"Hi bitch, welcome to hell," Cockulus Oculus smiled thinly. "Now, I'm sure you're going to whine something like 'This isn't what was in all of my little Sunday School stories' but in my opinion, Dante did a really good sendup." She kissed her fingers and pointed to the sky.
"Which one are we at? Lust?" Cockamole wiggled her eyebrows.
"Sullenness?" suggested Muppet Dick.
"No," Cockulus Oculus thwacked Muff Daddy with her clipboard. "Circle 6.9. Beer Mile."
Not even allowing the group an opportunity to recover, she lined them up ruthlessly and dressed them down one by one. "Here," she handed Humpy Slowcum a can of non-alcoholic beer. "I think you'll find it just as disruptive on your lower colon."
"Here!" she stuffed a timing device into Just Jeorgina's hand. "You better record to the nanosecond... or else."
Ruthlessly, she gave One and Done a orange bucket to wet the field with, and Backwash and Tonya Hardon were assigned to vomit patrol. Port-a-Hottie was given a whip to use on the DFLs ("But be careful they don't like it too much"), while Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring and Cum Test Dummy were equipped with cameras that auto-sent images to the nosiest relative on everyone's contact lists.
"On your mark, get set, go!" screamed Cockulus Oculus, and the force of her will popped the tabs of every single ice cold beer.
Hoseblower, Cuming Mutha, Shaft, and Tricrapylete thought they could split their penance, but their alcohol quadrupled in ABV in response. Boner Marrow found his shoes mysteriously switching from spikes to HOKAs at the least convenient moments. Dickweed felt a shiver down his spine as Just Michael chased at his heels. ("Virgin? A likely story," laughed Cockulus Oculus.) Uber Luber began to wonder if he would re-live his naming story.
Just Diana and Look Who's Coming to Dinner found their wine turning back into water, but not the hangover part. Five Angry Inches found it more like one angry mile, and Just Spencer, Just Chris, and Just Scottie wondered if it was possible for them to escape ("No!")
"Oh, you think you're done?" Cockulus Oculus looked at Do Her Well, bent over trying to catch her breath. "Here." She shoved a bag of flour at Do Her Well, who was frankly helpless to deny any involvement in any trail setting ever. She took off into the night.
"Same goes for the rest of you!" Cockulus Oculus chased the pack into the night. "Except for you," she smiled at Just Get It Over With, who was still gamely chugging away. "I'll wait."
On the 6.9th circle of hell that was beer mile, the pack found sobriety was not a protection from mental torture. Fucker came to the first check only to find all of the pack had headed back the way they came. Cum Test Dummy tried to reason with Dickweed as he leapt across the hood of a car, while Crabs was assigned the task of rolling Five Angry Inches up the sidewalk only for him to roll back down again. On All Fours couldn't keep Vagina Dentata walking in a straight line ("It's second hand drunkenness. Blame Just Get It Over With.") Dick Ass Mother Fucker found himself being the voice of reason and had to go have a lie down over it.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Hand Pump held up a hand. "Is any of this really necessary?"
Cockulus Oculus frowned, considering. "Yes?"
"I've seen goodness in these hashers' hearts," Hand Pump told her. "I've seen them clean up their trash, look out for each other when injured. I've seen them ask how your day is, and actually listen for the answer. Of all the people in the world who deserve punishment, these surely are not at the top of the list."
"Oh, fine," Cockulus Oculus said. "Torture's off."
"Hooray!" yelled the pack.
"Hooray!" shouted Do Her Well, and sucked her beer backwards up her Go Girl spout.
Hand Pump shrugged. "Some people can't be helped."
Just Michael: 8:44
Team SHIT: 9:38
Rocky Bowel Movement 11:03
Do Her Well: 11:43
Boner Marrow: 12:01
Just Scottie: 12:38
Five Angry Inches: 14:07
Just Diana and Look Who's Coming To Dinner
One and Done 15:28
Humpy Slowcum 15:40
Uber Luber: 15:58
Just Spencer: 17:33
Just Get It Over With: 51:33