SFH3 Run #1959: CTD's dirty thirty
: 12/16/2019
: Victoria Manalo Draves Park
: Cum Test Dummy
: Do Her Well

Just Jim waited patiently as the school's doors closed for the day, the last of the children departing. Darkness approached, but instead of the streets growing still, more activity was stirring.

"I heard rumors that Joe Pubic Hair has surfaced." Just Jim hadn't heard Dick Tracy's Pussy coming, and he could barely keep himself from startling.

"You shouldn't be here," he said gruffly.

"Oh, come on," she couldn't hide the grin from her voice. "How will you ever learn about the hottest gossip regarding where Sperm Donor has been spending his evening or who he got his cool new blanket from. Or what about all the thrilling news that Gorilla Whorefare brings from other kennels... surprise, they've been quaffing PBR and Tecate."

"Precisely," he muttered. "Blowing my cover, and for what?"

"Oh, you'll see how I'll blow you..."

But the voice he heard didn't come from Dick Tracy's Pussy...


Can't Rush Anal revved her motorcycle, nearly colliding into Just Doesn't Get It as she cut the corner and he cut the light. Sirens resounded through the air behind them.

"They're on to us!" One and Done shouted after him. "Quick, into the alley!"

"But trail doesn't go that way!" Circle Jerk shouted after him.

"One day, Cirque du So Lame's child will not live in a world where revelry is criminalized, where personal choices are torn from our grasp, where independent thought is villified!" shouted One and Done.

"I definitely do not know that man," Cirque du So Lame pushed his stroller more quickly in the other direction. "Stop taking pictures, Dick Simmons."

"You can come out now," Muppet Dick called out, "It was just a shift change."

"No he can't," Sir Menage a Lot cried. "That motherfucker just sniffed out a backcheck! On on!"


"Take one move, and I let go of the trigger," Fuck Buddy raised an eyebrow at Just Jim. "This whole place will go sky high. Dead man's switch."

"Who are you?" Dick Tracy's Pussy stepped back. "What do you want from us?"

"Your little money laundering scheme is ending now. Your plan to take over all of the California craft breweries and turn them into pawns of Anheuser Busch is finished."

"Fuck Buddy! Fuck Buddy!" Millimeter Peter skidded to a halt beside her. "This isn't him-- he isn't them... Fuck. It's the other Jim. Wash This Asshole."  He took a deep breath. "Sorry, we were operating on the wrong intel."

"Well that doesn't do me any good," Fuck Buddy said. "Shit. I guess you're free to go."


"You have the cash?" one figure said to another from a dark alleyway.

"Yes. You know what to do."

Papers shuffled and the pull of a zipper resounded through the silence.

"Does it smell like really well-used kitty litter to you?"

"It smells like my ex!"

"Thanks for the image."

Muff Daddy went one way, Do Her Well went another.


"You have to find out Just Courtney's secrets," Cream Throat Willie grabbed Vaginia Dentata by the collar. "You must discover her weakness."

"Her former co-worker is right over there, maybe I'll go and talk--"

"No! You must look into her eyes, into the windows to her very soul. And you will know."

"Oh-kay." Vagina Dentata backed away slowly.


"I think there's a hidden code in the trail," Humpy Slowcum panted. "Seems like Cum Test Dummy is sending all of us a message!"

"That's it!" Five Angry Inches shouted. "The number in the backcheck is but one of a combinations of signs that we must unite!"

Just Molly stopped and began to back away slowly.

"If you take together the thirty from the backcheck, plus the eight checks on the trail itself, remembering that it was the 1959th running of the hash, and removing the number of days from the solstice, that means the buried treasure is in the middle of Golden Gate Park in the Rose Garden!"

"How exactly did you come up with all of that?" Good Shit asked him. "Nevermind, think of all the kegs we can buy! Let's go!"

"I just thought it was a birthday pun..." Humpy Slowcum said to no one.


Rock Cawk stood on the rooftop, pouring champagne for himself and Cockamole. "All is going according to plan."

"Is it?" Banana In Public stepped beside him.  "Look more closely."

Below them in the streets, a car was slowly moving backwards, while a man and a woman struggled over a glass bottle. He ripped it from her grasp, holding it triumphantly, noticing only at the last moment that the vehicle was on its way towards Cirque du So Lame's child, who had been somehow abandoned in the middle of the roadway. Leaping for the passenger side door, he grasped the emergency brake, pulling the car to a halt at the last moment.

"Your days of trafficking rare wines through the recycling bins are over," One Night Only announced proudly.

"You see," Banana in Public added, "Tuna has been working as a double agent for quite some time."

"Just Jim knew all of the drop off points that had been planned," One Night Only added. "It was just a matter of waiting... and avoiding any complications. It's so nice to watch him work... they don't call him Rectology for nothing."

"Not that it wasn't a good effort on your end-- Sleazy distracted the walker's crowd, and Just Get It Over With delayed them by getting a drink at the bar, all so Muff Daddy could make his typical exchange-- too bad it was also to one of our agents."

"Wee Wee and Cosmo have the black site ready for interrogation," Banana added. "You should see the notes they have from Bloqueen. Hand Pump's van has already left with your woman."

"Three Fingers and Hoseblower won't let us go without a fight," Rock Cawk raised an eyebrow. "You try anything here, and you're done. It's just the two of you..."

"Maybe more than that..." One Night Only winked at Orianal Express.

"No need," Banana In Public tipped his glass. "Your funds are cut off, and there's no better strategy than starving the beast. Soon enough, your allies' true loyalties will reveal themselves. One missed payment? Two? Who knows?" Laughing, he walked off into the night.

"The way forward isn't marked," Cum Test Dummy's grip on her glass was tight. "Do you think it was enough?" She asked CPA, who was calmly cutting the cake.

"Five Angry Inches and Good Shit really enjoyed your trail," Fuck Norris approached them. "The backcheck thirty in particular. It's so sad they weren't able to make it up here, but the urge to stop and smell the roses was just too much."

Cum Test Dummy's fingers relaxed just a bit.

"Happy birthday," CPA clinked glasses.

"Cheers," she said, with a wide grin.

The End