SFH3 Run #1957: Shafts of Light Ugly Sweater Trail
|:||Sydney G. Walton Square|
|:||Shaft & Cuming Mutha|
|:||Do Her Well|
The bushes nearby rustled as if something small was running through them. A figure emerged from the darkness, running determinedly down the sidewalk.
"Ah! You startled me!" She screamed, as she bumped into a small man. "Who is it?" She looked more closely in the darkness-- there was something familiar about the bristling of that mustache. "Master Skinner?"
"Shhh!" He silenced her. "I go by Cuming Mutha for now."
"What happened to you?" she asked, staring at his transformed body.
"Just enjoying our evening game, Just Courtney," he said loudly, as two people passed them in the darkness. "Hello there, Tonya Hardon, Blackout."
"Good trail, Cuming Mutha!" replied Tonya, and Blackout nodded, and they passed by.
Cuming Mutha dropped his voice down into a whisper. "I know, but your identity must be protected! Shredder's evil plot came to fruition earlier. We've been transformed from our natural state into these useless human forms. I've been forced to the will of a man called Hand Pump and his colleague Muff Daddy-- I think they have nothing to do with it entirely, but their determination is iron and irresistible. We must find Shredder, but to do that, we must trace his influence through the night. Do you think you can help me investigate?"
She nodded. "Of course, of course." She turned to the group and dove in.
"So how did you like the run?" she asked the man to her left.
"It was totally radical! We went far out for sure!" he replied, then dropped to a whisper. "It's Leonardo, by the way, but I am going by Good Shit Lollicock. Let me tell you something, this group is insane. That one called Deadbeat kept turning up behind me all the time, and I heard that Dick Simmons was taking pictures of some genitalia made of lights."
"Keep your eyes peeled, we've got to find Shredder before the night is over."
"Or what, we'll get stuck like this?" He shivered in fear.
"No, I have to work tomorrow. Some of us still have to hold down jobs." She moved on.
"You enjoyed tonight's trail?" She moved into a group of people. One of them eyed her up and down.
"Yeah, totally tubular." Her eyes widened, and she drew him off to the side by grabbing at his bag of Cheetos.
"Who are you?" she asked, crumbs dropping from her motuh.
"It's Michaelangelo," He replied. "But call me Humpy Slowcum. Look, most of these assholes couldn't plot their way out of a paper bag. Three Fingers got lost while standing next to a Muni map. Cream Throat Willie and Just Doesn't Get It shrieked and held each other when they saw a rat-- not fucking likely that either of them are the nemesis in question. Who's Your Daddy and Do Her Well are wasting the entirety of their mental energies and then some re-analyzing the last hour of fucking running, and the extent of Sperm Donor's plotting is the appropriate ratio of orange food to beer he's ingesting. Tuna seemed awfully suspicious, though..."
"That's because it's Raphael," Tuna came up behind them, and glared at their startled glances. "Don't even start with me-- it seems like I've got a hell of a lot further along breaking down this group than either of you two. First, you have to eliminate the obvious. Dick Ass Mother Fucker always seems like he's up to something, and Wash This Asshole is way too quiet, but neither of them are in on anything. Bush And A Rack, Miss Delivery, and The Uniballer are outliers, I'll admit, they've been away for far too long. But I discovered they simply got sick and tired of these assholes, and can you blame them? Rocky Mountain Oyster in that getup of his is attracting way too much attention to be launching anything except for an attempt to scorch our eyeballs."
"So that's a whole lot of nothing," 'Just Courtney' pointed out. "What else do you have for us?"
"Mother Hentai, Cockamole, and Cum Test Dummy are engaged in a heinous plot, but I think it's a worthy goal, so we'll just let them lie," 'Tuna' kept going as if she hadn't been interrupted. "The adoration of Masterbaster's and Wrinklepecker's pooches makes them beyond reproach-- no mastermind of darkness would be so loved by canines. Gloryhole, Tongueless's Penis, and Worst Bottom Ever all have alibies for when we would have been dosed, and that just leaves..."
"Shaft!" cried a voice through the darkness.
"It's not Fucker, it's Donatello," the man said. "And Shaft is the key to all this-- he followed Master Splinter through the night, he distracted us and drove us to despair-- all so he could keep us in these useless human forms."
"Well," Cuming Mutha said, looking at On All Fours. "Perhaps not entirely useless..."
"Grab him!" yelled Tuna, and Just Courtney spun around in a dance-ninja-kick, taking Shaft down and causing a bottle of a fluorescent green liquid to fall out of his bag.
"Foiled again, Shredder," crowed Good Shit Lollicock, as he swallowed the potion, passing it over to Tuna, Humpy Slowcum, and Fucker. They shuddered and shrunk down into their true, turtle forms.
"Hmm," Cuming Mutha's mustache bristled. "Looks like you four have this covered. C'mon, dear."
"Master Splinter!" they cried, but he just shook his head and climbed into the Subaru, driving off into the night.