A strange group gathered conspicuously around a building a few blocks away from the Bay to Breakers r*ce course. Every once in a while, Cosmopolitits would emerge from the window of the building and throw small gifts to the gathered mob.
“Oh, I think we found the pack.” Whorifist told Primal Vagina.
Cocktistic eyed Kramalot, who had adjusted her wetsuit to a more comfortable position. “Uh-oh, what did you lose this time?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” replied Kram, “this is for her.” She gestured towards Missy Pissy, who smiled and began to break into song. “Tiiiiiiities-”
“On on!” called Geordi La Foreskin.
Elsewhere in the city, the same strange group could be seen making its way through a local farmer’s market. Side Bitch and Can’t Rush Anal tasted cherries while Grassy Ass haggled for a deal on flower pots. Fellowship of the Cockring tried to usher all of the pack into a mysterious doorfront, up a treacherous staircase, and finally into a world of freely flowing beer and cocktails.
Hand Pump looked around as the scene began to unfold. Miss Delivery and Just Mischief had exchanged sunglasses. Cockamole and Sir Menage a Lot were showering Shut the Chuck Up in single dollar bills, with some coaching from Donald Dick. Dealt It Felt It Smelt and Flying Starfish were attempting a different kind of shower. Just Zak appeared to be bleeding, with Bloody Nipple Triage coming to his aid.
Hand Pump cleared his throat, but only Tuna on Top heard. “Hey everyone, shut up and listen!” she tried, but the crowd raged on. “I think you know what needs to happen here,” Rock Cock said meaningfully.”
“You’re right,” Tuna on Top said with a sigh, then cleared her throat. “TITTIES!!” Everyone turned towards her. “Great, and now that I have your attention, Hand Pump needs to tell us something!”
Hand Pump explained what he knew to be inevitable. “The only wisdom that I can impart here is that you should enjoy these events to the fullest. Bay to Blackout is a force that is both mysterious yet also as predictable as clockwork. These thermoses (thermi?) will be drunk, whether they’re filled with margaritas or piña colado. Hashers will find their way to this bar, whether it’s located on 2nd or 3rd Avenue. And this weekend will be collectively forgotten, because that - the uncertainty, the great unknown, deeper than any ocean and more inviting than any beach - is the magic of Bay to Blackout.” With that, he downed the remainder of his Ardbeg and left the pack to experience the magic firsthand.