GPH3 Run #1578: Gypsies Anal Trotting of the Turkeys
: 11/23/2023
: The parking lot at Rodeo Beach in Sausalito at the end of Mitchell Rd.
: Pied Piper and Manhole
: Tongueless

Run #1578 The Day the Turkeys Trotted! 

Pied Piper and Manhole took on the Herculean task of laying the 30th Anal Turkey Trot for the Gypsies! As they have for 29 previous years the Hashing Gods smiled on their favorites and the weather was spectacular! Our hares gathered the pack at the parking lot for Fort Cronkite at Rodeo Beach in Sausalito. The sun was shining as the Outbeer was wheeled into the parking space that our hares had valiantly saved at great personal risk from the irate surfers who were also going to enjoy that brilliant weather. The keg of Lagunitas Island Beats was tapped, and our hares enjoyed a pint while Gypsies took up more parking spaces. Do Her Well and Just Doesn’t Get It were looking for ButtPlug Fred and Code For Butt. It seems that rather than just check the Gypsies webpage and know that the gathering of turkeys was at 11:30am, admittedly a ghastly time, BPF and CFB rang DHW and JDGI for the time, uh huh, brilliant. Mistake number 2 was they asked JDGI who told them the *un was at 10:30am, oops. As the pack pounded piss somewhere in the hills were BPF and CFB looking for trail. The hares had been laying trail since 8:30am so our wandering duo might have actually come across some marks. Standing on the edge of the pack was Just Sydney surrounded by an aura of estrogen that dragged the testosterone straight out of Pied Piper and Wash This Asshole, who couldn’t draw a pint for her fast enough. CSI looked on amused as once again all were reminded that hope springs eternal in the male genitalia! Just Sydney had *un with the Ben Franklin MobH3 in Philadelphia but now found herself living in Sausalito and, um, looking for a “good time”. Tongueless doddered over and took her under his wing, explaining that the Gypsies were gentle folk and would appreciate her assistance in getting the pack started by reading a bible verse or 2 from the Sacred Missal. JS was happy to assist and picked a section on the love of extended family. By the time JS had finished WTA had quite an extension in his jeans. No sooner was religion completed than our hares fled while mumbling about family duties. As they walked past Just Fuck Off, she swears she heard them snickering over how many Gypsies they  expected not to survive their trail. Speaking of the trail, clearly it was time to be out on it. Trail took the pack across the beach sand to the base of the ridge on the left side of the water and up that ridge, and up, and up that ridge. The Lost Patrol now included Just Sydney, CSI, and WTA as well as T and Fits In. Having set trail on that same ridge T took the LP to the left and oddly enough there was a trail that would end in the same spot but was more easily negotiated. It can sometimes pay to be a lazy AND inept bastard; T is a prime example. While the rest of the pack climbed towards the various gun batteries that had been built to keep enemy troops from landing during WWII the LP climbed towards a spot T swore he knew. Allow the laughter to begin. The true pack found itself bushwhacking between bits of trail the same could be said for the LP but the bush needed way less whacking. The LP took the trail through the Bicentennial Campground out to Bunker Road and back to the start. Eventually all who went forth, including the early birds BPF and CFB,  returned intact, sorry PP and Manhole you failed in your quest for blood. The crew took control of one of the picnic tables, sending the families who were out for a quiet Thanksgiving fleeing in abject terror. The keg was tapped, the Vitamin J stacked on the table including One Night Only’s left over cookies, and the Sacred Bucket was filled with Fits In’s patented Bloody Marys complete with celery sticks for the health conscious; for the rest there was Dave’s Insanity Ghost Pepper Sauce. 5150 managed to make it to the table without the indignity of the trail. Blow Queen and Pastel Gazelle ridiculed the hares as a pair of  “puddy tats” who laid a Tweety Bird trail. Tossing back those Bloodies got the pack in the mood for down-downs so T took to weaving and waving the Sword Of Power and convened the Circle. In honor of the hares T drank the first two d-ds causing FI to roll her eyes and the rest of the pack to take a few steps further back. Of course, the lascivious wankers were barely controlling themselves waiting for JS to be called forward. Up JS came leaving her tete a tete with R U Gay and I’m Not Gay who was more interested in any chips being dropped. When JS was given the sacred duty of entertaining the pack that had so entertained her, she eschewed a dumb song and a bad joke to give the pack the finest moon shot since Apollo 11! Cheers.