SFH3 Run #1958
: 12/09/2019
: School of the Arts, O’Shaughnessy near Portola
: Three Fingers
: Do Her Well

The corner of O'Shaughnessy and Portola had seen a lot in its day, but rarely were the humans trafficking its purvue so... indecisive.

Got Wood ran up the stairs, and then down again. Circle Jerk ran down the stairs, and then up again. All of the virgins stood on the corner with the traffic light, then all of the virgins were lost in the bushes somehow. It was worse then the group of cats that lived in the dumpsters by Mollie Stone's, and that was saying something.

"Isn't it that way?" Just Get It Over With arrived with her gang of walkers, and suddenly the entire crew was gone in the blink of an eye. The street corner went back to hoping for a mildly destructive car accident, only rousing again when Eat My Pussy went streaking past into the blur of cars about thirty minutes later.

The sidewalk at Juvenile Hall was less easily amused. Delinquents! It called out as Wee Wee Wee All The Way Home flew by. Miscreants! It cried at One And Done. Oh! Someone call the authorities! Dick Ass Mother Fucker tilted his head to the side as he slowed. "CREACHTIN! CACAWCK!" He screamed into the night, compelling the walkway to delight in the simple joy of being an inanimate object once more.

Meanwhile, the woods of Laguna Honda were moaning gently as hashers explored their depths. Hello Titties heard a sigh pass by his shoulder as he checked further into the darkness, while Muppet Dick felt the soft caress of the night's breeze. The slight creak of the eucalyptus welcomed Fucker as if to say, Come in a bit further, then I'll fall on you and keep you here forever more. Fucker backed away slowly, rejoining the pack as they dashed across the roadway in front of the MUNI bus.

"We're lost," groused RMO, as he checked the fifth direction on a four-way street. "Gloryhole's over there, and Cuming Mutha's yon, and I think 'yon' might be Australian for off trail altogether."

Further up! Further in! demanded a wide and tempting stairwell.

"I'm too old and too ornery for that Narnia bullshit," answered RMO, turning to follow Orieanal Express and Deadbeat down a dark alleyway. "There's strength in numbers, and that means other people to share an Uber if needed."

In a dark playground, a basketball bounced by itself. Five Angry Inches, Cream Throat Willy, and Cum Test Dummy ran past, but Good Shit Lollicock slowed to a halt. "Who goes there?" he asked the empty court, to no answer. The sound of the ball continued steadily. "If this playground could talk..."

"It'd say the beer's not here!" Hand Pump said, coming up behind him. Good Shit shrieked and took off into the night. Hand Pump patted the fence post. "It's the Murphy Playground after all. It always knows where the beer is."

Oh! Hashers! cried Mandalay Lane in excitement as it felt the beating of footsteps overhead. Tell Quintara Steps I say hi! It called to Blackout as he passed.

"How did you know that's where we're going?" Tuna slowed to a halt.

You can hear me? The steps would have quivered in excitement had they not been made of concrete.

"Of course, I've been hashing in SF for years now. I'm very fluent in stairs." Tuna explained.

Well of course you're going to the other staircase-- no hare could resist pointlessly running the pack down a set up steps only to go up another.
"Fair," Tuna nodded before continuing on her way.

Oh my, what a fine specimen, remarked the traffic circle at Kensington Way. Love the camo, sweetheart.
Just Doesn't Get It dashed on, only to be grabbed forcibly by Three Fingers and redirected onto the Public Park steps. The cop car trailing him was forced to forgoe its pursuit and continue driving onwards into the darkness.

I always fall for the bad boys, swooned the circle.

"Now this here is virgin territory," announced Three Fingers, arriving at the Bengal Steps.

"I have certainly laid these ones before," Do Her Well contradicted him, waving a finger in the air.

"Me as well," Bloqueen asserted. "It was a veritable orgy."

The steps grew even darker red, then became quite craggy as the debate continued.

"Pics or it didn't happen," Three Fingers demanded.

Whatever happened to discretion? What of respect and common decency? wondered the stairs to the darkness, but there was no answer from that crowd.

The crew came to a stop at the appropriately named Agua Way by the Reservoir.  "Who needs water when you can have beer?" pointed out Wash This Asshole.

I'll have you know that my resources have put out five fires in the last year, and everyone has been able to flush their toilets at least twice per session. What have you done lately? demanded the reservoir, but Wash This Asshole was too busy toasting Mother Hentai to give it any mind.

"When I was getting my chicken, I asked the cashier what he thought these streets would see tonight," One Night Only told Cosmo. "And he said 'Probably lots of flour and beer.'"

"Wow-- was he psychic?" wondered Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring.

"He was Three Fingers' son," answered Three Fingers. "But I haven't told him anything about the hash since he was six, so there you go."

"Having a third eye is more useful than having a third finger," pointed out Tongueless's Penis.

"I don't have to be psychic to tell you what this darkened lot will see in about a month," Hoseblower chimed in as they arrived back at the start. "The MLK Day hash potatoes are being harvested as we speak, and we'll be sure to fill the darkness with beer and revelry besides."

The eucalyptus above moaned their approval.

The End