SFH3 Run #1751
|:||Glen Park, Kern at Brompton|
|:||Do Her Well|
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen a field of competitors as dedicated as this year’s crop. What do you think, Mr. Cockagami?”
“Well, Millimeter, they’re thirsty for something all right. It may just be the alcohol talking, but I think we’re in for a treat tonight. The Hash House Harriers have long been known for grace under pressure—you okay, Peter? Anyway, ever since President Trump was fortunate enough to pick up the San Francisco chapter following some monetary woes, the Miss America pageant has been filled with top contenders. How opportune-- here’s last year’s winner, Miss Delivery!”
“I was just… look guys, you’re in the way of the keg.”
“Of course we are! Millimeter, can you tell us some more about our first portion of the program?
“Certainly, Mr. Cockagami. You’ll see our competitors coming in from their runway walk right now. This year’s runway, brought to you by Masterbaster™, features a unique opportunity for our contestants to navigate through a mud wall. If they’ve learned anything from talent coach Cockamole they’ll know how to climb out with a smile on their faces. Even our pageant virgins are getting in on the action.”
“Right they are. You can see that Just Shea is all over the hash marks like a hooker on crack. I hear she’s a little uncoached in other departments though, as Bum Sucking Electric Fag likes them inexperienced, so don’t place all your money on her just yet.”
“The runway was certainly rough on some of the ladies—choreographer Just Michael’s instructions left Muff Daddy, Just Get It Over With, and Sir Sponge Bob Splooge Pants in disarray. He may find it a bit hard to get work after this snafu.”
“Don’t you worry, Millimeter, a man like Just Michael always knows where to find some sort of a job. Next we’ll be moving on to our talent part of the evening. Unfortunately we’ve just got word that DJ Just Aaron was disqualified early for not listening to the judges instructions, better luck next year Aaron. Now I Know My STDs and Backside Banger also received some low scores from their description of pump repair, as Judge Dickweed demanded and did not receive a demonstration.”
“That’s right, contestants, remember the emphasis is on the “show” in this pageant. Now I Know My STDs may be able to make points up later on, though—not only does she have a virgin with her, she has some Fireball for the crowd as well. We’ll have to see how she incorporates it into the evening gown segment.”
“We’ll get there in just a moment, fans, but first we have a final few contestants to demonstrate their talents. Blowqueen seems to be engaging in a dance from his native land—oof. When he said breakdancing, I didn’t think it would involve his ribs. Judges Deadbeat and Shaft seem very excited by the display, so perhaps it was worth the sacrifice. I’m not sure how Cum Guzzling Cockaholic will be able to follow that.”
“Well he won’t, because he’s gone home to his wife. That means that Do Her Well will be up next, and she appears to be holding… a Zombie Killer!”
“I think some of this crew weren’t even born the last time the Zombie Killer was used. While it’s a crowd pleaser, I’m not sure she’ll be making any points on originality.”
“Just wait one minute Mr. Cockagami. Her left shoe is off. I repeat, her left shoe is off.”
“A combined Zombie Killer Tennis Shoe down down—what a show! The crowd is going absolutely crazy, but with Fucker as the judge… I don’t know. It takes a lot to impress that fucker.”
“Last up on the schedule is the evening gown portion of the program. The contestants are all lined up—Rhythm Method has a beautiful mismatched shoe component to her outfit, while Buck Fucka is solely relying on expert use of conditioner. Gobble My Ass is holding a virgin in front of her, very creative use of the scenery. I see Skid Mark over there holding true to his name.”
“As is Primal Vagina! And everyone with a smile on their face. What an evening! I have to say that this has been the stiffest competition we’ve had in a while. And for the folks at home, you really should have been here to see some of the action we haven’t had time to show you. From Fuck Norris and Brave Fart’s family duel, to the serenade of aptly named Tears of Semen, we have had jam packed nonstop entertainment all day long. And now, with the competition this tight between our top rivals, we’ll await word from head judges Wee Wee Wee All The Way Home and Sir Menage A Lot.
“Thanks, Wee Wee! Folks, I have the card right here, and I am so excited to tell you, that it’s Sleazy Like Sunday Brunch!”
“Millimeter, is that right?”
“My name’s Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring, you fucktards!”
“Sorry folks, it’s Sleazy Like Sunday… what Wee Wee? Can’t you see I’m… Oh.”
“Peter, is everything ok?”
“Folks, folks. Calm down. Now I know you are all very excited, but please don’t be mad at Sleazy Like Saturday Night Fever here. She’s… folks. Calm down. Calm down. This is my mistake. I’m taking responsibility here, except Wee Wee… nevermind. The winner of the Miss America Pageant is… Hand Pump! Shit!”
“Fuck you, and you, and especially you,” Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring cried out, holding the tiara high above her. “I’m taking my tiara, and I’m going home!”
“Don’t worry,” shouted Just Get It Over With. “In two weeks, everyone can have a tiara!”
“What kind of communist bullshit is that?” Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring shouted. “I’m the fucking winner here.”
“It’s not communist if we sell them the tiaras,” argued Just Get It Over With.
Sleazy paused, thought for a moment, and linked arms with Just Get It Over With. “I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship.”
“Well there you have it, folks. From Glen Park BART, on behalf of Albert S “G” Gispert, Millimeter Peter and I wish you a wonderful evening. Cockagami out!