SFH3 Run #2192: Tour de Franzia
: 05/13/2024
: Washington Square Park
: Four time Trail of the Year award winner: Lost in Foreskin with special guest Dirty Man Colada
: Do Her Well

“You may not believe this, but every word I am telling you is factually correct.” Lost in Foreskin lowered his sunglasses and stared towards Coit Tower. “The Tour de Franzia jersey is actually the center of a massive conspiracy involving sex, gambling, and money laundering.”

 Dirty Man Colada picked up a box and weighed it in his hands.

“You see THUNDERPISS over there? Is that even his real name? Do they legally allow you to capitalize hash names now?” Lost In Foreskin shook his head. “I digress. Any of them could be in on the plot. Three Fingers, Cuming Mutha, Fucker. You may think because they have been hashers for centuries they would be devoid of suspicion. But the criminals we are going after have been in-bedding themselves for longer than we first realized. Hand Pump, yikes, watch that keg!”  

Hand Pump narrowly avoided Circle Jerk, while Famous Anus moved his cape aside and generously made room. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Hand Pump chided him. “Quit being a backseat beermeister.”

“If you back out now, you may still be in danger,” Lost In Foreskin continued. “I’m sorry I’ve gotten you involved, Dirty Man Colonic.”

“It’s Man Colada.”

“You understand the task at hand, because I sent you a twenty page post-it note attached to a carrier pigeon. Wine Rack was watching your place and told me you picked up the note after it had fallen in a pile of feces.”

“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” Muff Daddy popped a Whopper into his mouth.

“Yes, of course, of course,” Lost In Foreskin pulled Dirty Man Colada after him. “Trust no one,” he whispered through gritted teeth as they both took off running down the sidewalk.


“What are you looking at?” Dirty Man Colada asked as they had paused at the cable car turnaround.

Dickweed is wearing the jersey, I repeat, Dickweed is wearing the jersey.” Lost In Foreskin stared at a grainy image on the face of his watch. “Cockamole is in the lead… and she’s stopping for pictures at Lombard—perhaps she is trying to lure me into a false sense of security.  King of Bedbugs is in front now, closely followed by Boner Marrow and Cum Test Dummy. But what’s this? Dickweed is leading them all astray!”

“Why didn’t we just make the marks clearer?” asked Dirty Man Colada.

“Man Koolaid, have I explained nothing?”

“Not really?”

“And Do Her Well wins by a tit!” Lost In Foreskin cheered, looking up from his watch. “We must be off. Bonne chance!”


“So you see, the deliberate misdirection of a well-placed arrow will help us sort out the pure hashers, such as Blowfish here diligently probing Pier 39, from potential artificers such as Wash This Asshole, who remains my top suspect as of five seconds ago.”

Dirty Man Colada snored gently by the stranger in the parklet.

“It’s quite clear that Exaggerated Crack and Choke Me Daddy are professionals, but not of the criminal kind. Five Angry Inches has an innocent demeanor, but we may have to thoroughly interrogate him later to make sure there isn’t a dangerous underbelly he’s hiding. Humpy Slowcum always seems to be plotting, and Circle Jerk has told me at least two mind-boggling chickpea facts tonight, which is concerning that my mind was boggled by chickpea.”

“Even worse,” Lost in Foreskin frowned. “The virgin is in the lead! He ran off on the correct trail, leaving Uber Luber and Muppet Dick in his dust. Sweaty Betty picked up on his escape almost immediately, and One and Done wasn’t fooled for long either. But a virgin? First in Tour de Franzia? This may be exactly the sort of aberrant behavior we are looking for. Oh, wait. Nevermind, Dickweed’s got it again.”

Lost in Foreskin handed the box over and descended the stairs rapidly, pulling Dirty Man Colada out of his respite down after him. “We will keep an eye on that one,” he resolved.


“So what are we going to do once we figure out who is behind this conspiracy?” Dirty Man Colada asked.

Diarrhetos seems like he is on to something, but Pomegranate Pullout and Just Doesn’t Get It would rather pose for pictures at Coit Tower than focus. Rip Van Stinkle isn’t having any of their bullshit though. I’m sorry, Dirty Manclaw, did you say something? It’s very loud here.” Lost in Foreskin made an effort to raise his voice over the rushing water. “They are going down the wooden steps, oof! Thank god Peg Me and Lace Me didn’t trip, he would have taken them out like bowling balls there. Fuck Buddy and Hoseblower are on the tail of Crabs and Slug. Do Crabs have tails?”

At that moment, Dickweed rounded the corner.

“Holy shit, you surprised me. Looks like my man on the inside was running late.”

“Do you need a restroom?” Dickweed asked.

“No, but you will!” Lost in Foreskin and Dirty Man Colada ran off to the final stage.


“I don’t think we’re any closer to cracking this thing,” Dirty Man Colada shook his head. “See, Just Chinmay and In The Ass Dear are pounding it up the hill, and Minor 69er is leading Shaft and On All Fours down a secret alley. E=McFucked has outwitted Just Cam and Pussy Crusher—odd, that, but Just Get It Over With is making sure they are recovering well. Funny, but the only person I don’t see is Dick Simmons.”

Dirty Man Colada!” Lost in Foreskin covered his mouth.

“Oh, shit.” Dirty Man Colada mumbled through the wine-covered fingers.

“You are about to blow everything. The Dick is ours.”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Dirty Man Colada stared out into the fading daylight. “What now?”

They watched as a figure rounded the corner, running at breakneck speeds towards them. As they strained to make out the competitor’s face, two hands clapped down on each of their shoulders.

“Did I make it?” Vagina Dentata grinned at them.

“The winner!” Lost In Foreskin popped off a bottle of champagne. “Hurrah!”

The celebrations exploded, and all gathered into the park to celebrate yet another Tour de Franzia. The competitors shook hands and tried not to fall over as they stuffed orange food into needy mouths.

“Thanks, Man Horchata, I owe you one.” Lost In Foreskin raised a glass.

“But the Franzia jersey? Isn’t it still at risk?”

“You might think so, but all is under control.” He looked over at the winner’s podium. “That’s our Vagina, too.”

The End