Run #1401 No Hearts No Flowers Just Alcohol and Sugar!

With Valentines Day on Friday, Scarlette O’Hairy set the Gypsies’ trail last Thursday to show her disdain for the day of chocolates, flowers, jewelry, and bad but expensive dinners. SOH chose to bring the pack together at the Log Cabin on the Presidio scene of many a Gypsies bacchanal. As the pack gathered the keg of Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ and many a toast was raised to our hare’s choice of venue. For those who preferred water to beer Peteophile had cans of Coors but his conscience troubled him so much that he also had Russian River STS Pils. Peteophile was acting in his usual role as our hare’s support team. Bitch Pimp was there with Just Charlie the newest Hash Hound and Tongue Depressor and Qaeda Cunt gave him their qualified approval after and exchange of butt sniffing and growls. BP proved herself adept as she held JC’s leash in one hand and the Unnamed Missal in the other. Just Charlie seemed as charmed by BP’s sermon as the pack did. Our hare provided what for her passed as a chalktalk and off went the pack. Peteophile hopped into the truck and headed off the promised beercheck with his cans rattling in the cooler. Trail took the pack onto Storey Ave. and across Lincoln Blvd. to cross under the Golden Gate and reappear on Lincoln once again. Phone Sex and Bitch Pimp were leading the left behinds who were making up the rearguard of the pack and you can guess who they were but in case you need a hint one of them was clanking along with his trekking poles. Oh, you guessed 5150, well, right on! Trail took the pack down towards Crissy Field. Peteophile had the truck parked by the Pet Cemetery and the pack was soon pouring the cans of piss down their throats while the munched on SOH’s cookies and cupcakes. Tongueless made quite a pig of himself but your scribe assumes you knew he would. Fits In wryly commented that the smell of Insulin was in the air. Just Charlie was fascinated by all the other hounds and also by how many dog treats T was able to produce for him when he sat. Mans Best Hole woofed that JC should just sit back and enjoy the suckers. Manhole was too busy sucking down the STS Pils to notice. Bitches Bitch was concerned about those pack members who were still on trail and went into Savior mode but gave up when his halo wouldn’t light. Still BB can’t control himself so haloless he set off into the night. Lois Lame blessed him and kept on drinking, pointing out that one of them needed to be rational. Reluctantly the pack left the comfort of the beercheck and headed back into the night. Our hare made sure the pack was able to work off some of its sugar high *unning through shiggy that claimed One Night Only as a victim when she rolled her ankle. The rest of the pack managed to survive long enough to return to the Log Cabin and reheat themselves with the hot cider and rum in the Sacred Thermi. Dr. Kimble announced that he was going to Hawaii so he needed to practice on the rum drinks. Cuming Mutha laughed and allowed that any reason will do but a trip to Hawaii is better than most. Bitches Bitch scanned the horizon for any sight of Hand Pump would have climbed a flagpole for a better view…had there been a flagpole. Hand Pump arrived having had no problem and BB was able to finally breathe normally again. She Came Again out did Bitch Pimp by bringing Just Alexis Rose a puppy so young that she has had all her shots and needed to be carried. Cumguzzling Cockaholic found the keg and the Sacred Thermi offered him plenty to guzzle. Our hare was still pimping cookies and cupcakes since she gets a fee from big pharma for everyone she sends to the pharmacy for Insulin. King Rongjon was busy eyeing the assorted dogs and mumbling that Pied Piper is never there with the Sacred Grill when they’re needed! Grumblingly the King took up the Sword Of Power and convened the Circle. Phone Sex mumbled that she feels safer with the Sword in King RJ’s hand than T’s since T tends to swing it while the King tends to use it more to stay upright. Oh well, different strokes for different folks. Soon enough it was growler time and the keg was left as nothing more than a shadow of its former self. Needless to say the cider and rum went the way of all flesh, as CM pointed out it was necessary to have plenty of liquid to moisten all the junk food. Yes, any excuse will do. Cheers.