Run #1720 Putting Cockulus Out to Pasture!
In a relatively vain attempt to lure a bunch of lazy wankers out of SF, Dr. Kimble gathered the pack, or what passed for one, at Blackie’s Pasture in Tiburon. Blackie was a much-beloved horse, and his statue dominates the Pasture. Oddy, there was plenty of parking in the lot and only a few civilians *an off in panic. Dr. K was relaxing on a foldable lounge and greeting the Gypsies as they arrived. Hand Pump brought not only kegs of Lagunitas Hazy IPA and IPA, ya pays yer fiver and ya takes yer choice, but Coculus Oculus for her last outing with the Gypsies. CO is abandoning the left coast to take up residence on the right coast, Philadelphia to be exact. The pack continued to grow in dribs and drabs. Bitch Pimp was the last to arrive, she was hot to go. It’s been so long since she was hideously lost that she was jonesing for the experience. The only religion was Dr. K admonishing the pack to A. Don’t Get Killed crossing any major roads and B. Try not to fall off any of the insanely narrow trails he was going to put them on, um, when a trail actually did exist and C. Avoid being shot by outraged neighbors as they flew down quiet streets. No fool he, Dr. K remained seated to ostensibly point out the start to any late cumers. Trail took the pack on a zig zag through the Pasture, Tongueless swears Blackie’s statue “Neighed” as they went by! T kicked himself for not listening to the warning. The pack climbed a more or less trail to the top of the ridge and paralleled Tiburon Blvd. Trail returned to street level at Tiburon Blvd. and Trestle Glen Dr. a perfect spot for Dr. K’s DGK check with cars whizzing by! Our hare had mentioned that there was an abundance of backchecks and just a hint or toilet paper, but as the saner waited for the light to change, there was no backcheck to keep them out of traffic. Marks took the pack on to Mercury Ave. Suddenly there were blue circles with a blue arrow, were they backchecks with pack arrows or were they just crap? At Apollo Rd. there was an actual backcheck that eventually led to trail turning right on Juno Rd. True Trail took the pack minus the Lost Patrol back to Trestle Glen and up into the hills leading past the old Church. By now the LP were headed in reverse having lost all semblance of trail! The rest of the pack persisted while the LP rejoined Dr. K at the start. Gasp, Hand Pump had given the spare key to one of the hard handful, so no piss was pouring! The Cloak Of Invisibility was brought forth and covered with Vitamin J as well as the Sacred Thermi filled with coffee to be mixed with Irish Cream, Kahlua or brandy. The pack arrived in its usual dribs and drabs. Wash This Asshole had the spare key and piss started pouring. CO had an assortment of dips and pita chips. Even Glitorus and BP returned in a normal time period. The pack set to drinking and eating as the local constabulary kept whizzing by. Dog walkers and fitness fans were getting jealous. The constabulary set up a sting to snag drivers leaving the lot, or maybe they were just cooping. For such a small pack the time flew by and they were still at it around 9:30. Once again it was proved that Gypsies war parties cum in all sizes. Cheers.
On In!