“Shit, there’s one over there!” Grassy Ass dived into the bushes. “Let me know when it’s all clear.”
Just Robbed and Whorifist whistled and looked to the sky. “Say, doesn’t that look an awful lot like Wee Wee?” wondered Whorifist.
“Who?” Just Robbed peered around Whorifist’s shoulder, but the woman was gone.
“We’ve got to keep going another block,” declared Grassy Ass, striding forward with the other two left in his wake. “There’s not going to be a single white woman living here,” he announced.
“Well yeah, it’s McLaren Park.” Whorifist rolled his eyes.
“Jesus Christ, what’s that?” Just Robbed leapt as a figure crawled out of the poison oak and stumbled down the street.
“Do Her Well?” Whorifist frowned.
“Further, further,” insisted Grassy Ass, panicking. He pushed them deeper into the park, turning to the right as another woman approached—(“Fuck Buddy!” Whorifist yelped)—and then turning a sharp left to avoid another—(“Pole Her Bare?” Whorifist wondered).
“Guys, I think something’s going on,” he said, but Grassy and Just Robbed were beyond listening at this point, power-walking towards Bayshore at full speed.
“I know,” Just Robbed declared. “The Alemany farmer’s market.”
They arrived, only to be greeted with the sight of Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring and On All Fours picking over the cucumbers for the best specimen.
“What exactly is going on?” Whorifist demanded, grabbing her by the gourd.
“I just got a bit lost,” Sleazy said innocently. “But On All Fours took me under her wing. Let go, this one’s not firm enough.”
“Guys, I think they’re plotting something,” Whorifist whispered, but Just Robbed and Grassy had already taken off again.
“This playground is perfect,” declared Just Robbed. “Not a single white woman in sight.”
“It’s a playground next to Bernal Heights. In the middle of the day on the weekend. And you think there seriously aren’t any white women around?” Whorifist was starting to grow hysterical. “It’s a plot, a big plot, I don’t know what they’re thinking but they’re definitely sending us this way… Vagina Dentata!”
“Oh hi there, Whorifist!” he grinned and waved. Beside him Just Maverick yelped.
“What are you doing with the dog?”
“Just Maverick was having trouble with the hash shit,” Vagina Dentata told him innocently. “So Brown Eye and I were taking him for a walk for Resting Slut Face.”
“Hence the derth of women,” Whorifist concluded, watching Brown Eye pace by the gate. “You’re in on this, aren’t you?”
“Me?” Vagina Dentata widened his eyes. “What do I know?”
“Indeed,” Whorifist muttered. “Indeed.” He scrambled to catch up with his co-hares.
“I’m fucking parched,” Douchicorn declared, clawing at the ground. “Water, I need water.”
“Wanna go for a dive?” Banana In Public suggested. “I can take you under no problem now.” Boner Malfunction melted at the thought.
Rocky Mountain Oyster shoved Haolewood away from the keg and dragged Douchicorn under the open tap. “Good use for this swill,” he declared, laughing as Douchicorn sputtered. Just Jesse sighed and waited his turn.
Fucker was bent over, leaning on Deadbeat who for once was available for trail support. “A bit much, no?” he remarked to Masterbaster, who was patting a sweaty Allahu Aqbark.
“Hey, you get what you pay for,” Masterbaster shrugged, watching Eat My Pussy approach. “I think trail went that way,” he pointed at a bit of white trash in the street, prompting EMP to take off again. “He’s fallen for that twice now. Must be getting senile.”
“That was truly a racist SFH3 trail,” Cuming Mutha patted Grassy Ass on the back. “What inspired it?”
“We were going for a theme here,” Grassy Ass spread his hands in the air. “Where Da White Women At?”
“Wouldn’t that be the Gypsies?” Where My Money, who was visiting from Saipan, asked. “I thought that was the Women Only hash.” His friend Eyehole nodded.
Miss Delivery grasped his chest, trying to catch his breath. Backside Banger leaned against the side of the van, eyes tearing. Tricrapylete took the pair over to the side to explain a few things.
Grassy Ass continued, “It was going to be shorter, but Do Her Well made me move the start. And then it turns out white women were everywhere in the city. We had to keep going and going.”
“Gentrification is a bitch,” nodded Mouth Down South.
“Speaking of women, have you seen Tears of Semen?” asked Blowqueen.
“Not since our last time at the dog park,” John Handcock reined in Just Oliver, who was humping Muff Daddy’s leg.
“And Weekend At Abba’s isn’t here either,” Dick Ass Mother Fucker pointed out.
“Cockamole was just behind me,” insisted Ru Ru Rimmin. “So were Stinky Floss and Twerxes.”
“So what are you doing here?” asked Saigon Sally.
“What are any of us doing here?” Glad He Ate Her replied. “I thought there was Grassy Ass’s home cooking to be had! Let’s go!”
Back At The Start
Ska Skank dived into the warm taco, enjoying the flavorful sauce dripping from the sides. My Little Porno wiped her messy hands on the wet grass, then went back in for seconds. Cumdog Millionaire groaned. “If Cherry Poppins found out…”
“No one says anything,” Primal Vagina threatened. “This plan has gone off without a hitch so far—those assholes have been running the longest trail of the year leaving us to the food! If you leak anything, I’ve got pictures of tonight. I’ll put them online…”
Just Macayla nodded in wide-eyed fright. Perfect Woman looked up mid bite. “Would you? Regular porn’s not doing it for me anymore, but the memory of this might help.”
“That’ll be ten dollars,” Primal Vagina negotiated.
“Five,” replied Perfect Woman, briefly distracted by Just Maverick going for his taco. Luckily Resting Slut Face pulled him back in time.
“I’m so glad we got to be honorary women,” Vagina Dentata remarked to Brown Eye, who shuddered involuntarily.
“For getting to this food before the rest of the rabble?” Brown Eye pondered. “Worth the scouring I’m going to give myself with boiling water to get the Eau de Vulva off me tonight.”
“Don’t blame me for the initiation ritual, that was totally Do Her Well’s idea,” Primal Vagina nodded to the figure licking the last bit of drippings from the dish. Like a guard dog, she suddenly stiffened and peered into the darkness. “Someone’s coming.”
Zippercised and Cockagami walking into the now empty parking lot and stared in horror at the sight of the completely cleaned out vehicle. Grassy Ass ran up behind them, clutching at his stomach at the sight.
“All the food. There’s at least thirty ravenous hashers heading right for us now. What do we do? What do we do?!?”
“We have to offer them something. Some sort of sacrificial… goat.” They looked up as a branch cracked. A dark figure approached.
“Best food ever,” pronounced Abbah with satisfaction. He wrapped an arm around Foul Balls. “I wonder how they made it?”
“It tasted sort of familiar… like something I’ve had on my travels,” Banana In Public suggested.
“I want the recipe!” Masterbaster demanded of Grassy Ass, who pretended to fumble with his bag. “I don’t think you can get meat like that in stores.”
“I think we’re missing someone,” Just Fiid ran up to the group. “I’ve looked everywhere for him, and called his phone, but someone keeps hanging up on me. He’s a tall dude, bit of a beard?”
“Meh?” Just Robbed shrugged. “Never met him.”
Two figures stood at a street corner in the Mission. One grabbed a receipt from the other, crumpled it, and shoved a wad of cash into the man’s palm.
“You realize with this I’m also buying your silence. They can never find out.” Grassy Ass lit a match, setting the paper alight and dropping it to the ground. He watched the words “La Corneta Taqueria” disappear into ashes.
“I knew you were trouble when you walked in,” Meh muttered. “We are never ever ever getting back together.”
“Good.” Grassy Ass nodded, and the two went their separate ways into the morning light.