“What are we doing tonight, Tonya Hardon?”
“The same thing we do every night, Do Her Well. Try to take over the world.”
“Oh, how are we going to do that?”
Tonya Hardon looked around at the assembled masses, Tuna on Top hollowing out a hidden compartment on her crutches, Muff Daddy inhaling ten Whoppers at once, Cockamole trying to decide if Just Jasper would look good in roller skates.
“It’s a simple plot, Do Her Well, even simple enough for you.”
“You think so, Tonya Hardon?”
“I think so. It involves… dicks.”
“Dicks?” asked Operation Golden Flow.
“No!?” shouted Do Her Well in confusion. “She said… pricks!”
“That’s the same thing!” Tonya Hardon pulled her away. “Never mind!” She grabbed a sack of flour, shoved it into Do Her Well’s hands, and ran away. After some confusion where Do Her Well attempted to drink the flour and drop a blob of Dickweed’s beer on the ground, she followed.
“Are you pondering what I am pondering?” asked Tonya Hardon, as they ran through the streets of West Portal.
“How do we know that One Night Only and One And Done aren’t actually the same person if we’ve never seen them in the same place and they both have One in their names?”
“No!” Tonya Hardon scrawled out another dick on the ground in anger. She pulled out a small package. “Do you know what these are, Do Her Well?”
“Did you steal those female condoms from the Walgreens?”
“No,” Tonya Hardon groaned.
“Did you steal them from Pepe Le Poop?”
“They’re Tricrapylete’s ear buds!” Tonya exploded, throwing a blob of flour into a passing vehicle.
“I didn’t know he’s into aural sex,” Do Her Well pondered.
“First we give them to Hello Titties,” Tonya Hardon pretended that she did not hear Do Her Well. “They we say that he stole them for Just Doesn’t Get It. He was tapping on pipes with Shaft—mightly suspiciously I’ll add.”
“Sounding’s pretty gross,” Do Her Well agreed.
“We get Stinky Floss to cut a path in the PO for us, luring John Handcock astray. Gobble My Ass will worry, but not as much as Bierectional, because he thought he had cornered the market on leafy greens that hashers hate.”
“At the moment when tensions are high, Brown Eye will try to diffuse the situation by wishing Millimeter Peter and himself a happy birthday, but that’s when we’ll bring out Millimeter Peter’s parents.”
“We have Millimeter Peter’s parents? Where?” Do Her Well looked into the sack of flour that was growing emptier by the moment.
“Hence… the Lime-a-ritas,” Tonya Hardon said, staring into the distance from atop a mountain of sand. “Do Her Well, do you have the checklist?”
“Stylish outerwear,” Do Her Well read.
“I saw Mary Tyler Whore here. Check.” Tonya Hardon nodded.
“A growing sense of inner resentment and misery,” Do Her Well read.
“We definitely lost as least one visitor. Check.”
“Nascent alcoholism,” Do Her Well continued.
“I saw Hand Pump bring out the last of the Dark and Stormies,” Tonya Hardon concluded. “And check. Now we wait.”
The night turned cold and grew dark. The two sat in silence, watching until a rustling in the bushes drew their eyes. Cosmopolitits popped out. “Aha! Found you!” The Perfect Woman, Circle Jerk, and the rest of the pack tumbled out after her.
“What a dastardly plan!” cried Got Wood.
“I’ve never seen such a horrible scheme!” added Fucker.
“To think that Millimeter Peter wants to spend his night amongst this foul crew!” added Wee Wee.
“After such a long time away,” Little Beef concluded, “I’ve discovered that with this lot of ne’er do wells, nothing ever changes. Much to my chagrin. Thanks for the trail.”
“Thanks?” asked Tonya Hardon incredulously. “You’re not furious and full of outrage?”
“Oh yes, we are very mad,” Fuck Buddy replied. “Grr.”
“I can’t believe my poor friend was lost with a female virgin,” Bubbles added.
“I can’t believe I had to clean up all of those Lime-a-ritas,” Wrinklepecker groaned, rubbing his stomach. “Tears of Semen helped me out, but it was rough going after I downed the sixth one.”
“I can’t believe Bay2Blackout is over!” Miss Delivery sobbed.
“We are just so very, very angry at you horrible hares,” Dick Ass Mother Fucker concluded.
“I think they’re being sarcastic,” Do Her Well whispered to Tonya Hardon.
“Us?” Good Shit Lollicock snorted. “Never.”
“Same time next week?” Fuck Norris waved goodbye.
They're Do-Her and Ms. Hardon,
Yes, Do-Her and Ms. Hardon,
One is a genius, the other's brain’s gone.
They're two harriettes.
They can play the “clarinet.”
They're Do-Her and Ms. Hardon, Hardon, Hardon, Hardon, Hardon, Hardon, Hardon, Hardon, Hardon!