SFH3 Run #1968
: 02/17/2020
: Great Highway and Sloat
: Miss Delivery
: Do Her Well

"Welcome, welcome," a tall figure in a gray jacket stood bathed in the harsh light of a street lamp. "You may call me Mr. Muff Daddy. This is Just Get It Over With, our sexy maid."

Just Get It Over With waved from where she was moving a pile of sand carefully onto another part of the sidewalk.

"You may wonder why I have called you all here today." Muff Daddy coughed. "First, you all owe me seven dollars to pay for our drinks, I don't think we can get through this one dry. Second, you will all be known by pseudonyms. And so I have given you all pseudonyms. I myself am not actually Muff Daddy, and Just Get It Over With is not actually Just Get It Over With. But tonight's activities require the utmost of discretion."

"Is there going to be a quiz afterwards?" Mr. Masterbaster wondered.

"The quiz is what exactly do you all have in common?" Mr. Muff Daddy pushed back.

"Beauty?" Madam Spermaid batted her eyelashes.

"Well it's certainly not brains," grumbled Mr. Eat My Pussy, looking askance at Mr. Bloqueen.

"I know. We are all descendants of Genghis Khan," announced Colonel Three Fingers.

"Possible," Mr. Muff Daddy allowed. "But not the point. No, unfortunate as it is to say, but each one of us has committed at least a little indiscretion in our lives."

"Well, I never!" Madam Fuck Buddy held a hand up to her mouth.

"I am almost certain you have," Mr. Gloryhole huffed under his breath.

"And one amongst us has taken advantage of this knowledge for his own personal gain. The pseudonym I have given him tonight shall be Oakey Pokey, but I will reveal his true name and hopefully his true nature... Just Dmitri!"

A tall figure stood in all black amongst the shadows of the trees. "A rather daring risk you have taken Mr. Muff Daddy. But you all have already shown your vulnerability, and you must know that if I am arrested for my crimes the truth... the whole truth... will come out. I have taken care to preserve your secrets, but Mr. Muff Daddy has been digging. I will point out-- would it better behoove you to seek your vengeance upon me-- or upon him?"

With that, the streetlight flickered out, a shot range out, a car alarm began to sound, and several dogs growled and snapped. When the light flickered back on, Just Dmitri was lying on the ground, bleeding as he breathed his last.

"Probably shouldn't have named him Oakey Pokey," Madam Do Her Well pointed to the bloody stick at his side.

"And now one of us has yet another secret! One of us is the killer!" Mr. Muff Daddy exclaimed.

"Well we all had motive, clearly," Miss Peek-a-booby reasoned. "It could have been any one of us."

"But only one of it, it was," Mr. Muff Daddy determined. "And look at the stick! Covered in flour."

"My dogs can help with that," Sir Ramrod declared. "We will hunt the killer down, and then we can present him--"

"Or her--" Miss Tonya Hardon interrupted.

"Or her-- to the police. And then there will be no need for the cops to go digging in any of our business."

"Hear hear!" Mr. E=Mc Fucked declared. "A spritely show!"

"Look, the flour goes over there!" Miss Delivery declared, wiping his hands on his shorts.

"After him!" Professor Queen yelled.

"Or her!" Miss Tonya Hardon interrupted.

"After her!" Professor Queen yelled.

"So what's your secret?" Mr. Bierectional asked Mr. Vagina Dentata as they ran along following the killer's trail.

"It wouldn't be much of a secret then, would it?" Mr. Vagina Dentata replied.

"They say confession is good for the soul," Mr. Bierectional wheedled.

"Confession is good for a plea bargain and not much else," muttered Mr. Sperm Donor as he passed. 

"Ah, would you know from experience?" wondered Miss Tuna on Top as they turned yet another corner. "Odd, the killer seems to be circling back to where we started."

"I have a vivid imagination," Mr. Sperm Donor announced.

"Alas! Alas!" Muff Daddy emerged from the shadows of Stern Grove. "Look at what they've done to Just Get It Over With!"

Just Get It Over With was lying in full repose under the moonlight as if she were asleep. Mr. Muff Daddy held a hand above her mouth and shook his head.

"It seems that she was forced to take too many sleeping pills," Mr. Muff Daddy frowned. "Her business outgrew her own ingenuity, I fear."

"One of those had my name on it!" Ms. Cockulus Oculus complained.

"Ah! Motive! Motive!" Mr. Bierectional jumped up and down.

"I have an alibi!" announced Ms. Oculus. "I was with Mr. Six Tits a Week and Colonel Backside Banger."

"At the same time?" wondered Mr. Hoseblower.

"Naturally," Ms. Oculus batted her eyelashes.

"We're wasting time, and the trail of the killer is growing cold," Mr. Muff Daddy rounded them up.

"How can it get cold, it's flour?" wondered Mr. Bierectional, but they were on their way once more. In the distance stood a white van under a single streetlight.

The group grew nearer, eyes locked on the trail of the flour as it led to the back of the van. The streetlight flickered, and then went out.

The door of the van popped open, and a man hopped out. "I... am... your singing beer man..."

Pow! went the shot of a pistol. Miss Cockulus Oculus screamed, and Mr. Bierectional fainted.

"They've shot Mr. Hand Pump!" screeched Mr. Muff Daddy.

"Oh, that's all right," Mr. Hand Pump sat up. "It'll buff out."

"Mr. Hand Pump," Mr. Muppet Dick ran up. "Did you see who did this?"

"No," Mr. Hand Pump shook his head. "But I've got an IPA and a lager in the back, you look like you could use a drink."

"I say we all reveal each other's secrets, right now," Miss Tuna demanded. "That way we'll be able to figure out who best fits the profile of a killer."

"Mr. Ramrod, Mr. Sperm Donor, Professor Queen, and Madam Spermaid aren't from around here," Miss Peek-a-booby pointed out. "Mighty suspicious if you ask me."

"Ms. Tonya Hardon is absolutely covered in a suspicious rash," Mr. Muppet Dick announced.

"I think it's more suspicious not to have a rash, these days," muttered Mr. Wash This Asshole.

"He's wearing his wife's clothing," Gingervitis pointed to Just Doesn't Get It.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Just Doesn't Get It retorted.

"When it doesn't fit..."

"You must acquit! A-Ha!" Just Doesn't Get It spat back. "But as it so happens, my keen eyes have alerted me to the true criminal amongst us, the one who has led us after his trail all across the city in the darkness. Just David, Just Serg, come forward."

Two police officers emerged from the bushes.

"I went ahead and called you to the crime scene because I am not afraid of wearing women's very trendy t-shirts, and I am not afraid of speaking the truth. While everyone else was running around burying the evidence like dog shit in the sand, I was watching, I was waiting, I was..."

"Hurry up or I'm going back into my coma," Just Get It Over With grumbled from where they had dragged and left her on the sidewalk.

"It was Miss Delivery! By the Zoo! With the Oak Stick!" Just Doesn't Get It pointed with a flourish.

The crowd turned as one to take in Miss Delivery standing by the side of the van, hurriedly scrubbing the remnants of flour from his hands.

"Oh. Shoot." Miss Delivery looked around and suddenly ran off into the darkness.

Just Serg shrugged. "It's probably best he's gone. We aren't real cops anyways."

Just David nodded. "I just answered the Craigslist ad."

"OK, Mr. Hand Pump," Just Doesn't Get It nodded.  "Take 'em away. I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife."

Do Her Well shrugged. "The odds are good, but the goods are also odd."

The End