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Dr Pepper
Run 12 Dogs
busted the cherry on the first DDMC Dublin Crap Shoot this weekend ( 30 April-1
May). The weekend promised to be a
BLAST, if not a little soggy. In
Attendance were Cybil…Otter…Wes…(one and the same), Billy, Bill, Babyface,
Chef with his chuck wagon (thanks again), Charlie B, Doug (host, thanks too),
Highway,* Mike G., Twiggs, YoYo, Andy (in a cage) and guest Captain America* on
a 9’ long cobalt blue/chrome 110 c.i. slingshot.
*late arrival. Sgt Roc had
decided to go to IKEA instead of going down to shoot up the countryside, drink
whiskey and tell lies with his Brothers…his dying words were, “It sucks bein”
an adult, Dad!” Distance
traveled 225 miles (for me). AFTER-ACTION
REPORT: As I was
pulling out of the driveway a few minutes after 0800 on Saturday, I got a call
from Charlie B, saying that he was going to crap out because it was going to
rain. I convinced tha’ reluctant
Dog that all would be fine and promised that even if he did get wet, the other
Dogs in attendance would leave him alone. Reassured,
Charlie said he’d meet us at Sam’s Club on I 20 and By about
0900 all the above had clustered in the Sam’s Parking lot (save Highway). We kicked tha’ tyres…lit that fires
and blasted off down I 35 south. But
I jump the gun here… Michael G no sooner pulled into tha’ parking lot when
he blasted off in search of dinosaur juice for his scooter. Seems his Sam’s card had been
cancelled. Wild Bill pulled up and
immediately began to unload his scooter. “Whoa
Dog, this ain’t the camp site!” Bill
explained that his bike was too heavy and that it weren’t in harmony with the
laws of gravity…saying he was going to allow me to carry his junk… Thanks Bill. Charlie B rode up…yup we could actually
hear him comin’ “Tha Dog musta’ drilled out those silencers he’us callun’
pipes. Turned out Charlene roared up
on his girlfriend’s Harley. Looked
us all in the eye and made no excuses. His
feet almost reached the pavement. NOTE:
Charlie’s girl(‘s)PIPES STILL WEREN’T AS LOUD AS Twiggs’ new Cherry
Bombs in their striking red paint theme. Off we went
into the wild grey yonder. The
Rolling Thunder Traveling Carnival and Gypsy Side Show rolled south till the
“motorsicles” needed a drink. All
pulled off and got petrol, pissed and powered up again. No wait, we’us getting’ ready to
resume orbit, and STILL in the “pusholine purveyors parking lot” when Wild
Bill says he needs to get gas. Billy
starts backing up to the Dog when Bill says “Not that kind asshole, I need
some premium hi test aviation fuel for this bad boy between my legs!” Down the way a ways, Bill got his jet
fuel, I’ve pulled ahead of Chef because he’s havin’ trouble keepin’ up
with Bill’s jet fueled rocket bike. After a
coupla’ hours we rolled into Doug’s Mom’s place. Babyface showed us all how to properly
drop your bike. We all managed not
to smile… We said hello to the pet
burro’s and started settin’ up camp. “Pole
‘A’ goes into slot #1 Charlie…” Cybil
had a 4-room pop-up condo, the tent I brought was older than Charlie B, and Bill
started gatherin’ wood to build a log cabin.
The ol’ Dog couldn’t find any suitable logs so settled on a pop-up
beach front blue bungalow. Babyface
lowered his voice to a near* growl and said “Shelter…SHELTER…I don’ need
no stinkin’ shelter! I will sleep
on the freakin’ deck with the cigarette butts and ticks! A cold /wet lunch was self-served as we
detoxed from our efforts at pitching shelter halves. Camp set,
wire strung, Claymore’s out and a listening post established we headed down to
the firing range (constructed the previous weekend…many of the same Dogs
setting target posts, driving the steel targets into the ground (courtesy of
myself) and eating weeds… Ordinance in
attendance included everything from .380 pocket guns up through Dirty Harry’s
.44 Magnum…”the most powerful handgun in the world…Punk(s)!” Firing line
was sunny, calm and hot. Windage
flags hung limp on their poles. NOTE
TO WIVES and GIRLFRIENDS:
Range officer was appointed, beer was not permitted near the firing line
and all Dogs monitored other Dog’s range ethics and safety. READY ON THE LEFT? READY ON THE RIGHT? ALL READY ON THE FIRING LINE? COMMENCE FIRING! In groupings
of 3, Dogs advanced the firing line, Skirmishers R. Locked and loaded, and on command they
opened fire. Many targets were hit,
many were missed that afternoon. The
spinner target spun till it was blown apart by a succession of direct hits. Bill fired 3 rounds before he finally hit
the ground…then that old “ Cybil set up
a screen beach cabana, told the assemblage that “redheads” burn easily…and
showed us all it was true in very short order.
When not shootin’ Poobah Wes held court in the cabana, entertained by
Jester Charlie and protected by Dangerous Doug.
Very few Dogs gained admittance, but most were happy blowin’ up the
stock tank. Sometime during the “pistol plinkin’ Captain Cybil’s
sunburn having vanished and looking rather pale, he declined to abuse his
shoulder. Loaded up we returned to
camp. Chef was
busy cooking evening chow, Dogs relaxed and the liquor and lies started making
the rounds. Chef fixed hamburgers
and hotdogs that indeed hit the spot. Sated…foodwise,
we started in on several bottles of firewater.
Every Dog was happy to see that Bill hadn’t brought any of his infamous
“Robitussen Blitzers,” but he did some honey-laced whiskey. Some Dog
commented on the fact that there weren’t no women in attendance. Most Dogs agreed that this was a Dog’s
Only weekend…someone groaned dejectedly…Charlie…and after a moment YoYo
volunteered, but was shouted down! The booze
and lies got better and better as the evening progressed. We all laughed so hard and for so long we
couldn’t stand up to go pee. Maybe
that was the booze… Bill regaled
guest Captain Billy
provided the pyrotechnics ALL evening. Some
of those gassers rolled under the picnic table like the sulfur fumes I
experienced on Iwo. BILLY BOY! There were open flames downrange! Captain Did I say we
all laughed and drank till we couldn’t stand up?
I tried to ask Mike G. to go take a piss for me, but couldn’t form the
words in my brain. The Dog can’t
read muddled minds… Two or three
times I looked over at Doug…he was just shaking his head slowly. Twiggs sat sucking on his gums and
playing with his apps. I couldn’t
get a signal…which is why I had to get up and go take my own piss… Cybil called
a short “All hands,” and passed out “Come and Take It” pins to the
Redwood Originals in attendance. A
toast was proposed, so we drank some more. When
the bottle came back to me, I made another toast, saying the Devildogs of today
are the BEST we’ve ever been! And
meant it!!! Charlie B cried… Sometime
thereafter, Bill retired to his bungalow to clean his “Remington .308 bolt
action…” or maybe he had a coupla’ Robatussen Blitzers in there…he was
not seen or heard from again. How can ONE
Dog generate soooooooo much gas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you
don’t get up, you can’t fall down… I
entertained the troops with my true-to-life “Father Duck…”as yet to
completed story. All dogs
sympathized…after they stopped laughing…none volunteered to adopt… The party
wound down around A little
while later Charlie returned to the tent softly whistling a tune. I pretended to sleep… Billy’s
tent was right outside of ours and I SWEAR, it ballooned up about every 20
minutes. How did you stand it in
there Dog!?! The cold
front rolled in about 0300 and I finally dozed off. Up at 0730 and welcomed to damp-laden
clouds with a ceiling of about 20 feet. Chef
and a few Dogs were up gingerly stepping over Gunny Babyface true to his word
asleep on the deck…looking very much like a “rolly-polly” pill bug with
combat boots on, curled up tight. That’s
all (boots) you could see sticking out from under this “gunny sack.” BLESS YOU
CHEF! Coffee was hot, black and
unsweetened, just like God intended! By now its
raining pretty hard and the Dogs are looking toward the heavens…Charlie shot
me a dirty look and went out in the rain to wipe off his girlfriend’s scooter. Chef unveiled his “omelets in a
baggie.” OMG, heaven in a bag!! Full bellies and the Dogs lined up for
the shitter. Man did that septic
system take a beatin.’ Packed up,
it was “on the road again,” soggy…cold and facing the prospect of a
loooooooong ride home. Twiggs got my
gloves; Charlie got my clear wrap-around safety glasses and THEN Captain Every Dog
made it to the asphalt w/o dumpin’ their scooters and it was off to the petrol
parlor. We lost Captain And have his
wife come get him. Probably a good
idea, since he was “new” to the slingshot… The Dogs
rode north, single file in the rain…on again…off again, then on again. Pee Pee (Backfire) AKA Billy pulled off
in Glen Rose, well…to Pee Pee, tho he said it was to light one up. Miles later, he caught up with the Dog
Pack. We rolled into Cleburne none
to soon! Billy was half way into
hypothermia. He couldn’t hold on
to a coffee cup. I hadda’ spoon
feed the Dog. We got him into the
men’s head where he tried to get EVERY part of himself under the electric hand
dryer. A generous Ol’ Dog bought a
Dallas Cowboys hoodie sweatshirt and gave it to him as a Birthday present. Warmed up we
split up and headed for hot showers at home. Those who
didn’t/couldn’t make it you missed a Freakin Blast!!!! |
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