Run #1334 Out for Delivery!


Fresh from his stint as royalty Missed Delivery laid the trail for the Gypsies last Thursday. Gathering the pack at 9th Ave. and MLK Jr. Drive let the pack know his sense of humor is intact even after a month of alcohol abstinence. The absurd idea that parking would be available clearly had MD laughing up his sleeve. Fits In eventually secured a space for the Outbeer in the far distance but was able to move it closer after a local responded positively to Dr. KimbleŐs less than veiled threats. Thanks for the parking situation went to First Thursday of the Month meaning all the cheap date loving locals were visiting the museums and the single/minglers were trying to score with the opposite sex while drinking free wine. The Gypsies paid them back by seizing control of the sidewalk and humiliating the *unners without purpose sweating for their health and the faux intellectuals discussing the arts or as Dick Ass Mother Fucker said, discussing their farts. In her haste to get at the keg of Lagunitas Little SumpinŐ Easy Cream ChuggerŐs dash across two lanes of traffic didnŐt leave anymore shattered glass than the usual car breakins. Poor WhoŐs Your Daddy wept bitterly as he realized the ABV on the piss was only 5.7% but cheered up quickly when Fits In told him the Sacred Bucket was River Madness. Our hare announced the trail was ŇmostlyÓ live and set off to make that an honest statement. Just Ted took up the Male Missal and preached a sermon that had the museum bunch and locals wishing they were on a beach in Australia. Trail immediately took the pack into the woods and back out across Lincoln Way at 9th Ave. MD made his love of concrete pounding clear from the beginning. The Lost Patrol made little effort to not be lost as the usual headless chickens, Fits In, Tongueless, and 5150 were joined by Phone Sex. A pack that had to find parking led to pack of a thousand, an exaggeration, little lost patrols. Trail continued along 9th Ave before turning on Judah. There were rumors of a Blow Queen sighting but the cloud of dust just turned out to be a cloud of dust, how Freudian. More concrete was the order of the evening as trail moved to 11th Ave. and on to Lawton St. before our hare sent the pack down through the 15th Avenue Steps Park. Not that the steps were that long or that steep but when he reached the bottom at Kirkham Tongueless fell to his knees and wept. Fits In pointed out that he always does that when Tongue Depressor or Qaeda Cunt donŐt drag him to his death. As they followed trail down 15th Ave. the LP came across Pencil Dick who announced that he was completely flummoxed but the lack of trail. A quick meeting of the minds, such as they were, led the LP to decide to continue down 15th Ave. The more of less main pack somehow managed to find trail that led them to Stow Lake and back through the park itself. The incompetents and cowards preferred to take Lincoln Way back to 9th Ave. ThatŐs not to say there was no method to their cowardice since it substantially increased their drinking time. Back at the start the keg was tapped and itŐs cloak of invisibility was placed over it before being laden with Vitamin J including a substantial amount of left over Halloween candy that existed for less than a heartbeat when the rest of the pack arrived. Happily guzzling beer and River Madness the pack was now the object of jealous glances from the passersby who had been to the museums. That jealousy was substantially increased when Blow Queen whipped off his sweaty shirt and flexed his manly muscles. Tears Of Semen swears she saw several women slip as they stepped in their own drool. Udder Moron announced that his leg was healed so the Sacred Bucket must have caused his collapse. Chickenboner arrived late but early enough to get a snoot full and thatŐs what counts. Speaking of late arrivals Lois Lame announced that Bitches Bitch would in fact show up eventually to which there was a thunderous lack of interest. Manhole and Mans Best Hole were interested in treats, human and hound although Manhole preferred his treats in liquid form. With the King hors de combat thanks to a poorly knee Tongueless took up the Sword Of Power and swung into action convening the Circle. Hand Pump was down-downed for not living up to his reputation for being DFL but he took it like the man he is, stoically. Cum Guzzling Cockaholic found his way to the alcohol and consumed enough to give him the courage to return to wife and kiddies but it took him awhile. Mr. Cheese Turd and Whine & Chowder devotee made his was to the pack by bike and proceeded to turn himself into an accident waiting to happen. Lois Lame proved herself prescient, as Bitches Bitch became the DFL with the excuse that heŐd been sucked into going to a Lulu Lemon ŇrunÓ.  BB will NEVER be able to explain or live down going to yoga pants event when he could be drinking. Suicide is really his best option. Our hare more than made up for his dry month. Cheers.