Run #1667 Ah, the Dunes at Sunset!
Magnum, Not I decided to set the pack loose at the newly designated Sunset Dunes Park, formerly the Great Highway so he had the rabble arrive at Balboa St. and the Great Highway. The only haze over the Pacific was sitting in the Outbeer a keg of Lagunitas Hazy IPA. The hatchback got popped and Pied Piper, Adopt A Pussy and Backside Banger initiated their usual contretemps over who was going to tap the keg. If this were the 18th century AAP would have been the fastest gun in the west! He had the tap in before PP and BB cleared leather! As the pack pounded pints, they got the usual looks of disgust AND envy from the civilians, red Solo Cups can have that effect. The pack mostly just blocked the sidewalk and not the street although Lois Lame wondered aloud if E=MC Fucked was just oblivious or planning to run an insurance scam! Pied Piper felt a spirit, other than what he was pounding, enter him and require he bless the pack with a religious reading. PP being the lad he is read from the Missal that has pictures and when he could focus on the words, he caused more dripping than the weather! While Udder Moron dried himself, our hare provided a chalktalk! The only words Manhole heard were “There will be a check!” On that note the pack was off in search of marks. Tongueless was especially interested in the ones that would lead to the beer check! While the “real” *unners tore off and entered Golden Gate Park the Lost Patrol consisting of the weak and whiny were led off by our hare who took pity on them. As the LP made its way up Balboa poor set upon Fits In was forced to hear the plaintive whine of “Nobody told me it was going to be uphill!” from her “favorite letter in the alphabet.” Eventually the LP arrived at the beer check at the Rampart Bottle and Bar, and the Prince of Whining shut up. There was a fine view of passersby on the street, but Wash This Asshole was more interested in viewing the butts on the barstools and dreaming. Orders were placed and bets were made about whether the studs would arrive and how long it would take them to appear. AAP settled down for a long winters nap. The clock ticked on and suddenly Pastel Gazelle was framed in the window and in he strode with Just Bandit. Sir Flaccid Of Nuttingham wasn’t far behind and suddenly the bar was thrilled to have the pack’s business until PG and SFON did their “dog shake” routine and the bar was filled with “rain”. Jack The Ripper tried to mollify the barkeep by pointing out, “Into each life some rain must fall.” Mollified was not the response that JTR received. Clearly the Gypsies’ welcome had worn out, and the pack was off back to the start where the keg awaited tapping. It was a straight shot back to the start, the keg was tapped and the Cloak of Invisibility applied, to be quickly covered with Vitamin J and a Sacred Bucket filled with Yellow Peril. Bitch Pimp was puffing away as she arrived after having done the trail on her own! BB drained another pint and a cup of punch while declaring BP made of sterner stuff. FI dissuaded T from calling a Circle, the pack wept in thanks at not having their consumption interfered with and settled into a typically hangover producing Thursday with the Gypsies. Magnum had struck again. Cheers.
On In!