Run #418 Who Pissed in the Hot Tub?


It was colder than a tombstone and the wind was up to its usual howl as the Gypsies gathered at the parking lot of the Randall Museum for their annual exercise in self-absorption and liver worship. Not having a Mismanagement Committee means being able to abjure the trapping of an Annual General Meeting and have an Anal Grand Mockery, much more in keeping with the GypsiesÕ style. King Rongjon made his usual last minute appearance and dashed off claiming to be setting the trail live. Sweat puddling at his feet and trailing off behind him put the lie to that. Moira stepped up to the plate and hit one out of the park with her reading from the Sacred Missal. Her rendition was so heartfelt that it popped Shaggy DogÕs pustule, now maybe it can heal and wouldnÕt that make Snakeless happy. With thoughts of free beer, a hasherÕs favorite kind, and food dancing through their half minds the pack was off up Museum Way. The trail was well marked, an unusual occurrence of late, allowing even DÕanglin AÕnglin to stay within the city limits. Trail eventually passed FiniganÕs Wake where an ever thinking Enter The Gerbil caught the King downing pints. T/BC as blind as Gerbil is bright also went in but never saw King Rongjon who was hiding behind two enormous women heÕd been chatting up. Fits In had suggested that he bring Duncan and Parker along in search of eau de majesty but was ignored much to the joy of the sensitive nosed hounds. As the trail tugged them towards Twin Peaks the pack enjoyed a series of circle jerks and false trails that put Fits In, Don, and T/BC in the position of FRBs. Luckily this stain on their escutcheon was soon erased by the thundering hoofbeats of those not competent to short cut. Having set a well-marked trail the King had the joy of seeing the pack arrive at the start close together meaning that alcohol would begin to flow early. The Sacred Bucket was filled with Bengal LancerÕs Punch, the traditional AGM poison and the bacchanal begun. King Rongjon, Sword Of Power in hand, commanded his Fool to open the circle and Enter The Gerbil, belled cap ringing called the minions to order. Down-downs were composed of scotch and tequila both aged for at least an hour. Bag Lady and Dr. Kimble were honored for having missed so many trails. By the time theyÕd finished their down-downs and pounded the Bucket it was a miracle that they were alive let alone made it to a trail. Half an hour after they left the parking lot they were still there thanks to Dr. K not bothering to turn the key in the ignition. Bag Lady can sure go vroom, vroom, vroom well. Everytime Bigfoot belched Dr. K complained about the damn engine backfiring. Handjob For Humanity was down-downing in honor of reaching that 28th day without PMSing Scabass Faggot or SCAF as she calls him into oblivion. Virgins Sean, Rich, and Lois were tossed into the grinder. Apparently Rich weighed 23 pounds at birth and when he was circumcised he dropped to 17 or so he claimed or so your scribe heard. Lois was clad in a black trench coat leading Wankers Island to assume she was a flasher. Sadly she hadnÕt a joke, a song, or even a body part to show for her efforts. ETG just declared her lame and tossed he back onto the trash heap of history. Naked Hasher having made her cum tried to defend her honor by showing a body part of his own but no one was interested. The King was conned into an acapella rendition of Clint Meets the Gay Caballero that produced some kind of body fluid from Glory Hole but since it hasnÕt been analyzed no one is quite sure what kind it was. Gerbil led the pack in swearing another year of fealty to our liege lord. He also produced a doctorÕs statement attesting to the health of the royal liver to which a health was drunk. Down-downs done, allegiance once more sworn, and proper healths drunk the movable feast moved on to Captain Dickhead and SnakelessÕ abode where a final toast was drunk to the two virgins who disappeared on trail and who are now are in the Tomb of the Nameless Virgins. Fits In had provided jerked chicken to calm the rumbling stomachs. Fucking Pesto Chicken invited her to jerk his anytime she liked. Fits In shot back that it would be a waste since no one would eat it. Alcohol continued to flow and steam rose from the hot tub. Dick Chick deep in her cups decided to find out just how Hung Juror was hung but the jury is still out since when last seen she was comatose. Speaking of being in her cups Cream Filled Buns was so far to the wind that she offered to get Soggy Biscuit a new filling. Soggy was hoping to do some filling of his own by going deep in philosophical discourse with Phone Sex. T/BC having been in the steamer was strolling around in a towel causing a toasted Lauren to announce that whales can walk. Better Than Silicone was fascinated that she had more hair in arm pits than T/BC has on his chest but she has more hair in her pits than Snakeless has on his head. Speaking of the hot tub Likes To Lick and Open Wide were really enjoying that game of sub warfare with LTL trying to put his torpedo into her. Teazemaid from the CardiffH3 arrived late but not to late for Captain Dickhead to miss doing some diving of his own in the tub Solo dived in and saved him from drowning. Long live the King. Cheers.