Run #894 A Crotch is a Terrible Sniff to Waste

Let’s begin by acknowledging that Just Omar is a pig, oh he’s a dog and a sight hound to boot but he’s still a pig. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, “I can resist everything but a sniffable crotch” and for him all crotches are equally sniffable. This inevitably leads us to last Thursday night’s hare Pied Piper who in a blatant attempt to cut his costs brought Just Gloria who has the postal and shipping office he uses. Well, Piper, thanks to JO and his cold wet nose welcome to your new higher shipping rates. Our hare gathered the pack in the west parking lot of Stern Grove, the one those more directionally challenged spelled G.A.S. couldn’t find. Still to be fair the city has cleverly disguised the entrance so G.A.S. need not hang her blonde locks in shame. As the pack gathered the keg of Lagunitas Wilco Tango Foxtrot (WTF) appropriately named was there to slake any pre-trail thirsts. While JO was busily trying to get on the sex offenders’ registry the pack was treated to a stirring sermon by Skankles up from SVH3 reading from the Sacred Missal at least No Shit seemed stirred but of course he could have been shaken it was hard to tell. No wasn’t the only shit present Oh Shit made an appearance as well inundating the pack in shits. OS was calmer than usual so maybe the estrogen shots have finally kicked in. Cuming Mutha in an uncharacteristic burst of humor pointed out at least the estrogen has raised his cup size. Oh CM you wag! On that note the pack was off in search of the trail Pied Piper supposedly laid. First up was a climb through the woods off trail. Tongueless and Fits In were hard put keeping the trifecta from hell Just Doc, Just Omar, and Tongue Depressor, JC DQ under control. T spent a reasonable portion of this section either face down eating dirt or on his back glissading down the same dirt but a few feet removed. Drill Me wandered the periphery of the park while The Pussy Eater dined on those small dogs that wandered within his grasp. Stern Grove will never be the same and there are already warnings posted about the phantom dognapper. Dr. Kimble flew over the trail moving faster than any process server could hope to move. Udder Moron allowed that the trail of summons’ following in Dr. K’s wake should be a warning to avoid handing out engagement rings wholesale, MILFs are known for their long memory’s. Trail, well true trail, took the pack over to Lake Merced but only the most intrepid or most desperate to win the hash found that portion of trail. D’anglin Anglin was declared winner of the hash once the pack returned and was honored by Just Doc pissing on his shoe, oh how the mighty are fallen. Douche Of Hazzard appeared out of the night and was awed by 5150’s patent leather trail shoes. Fashion maven that Douche is she was wondering if they came in a strappy little pump just the thing for World Interhash. While the pack sucked down Exsanguinator from the Sacred Bucket Pied Piper and Mr. Bone Jangles, the Gypsies’ answer to Bobby Flay, got the barbeque working and the burgers were soon sizzling. Props go to Piper who keeps the Gypsies fed and BJ who slaves over the hot grill. Hot Dick pint of piss in hand mentioned that all the trails in OZ end this way then clicked his heels and passed out. Go Nad under the influence of the Bucket acknowledged that pregnancy is a bitch so better his wife has it than him. The bruises left on his face by G.A.S. will be easy to cover with makeup. King Rongjon waved the Sword Of Power convening the Circle and once more going down the rabbit hole to RJ World. The pack full of burgers and Shits was eager to follow. Cheers