SFH3 Run #1806: Year of the Cock
: 01/30/2017
: St Mary's Square, California st and Quincy
: Chicken Bone Her
: Do Her Well

“It’s quite the massive cock up,” Chicken Bone Her admitted apologetically.

Cuming Mutha dived out of the way of a wave of fire, hair smoking slightly in a corona around his cranium.


“Is now really the time for puns?” complained Three Fingers.


Code For Penis grinned wryly. “It’s always time for puns,” he chided before jumping out of the way of another flume of flame.


Shaft hunkered down besides Dick Simmons, who was snapping pictures frantically. “It’s so washed out,” he complained, fumbling with the settings. “If only it would stop spouting waves of fire, the lighting is hell.”


“Yeah,” Shaft agreed, before shoving Dick Simmons around the corner. The bricks where they had crouched blackened under the heat.


“Is this normal for Chinatown?” asked Roman Showers.


“Oh, you’re saying this is some sort of Chinese problem?” asked Ru Ru Rimmin.


“It’s Chinese New Year,” Backside Banger held up a finger. “It’s the year of the Fire Cock,” he added, holding up a second. “And there’s a gigantic flame-shooting rooster in front of us.” He frowned. “I’m not saying there’s a connection, I’m just pointing out facts here.”


Fucker calmly walked across the street towards them and nearly got mowed down by a bus. He glanced up at the massive flame spitting bird, which Do Her Well was trying to entice with treats and offerings of head scratches, and then looked at Chicken Bone Her. “Trail is still happening, I assume?”


“It’s laid,” she said. “The trail I mean, I don’t think roosters lay eggs.”


With that, the pack was lit off by Fucker shouting On On and the giant cock spitting fire into the center of the pack. Yes Sir Yesshesfat leapt forth, high stepping his way through the narrow alleyways and their enclosed restaurants, only pausing to collect a particularly tasty-looking chicken leg. Enraged, the rooster gave chase to him, only to be distracted by Cockamole’s gleeful laughter. Thinking it was a mating call, the big black cock changed course suddenly, causing Just Arno to nearly swerve into Just Liz to avoid its gigantic claw.


Miss Delivery, seeing Cockamole was unknowingly in Mortal Danger, ran forth to pull her out of the way of the now diving beak. “Oh my!” laughed Cockamole as she was swept off her feet. Her stomach dropped as she was launched hundreds of feet into the air, landing in a soft bed of feathers on the rooster’s neck. Miss Delivery had not been in time.


“Shit!” Do Her Well stomped her feet. “I ran the eagle for you my love!” She ran after the pair, face sullen and stormy.


“We’ve got to save Cockamole!” Twerxes leapt onto Bitch’s Bitch’s back, stuffing a bit into his mouth. “Onwards my steed!” She tugged at the reins, causing Bitch’s Bitch to fall over into a ditch. Weiner I Am, sensing an opportunity, ran forward to save them but only collapsed on top of the pair. “Cuddle puddle!” Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring jumped into the fray as well.


“Quick, get the virgins!” Dick Ass Mother Fucker had grabbed a stool from an old woman who was slapping him with her purse. He was used to such things and successfully ignored her until she gave up. “I’ll ward it off with this stool.”


“I didn’t know you were into coprophilia,” Brown Eye raised an eyebrow.


“We said no time for puns, dumbass,” Ska Skank slapped him and pushed forward a virgin. “We have to lure it into a trap.”


“Hey, that’s my virgin,” Boob Slap complained.


“She’s ours now,” Cockagami said smugly. “You, you over there. Hold onto this stool.” He pulled another scrambling figure over by the orange jacket, pushing the leg of the stool through the armhole of the vest. Millimeter Peter grabbed another one, and Just Louisa pushed forward a third. They could barely fit all the virgins onto the stool, but neither could any escape, and the rat-king of virgins was carefully shuffled over to the center of the square by Muff Daddy, who was the only one interested in touching them.


 “We launch them at our signal.” My Little Porno whispered, while Perfect Woman looked through a pair of binoculars.


“Wait!” Douchicorn popped up, blocking his view, donning a freshly pressed jacket. “He’s my fantasy,” he said dreamy-eyed, manbun carefully coiffed, a scent of fresh daisies lingering around him.


“Like hell he is!” Do Her Well dove from around the corner, tackling Douchicorn and pulling his manbun. “He made promises to me!” she shouted into Douchicorn’s ear. “We had a connection.”


“Oh yeah?” Douchicorn pulled out a letter. Do Her Well paused to decipher the chicken scratch, tearfully looking up at last.


Primal Vagina patted her shoulder. “He’s nothing but a cock whore,” she said soothingly. “Birds like that have no shame. We’ve all been there.” Six Tits a Week nodded in agreement.


“Well now that our plan is ruined…” Perfect Woman complained. The virgins had apparently escaped in the confusion.


“What do we do now?” Rent Whore wondered. Mouth Down South gasped and pointed.

“I have an answer…” a figure emerged from the darkness, holding a frozen pizza in hand.


“It’s not Miss Delivery,” Wrinklepecker concluded. “It’s Dickgiorno!”


The rooster, attention captured at last, breathed a steady stream of flames towards Dickgiorno, cooking the pizza in his hands perfectly. Cockamole slipped off the back of its neck carefully as it bent its beak towards Dickgiorno. Backwash and On All Fours steadied her so she did not fall. Once off, the pair grabbed their Bang Snaps and threw them in a barrage towards the rooster’s feet. Jumping in fright, the bird took flight, beating its wings and setting a course straight towards Marin.


“I think it’s going to roost on Mt. Tam,” Wee Wee observed.


“Let them eat cock,” One Night Only declared without pity.


“I’m blowing this popsicle stand,” Do Her Well decided, having spontaneously recovered from her heartbreak. “Who’s with me?” She climbed aboard the train, quickly joined by Hoseblower, Twerxes, Cockamole, Ska Skank, Sleazy, Bitch’s Bitch and Just Arno.


“Should we tell her it’s a children’s toy?” asked Don’t Tell My Wife About The Big Cock Chains.



Just Doesn’t Get It shook his head. “Some eggs are better left unhatched.”