SFH3 Run #1788: Bye, Felicia!
: 09/26/2016
: Crocker Amazon Playground
: Miss Delivery and Fuck Buddy
: Do Her Well


"Jesus Ass Slapping Christ!"  Muff Daddy put one hand to his earbud. Herassic Park walked a little more quickly as she passed by. "Debates, you know." He explained loudly.


 Hand Pump silently appeared next to him. "I hope you're not wasting your time on that. The Internet will have already fact-checked everything approximately two seconds after it's left their mouths." He lowered his voice further. "Besides, our current mission has... priority."


Muff Daddy rolled his eyes, stuffing some stale Cheetos in his face, all the better to disguise his words to any passersby. "This isn't my first day at the rodeo, HP. I have just confirmed that our mosquito drones are active." He jumped as Cunty Butler slapped her leg. "Though not without some drawbacks." He waved Miss Delivery and Fuck Buddy over. "Can we get the pack out soon? They're destroying all of my listening devices."


Fuck Buddy rolled her eyes. "Look, if you had just told Circle Jerk to make pigeons instead, no one would have noticed. The regulars around here are a little fucked up, to be honest."


"Eyes on the prize, people." Miss Delivery slapped Muff Daddy's back, and he choked on a Cheeto. By the time Perfect Woman had given him the heimleich, the hares were far in the distance.


"You have your appropriate Unnamed targets, Perfect Woman? And all agents are operative?" Hand Pump looked at him sternly.


"Yes, but I made a bit of a mistake in briefing Heracknophobia," Perfect Woman grimaced. "Turns out she's TSA, not NSA." He watched as she grabbed at Stinky Floss's behind.


"Happens to the best of us." And with that, Hand Pump released the hounds, who immediately dragged Wrinklepecker and Masterbaster into a large grove of bushes. The pack, sensing the sort of danger that you perceive as a six year old creeping into your parents' bedroom at night because you think they're strangling each other, veered immediately to the left to follow trail.


Douchicorn slowed beside Buck Fucka and Just Jaci, and the two men exchanged a slow wink, then tripped over each others' ankles. Just Jaci, without bothering to stop, found Wee Wee and linked hands as they skipped towards the water tower looming overhead like a May Pole.


Just Cam stopped for a second beside them. "Are you okay?"


"Leave them soldier!" Yes Sir She's Just Fat dove over the pile and rolled into the bushes. "It's too late for them."


He Blew The Dick barrelled through behind him. "She's a going down, captain!" he yelled. "We've taken on too much water... and not enough beer!"


"I'll help bail!" Just Cam squirted some water from his eyelid. The other two stared at him, and scribbled something into their notepads before running off. "I was just trying to help," Just Cam said forlornly. He trailed after them, relieved to see beer at last close at hand.


"Did you get the pics?" Miss Delivery asked Dick Simmons as he came to the drink check.


"Er, no, I mean I did, but I've been having some trouble uploading..." Dick Simmons pressed a button or two on his GoPro.


"Nevermind." Miss Delivery appeared to be listening to something. He nodded at Chicken Bone Her as she strolled past. "We've got them. Good work, agent."


"Er, thanks?" Dick Simmons kept pressing his buttons, unable to restart his hardware. Roman Showers, not bothering to stifle a burp, randomly pressed on one as she blithely walked by. The camera rebooted and started working once again, allowing Dick Simmons to resume his race to the beer check.


"We've got a distress signal coming in!" Millimeter Peter pulled Fuck Buddy aside. "The Chief's having a bit of trouble."


"What seems to be the problem?" Fuck Buddy tried to assemble her face into a configuration that conveyed concern.


"He got to the beer check okay, but the start... it seems to be eluding him."


"I fucking checked in on Facebook," Ska Skank rolled her eyes. "If he's that technologically challenged, how on earth has he climbed the ranks this far?"


Fuck Norris rolled her eyes. "Nepotism, I bet. I heard he's Kim Kardashian's second cousin once removed."


Wash This Asshole shook his head. "The man's done good work. He brought down that human trafficking ring disguised as a Red Dress Run."


"I heard that was just because he got so drunk they got kicked out of the bar that was right next to the police station." Slap A Bag of Dickz answered back.


"Maybe that's what he wanted you to think." Zippercised stepped out of the darkness.  "I mean, I was really drunk, but that was how I had planned it."


"Sir," Wash This Asshole nodded his head. "Your operatives are in position."


"Excellent." Zippercised tightened his collar. "Let's begin. Bitch's Bitch, the documents?"


"Actually, I've been reassigned." Bitch's Bitch shrugged at the gaping faces.


"But what of loyalty to your kennel, your country, your creed?" Dick Ass Mother Fucker trembled.


"You know what they say," Bitch's Bitch winked. "Bitch better have his money."


"Not to worry!" Titty Boo Boo appeared out of the shadows. "I've got this one." He pulled out a sheaf of papers and thumbed through it.  "Just Ben. Just Ben was born in New York in 1946, and he believe that global warming is a hoax by the Chinese... oh, sorry."


The crowd stared at him, shifting impatiently.  "As I was saying," Titty Boo Boo continued, oblivious. "He was once bitten by a radioactive Chernobyl spider, and his superpower is cataloguing VHS tapes..."


His voice droned on and on.  "Just Jaci faints in showers, but only when she is with strangers, and so she has made that a part of her traveling pole-dancing circus act... ever since they banned the elephants, Barnum & Bailey has been a little hard up, you know..."


"Her great-aunt's middle name is Petunia..."


"And once he swallowed a small vole, but immediately spat it back out again..."


"Just Fiid worked in the red light district in Amsterdam. No, he worked on the red lights in Amsterdam, sorry, my writing was a little messy..."


"And then Just Cam said, stop, I am a porpoise..."


"Enough!" shouted Just Doesn't Get It. "What are we doing here?"


"We're finding the truth about these unnamed hashers!" Do Her Well stomped her foot on the ground.


"The truth?" Just Doesn't Get It for once towered over the crowd. "You can't handle the truth!"


"Exactly!" On All Fours declared. "To anyone who asks, I just turned twenty-seven!"


"And a Happy Birthday Fuck You to you!" Just Doesn't Get It proclaimed. "We are a den of half-minds led by a rabble of dumbasses, organized for nonsense and armed with misadventure. So let us go forth, and either Shit or Get Off the Pot."


And so it was that for that night, all got off the pot and got on to the on after.


But as Just Jaci would tell you, if you don't have to Shit sooner, you will just have to Shit later.


The End