SFH3 Run #1787: Oktoberfest Hash
|:||9th Avenue & MLK|
|:||Do Her Well|
“Be vewy vewy quiet,” Whorifist whispered. “We’re hunting Douchicorns.”
“What does the Douchicorn look like?” Titty Boo Boo shouted, a hand from One Night Only instantly covering his mouth. Titty Boo Boo wiggled his eyebrows at her and dived into the bushes, hoping against all hope and reason she would follow.
“The Douchicorn is a wiley creature,” cautioned Gobble My Ass. “Full of tricks and cunning. Linguistically he is still quite primitive, so we must use utmost care not to confuse him. That’s why John Handcock and I have brought a companion to communicate with him.” She looked over at Just Oliver humping a tree stump.
“His coat is naturally configured into a Man-bun.” Masterbaster was letting Allahu Aqbark sniff a bottle of Kumbucha. “His secretions are slightly alcoholic and taste like old dish towels.”
“But don’t be deceived,” cautioned Buck Fucka. “He is not a friendly creature. He could spring at any moment, and most of you will never have even heard of him.”
Hand Pump studied the assembled pack. “Follow these drops of flour,” he cautioned. “I’m taking the beer somewhere safe.” With that he screeched off, driving out of the park and towards South San Francisco.
“Why do I think we shouldn’t have let him go?” Cunty Butler opined. She waggled her eyebrows at an older gentleman driving past. “Nice car, good-looking.” The car rolled to a slow stop, its driver having died of a heart attack instantly. “How about a ride?” Cunty Butler shoved the body to the back, holding the door open for On All Fours.
The rest of the pack resigned themselves to the hunt, some more reluctantly than others. Me No Engrish looked to the sky to find directions in the constellations, but she was immediately blinded by the full frontal of Zippercised, who was busy coating himself in beer, flour and egg. “I heard this will lure him out,” Zippercised explained. Vagina Dentata jumped in to help.
Fuck Buddy scoffed. “I think this will be of more use,” she said, pulling her underwear out and putting them on a stick. Foul Balls leapt from the brush and snagged them in his mouth, legging it quickly away into the darkness.
“They certainly were,” Udder Moron snickered.
“We’ve been going in circles for hours,” Just Ben complained. “And if I hear Brown Eye complain about Whitney one more time…”
“He didn’t even bloody his lips when he went down on her,” Red Heading said smugly.
“I think the Douchicorn has eluded us,” Do Her Well sighed. “Does anyone know where we are?”
“Are we even still in San Francisco?” Resting Slut Face sounded desperate. “This reminds me a lot of Colorado, especially the place where I got a handjob from a strange man.”
“Time to find shelter.” Good Shit Lollicock wiped his hand thoroughly on his jacket. He opened his arms and wrapped them around Wee Wee. “Let’s huddle together for warmth!”
Wee Wee pulled herself away. “I’m going to find a restroom.” She linked arms with Just Jaci and they disappeared into the bushes.
“I ate a grasshopper!” Just Hadley announced proudly.
“This is all falling apart.” Deadbeat said. “This is worse than the hash crash of ’08.”
“What happened then?” Bitch Pimp asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Gloryhole said, dead eyed. “We need a fire in order to survive the night. He reached over and pulled Minor 69er’s shoe off. “This marathon chip should do.” Angling the moonlight onto the bright orange reflective stripe, he aimed the beam into a nest of leaves he’d created. With a whoosh, the leaves lit up with flame, as did the dead pine tree next to them.
“What’s going on here?” Two police officers had wandered over to the gathered group. Dick Ass Mother Fucker dived into the ditch, gulping in fright. A slight whistling sound pulsed slowly, corresponding with his shallow breaths.
“Not much,” My Little Porno batted her eyelashes, linking arms with MUG. “We were just heating up over here.”
“The only place flaming bushes are legally allowed is in North Beach,” one officer said. “Shall we?” He held open the door of his squad car, allowing the pair to slip in. The car sped off into the night, sirens blazing.
“This thing’s getting hotter than my card slot from all the dues,” Muff Daddy snickered. Sleazy looked at him worriedly, then back at the rising flames.
“Look at what we found!” Just Get It Over With cried in victory. She led a now passive Douchicorn from the bushes, Saigon Sally right behind him. “He was lured by our Oktoberfest get-up.”
“Was there a reason you guys set the park on fire?” Saigon Sally asked.
“Some hashers thought they knew what they were doing,” Fucker informed him. “As usual, they were wrong.”
“On the bright side, I can bake cupcakes,” Cockamole scraped some batter off of Zippercised.
Just Doesn’t Get It pulled his shorts down. “Eureka!” He was quickly joined by Just Cam and Just Chris. Three streams emerged, combining into one aimed towards the heart of the flames.
“Everyone!” cried Just Liam, whose virgin status wasn’t holding him back. Together, more and more hashers pointed their personal water supply at the blaze, but the fire was barely being contained, until a booming voice filled the air.
“I’ve got it!” A blast of water burst forth, drenching the entire conflagration as well as half of the pack. Soon all that was left was smoke and ashes.
Miss Delivery put away his fire hose, and Code for Penis patted him on his back.
“All in a day’s work.”