Run #1696 Gimme Shelter
Always trying to stay ahead of the game Dr. Kimble set a Gypsies trail in the Presidio from Lincoln Blvd. and Hoffman St. aka Pilots’ Row where he knows there is shelter should a storm come in over the horizon. Of course, none had been predicted but Dr. K is a “Be prepared” kind of guy. Had there been a storm his planning would have been appreciated. The Outbeer arrived packing a keg of Lagunitas Hazy IPA and any clouds in the sky, none, parted. Adopt A Pussy and Backside Banger were quick to snag the tap and suddenly they were wet on the inside and bone dry on the outside. Gradually the pack filled the parking space. Tricrapalete of course, rode in on shanks mare. The pack was perfectly happy to pound piss but Dr. K had other plans for them, something about how high is the sky seemed to figure in on it. Dr. K of course was busy lying to the pack about the trail but no one was paying attention to the hare. Attention was focused on gaining some sanctity and Nothing Down Under provided a moment of reverence for the pack by reading from the Male Missal! Having had their eternal souls saved the pack was off in search of marks that would lead them to more earthly pleasures. Of course, 5150 arrived just in time to watch the pack take off while he diddled around picking just the perfect parking space! Dr. K fed the pack a long circle jerk before dodging between a building and a garage and sending them up a stairway to heaven. Not that it was long and high but E=MC Fucked was bloody nosed at the top! Trail took the pack took Armistead Rd. Those “dueling banjos” Blow Queen and Pastel Gazelle were by now working hard to exceed any normal limits Dr. K might have, none, exercised in the length of trail. Sir Flaccid Of Nuttingham was actually finding that he could follow the trail and that was making him nervous! Bitch Pimp would have been thrilled to be able to follow trail but that would have meant she couldn’t get in a longer *un by getting lost. BP opted for more steps! Once more Fits In found herself dealing with Tongueless who channeling a Robert Service poem had to see what was over the horizon. FI was less than pleased when T returned to tell her not the trail. FI was barely able to avoid an “I told you so!” As the pack dribbled back to the start and keg there was a miraculous occurrence, both Who’s Your Daddy and Cuming Mutha arrived back saying they’d done as much of the trail as they thought worth the effort then bagged it! As the keg was covered by the Cloak Of Invisibility, to be covered itself, with Vitamin J and Sacred Thermi filled with coffee to be mixed with Irish Cream, Kahlua, and brandy the pack settled down to celebrate T’s birthday with a great cake courtesy of FI. Not to worry no one was exposed to T’s ancient genitalia while he did naked pushups. One Third Of A Cum was the first among many to thank Fits In for preventing a show that would have had him upchucking a pint. Ah well, another evening passed with the Gypsies. Cheers.
On In!