SFH3 Run #1843
: 09/25/2017
: Progress Park
: Ru Ru Rimmin, Uber Luber
: Do Her Well

Snap, snap, snap.


It was a rivalry as old as time, ensconced in the halls of history alongside the Greeks versus the Trojans, the Yankees versus the Mets, and Crunchy versus Puffy Cheetos.


Snap, snap, snap.


Dick Simmons dove under a bush and took out his camera, no other photographer able to capture such a pivotal moment in history.


Snap, snap, snap.


I Cunt Here You wandered oblivious between the two parties nearing each other, Just Natalie trailing beside him. “Get down!” Muff Daddy screamed, and leapt on top of them, pushing them out of the way.


Snap, snap, snap.


“So, can I use your restroom?” Rent Whore asked the Crossfitters, choosing the fire the opening salvo.


“Sorry,” one of them said.


Snap, snap, snap.


“It’s Member’s Only.”


“Oh, yeah?” Ocean Spray taunted, pulling down her pants.


“We’re calling the cops,” one of them advised with a sneer.


“Please,” said Brown Eye. “This is the one place in the city where public urination is doing the park a favor.”


“And he would know…” added Sir Menage a Lot.


“You don’t dare to take us on,” Big Cock Chains threatened.


“Oh yeah?” the largest of the group stepped forward, holding a large piece of rope.


“You gonna beat us with that?” The Perfect Woman asked.


The man began skipping rope, alternating to do pushups and jumping jacks in between each skip.


“Oh,” The Perfect Woman sighed, disappointed, Miss Delivery stopping by his side to comfort him.


“Hey guys,” Ru Ru Rimmin interrupted nervously. “Hey guys, I think you want to… I think maybe instead of this fighting…” He looked first at Fuck Norris, who had a Crossfitter in a headlock between her thighs, then at Hand Pump who was waterboarding another one with the remains of last week’s keg. “Can’t we all just get along…”


“That’s what I say,” Weiner I Am looked up from his meditation circle.


Meanwhile, Reverse Schoolgirl was spitting beer at the hapless Crossfitters, and Just James had joined her. Millimeter Peter was pointing at a stranger’s crotch and laughing. Roman Showers had even put her book down and was getting out of the minivan.


“I only know one way to get us out of this situation,” Uber Luber squared his shoulders. “And that’s ‘On ON!’” he yelled, turning the pack onto his and Ru Ru Rimmin’s trail.


Unwillingly, the pack ran off, driven purely by their lust for beer. “This isn’t the end!” Do Her Well shook her fist at the crew, nearly tripping over Tonya Hardon as she looked back at them threateningly.


“This feels like a distraction,” Udder Moron groused.


“It’s like we’re just on a Team In Training r*n,” Fuck Buddy added.


“How would you know what that’s like?” Just Doesn’t Get It remarked, suspicious. “You haven’t done anything like that, have you?”


“Never ask about a woman’s past,” Dick Ass Mother Fucker whispered to him. “Except for that Kiwi chick, we need to come up with a name for her.”


“I know Fuck Buddy, and I know she’s not into that,” Good Shit Lollicock defended his friend.


“Yeah, stop spreading lies about good harriettes,” Douchicorn demanded. “Or at least, make them pervier lies.”


“It’s about time for the beer!” Whorifist interrupted, expertly flying over the trail crossover that left the rest of the pack flummoxed. “This is why we are hashers.” He said, sipping on the sweet nectar. Baby Got Balls gave him a high five.


“Yeah, anyone who’d rather be throwing weights around and leaping into tires should be ashamed,” Wash This Asshole declared.


“Um…” Chain Bang scuffed a foot into the ground.


“What?” Too Much Teeth pulled away from him.  “You asked me to marry you. You promised you would share your entire life with me. When, pray tell, were you going to tell me about your sordid past?”


“Babe, it was just once. I was just experimenting. You know how it is.”


Boner Malfunction nodded sympathetically, and Cum Sail Away slapped him. “Don’t defend him!” she hissed.


“Look, there’s a lot of things to like about Crossfitters,” Cockamole attempted to negotiate, wincing at the grimace Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring directed at her.


“Like,” she continued, undeterred. “Like we all love being inside our boxes,” she said. “And we sometimes go so hard that we puke, and we’re proud of it.”


Pepe le Poop was nodding. Cockamole picked up steam, “They do burpees, we do burps. They want as many snatches as possible, so do we. And we both have sketchy friend named Uncle.” She finished proudly. Primal Vagina applauded, while Just Victor and Just Miguel looked intrigued.


“She’s right,” Too Much Teeth allowed.


“The wedding’s on?” Chain Bang asked hopefully.


“Well of course, we already paid for the alcohol.”


Snap, snap, snap.




The End.