SFH3 Run #1948: PSL (Pumpkin Spice traiL)
|:||Cum Test Dummy|
|:||Do Her Well|
Awwwww, SNAP. Do you know what time it is? It's 6:15 bitches, and Muff Daddy has just pulled out some stale Cheetos. Millimeter Peter is rolling up in his wagon and Circle Jerk is giving The Uniballer advice on 401Ks. It's the motherfucking San Francisco Hash House Harriers Pumpkin Spice Latte trail, bitches.
You think you've seen danger? Well you better listen to Hand Pump and keep off that bathroom ramp, sir, or you might get a citation from the San Francisco Parks Department. WHOA, watch out, because now Cream Throat Willie has sprinted off to sniff out some pumpkin spice deliciousness. You think you know what Cum Test Dummy is thinking? NO ONE KNOWS WHAT CUM TEST DUMMY IS THINKING.
We've got Cuming Mutha dashing past The Ramp, and what does Infinite Butthole do? If you said follow Miss Delivery and the pack, you would be out of your GOD DAMNED MIND, because that motherfucker is shortcutting like a boss. Aww fuck, there's a check on the streetcorner that Just Doesn't Get It missed by a mile, but Sir Menage-A-Lot comes in and solves that bastard like Bobby Fisher with a Rubik's cube.
You think we're gonna run through that weird park by the houseboats? You bet your sweet asshole that we're running through that weird park by the houseboats because that's where the MOTHERFUCKING PUMPKIN SPICE LIQUEUR IS!!!!
Oh yeah, Cosmo's got a swig, Can't Eat Pussy's got a swig, even Tonya Hardon's got a swig, and they're all so thirsty for it that Crabs can't even get a drop. Sorry Crabs.
Just when life was simple and sweet what did Cum Test Dummy throw in? A motherfucking Turkey Eagle split, bitches. That shit didn't even make chalk talk. Do you know what that means? All the Eagles are gonna get lost as fuck by that motherfucking backcheck. Do Her Well's lost. Dickweed's lost. Dick Simmon's lost. Deadbeat's lost. Dick Ass Mother Fucker's lost. The entire D gang is confused as fuck and they won't get their shit together until they get to the Bed Bath and Beyond parking deck. Ohhh, yeah.
You better believe the pack rejoins once they hit that Interstate offramp, and suddenly the FRBs can't even see that check in the darkness. Suddenly Wrinklepecker is running past Just Jim, and Do Her Well is throwing some motherfucking chalk across the freeway hollering 'Dick Ass' at the top of her lungs. Cockamole and Golden Snowball are turning the corner, and do you know what that sign means?
It's motherfucking BEER NEAR, bitches, because the van is dead ahead right next in between those Buddhists and those soccer moms, OH YEAH. Hoseblower's gonna get some beer, Bierectional's gonna get some beer, even CPA is gonna get some beer, because BEER IS MOTHERFUCKING DELICIOUS.
But WAIT-- DID YOU STOP YOUR STRAVA? DID YOU STOP YOUR STRAVA, BUCK FUCKA? Well turn that asshole back on, Fuck Buddy, because Cum Test Dummy's motherfucking trail isn't done with you yet. You're gonna rush back to the start, One and Done, because you know what this trail is?
IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING PUMPKIN.
And if you thought you were done, kids, you are wrong because now that ORANGE FOOD has rolled out, and Shaft's got a cookie in one hand and a potato chip in the other. Backwash says you're gonna believe in pumpkin-flavored red vines after tonight because we're gonna crank the squash cultivar flavoring up to TEN.
And don't leave yet, because we've got crimes and transplants a plenty, if by plenty you mean one, and that's Pussy Passport. Don't worry, though, because Masterbaster is going to drink for Allahu Ackbark, Circle Jerk is gonna drink for Circle Jerk, and Mouth Down South is gonna drink to forget this mother fucking night.
You've never seen Gloryhole and Muppet Dick scamper off so fast to the on after, and not even Dick Tracy's Pussy can keep Wee Wee from quaking... in excitement.
Because remember kiddos, Pumpkin Spice trail cums but once a year, but PUMPKIN SPICE...