the whole trail in the park. Eventually the vast majority staggered back to the start and the keg and Vitamin J were ferried over to the picnic table so desired by our hare. With the keg tapped and the Sacred Bucket filled with Yellow Peril, 5150 magically appeared. Manhole suggested that what 5150 really needs is a puff of snoke when he appears at the end of the trail. The pack set about stuffing gobs and emptying the keg down their gullets. FI has decided that as well as savory there needs to be sweets and York Peppermint Patties and Oreos work nicely. Until Hand Pump emptied that sleeve of Oreos straight into his mouth no one knew he had a sweet tooth or could chew like a woodchipper. Just Fuck Off and Pastel Gazelle are egalitarian eaters, if they can get their hands on it, they eat it! Wash This Asshole did his limpet impersonation with M,NI who did a magnificent job of not rolling his eyes...too far back. Cuming Mutha’s on the other hand were rolling like a slot machine. T took up the Sword Of Power and not feeling he’d embarrassed himself quite enough proceeded to finish the job. Jack The Ripper suggested that T might like to drink more and talk less, hmm! Our Floridians never seemed to work out who was who but since they needed to link arms to remain upright it didn’t seem to matter. When it became growler time No Blow Ho didn’t whip out the largest growler known to man but something that could be filled from a keg not a tank truck. Eventually the less than sober pack dissolved into the night. Cheers.