“Unbelievable,” said Masterbaster.
“What do we do now?” asked Mouth Down South in shock. “I mean, where can we go from here?” Ru Ru Rimmin patted him on the back.
“Come on guys, buck up,” Cunty Butler said. “We’re all still here. We’re still moving.”
“I mean, I did not see this one coming,” Primal Vagina said in shock. “I just thought we were better than this.”
“I did,” Miss Delivery said. “Saw it coming a mile away. Pretty obvious, in retrospect.”
“Maybe it’ll all turn out okay,” reasoned Douchicorn. Fuck Buddy’s laughter echoed through the streets.
“No, really,” Dick Simmons chimed in. “I mean what’s the point in whining about what happened? Maybe we need to look for solutions.”
I Cunt Hear You pulled out a special pair of noise-cancelling headphones.
“I’m going to go look at puppies on Facebook instead,” Buck Fucka decided.
“There’s a good one where a really old dog takes his last walk before he dies,” Pole Her Bare told him.
“That sounds really depressing,” Circle Jerk said. “Fantastic.”
“I’ve already started tweeting about this.” Ska Skank’s phone’s was capitalizing everything automatically.
“I’m going to go fight someone,” Rent Whore held her fists up. “Wanna wrestle?” Zippercised quickly took her up on the offer.
“This sort of thing would never happen in Sweden,” Blowqueen said with chagrin.
“Maybe you should go home then,” Me No Engrish retorted.
“No Muff Daddy in Sweden,” Blowqueen sighed. Herassic Park nodded in sympathy.
“This sort of thing wouldn’t have happened four years ago,” replied Bitch’s Bitch. “Maybe we were just better then.”
“I think we’re pretty much the same everywhere throughout time,” Yes Sir, Yes She’s Fat answered. “It’s only when you step out of your zone that you see that all the differences between us are masking the same basic human faults… and goodness.”
“That was oddly profound for someone talking about a remarkably shitty trail,” Cockagami pointed out.
“We can’t just keep obsessing about how terribly lost we all feel.” Cirque du So Lame declared finally. “Looking at three chalk lines on the ground and bitching about it does nothing for anyone. Someone needs to take action and call Hand Pump. It’s time for us to get to the beer. Not me, though, I don’t have my phone.” Dickgiorno whipped out his instead.
“And if you guys want a better trail, then you should take action and set one yourselves,” Perfect Woman declared.
“But don’t spend all your orange food money on government pork rinds please,” My Little Porno added hurriedly.
“There’s some good here,” Deadbeat pointed out. “I haven’t been this close to running with the pack in decades.”
“I think we can all come together,” Just Jesse said optimistically, linking hands with Just Fiid and Just Brandon. “Sometime within the next four years to give us assholes names.”
“And maybe we’ll find that we can work together to make the hash better,” Stinky Floss speculated.
Whorifist nodded. “Maybe this will show people what not to do from now on.”
“And maybe being cold and sweaty will make you all buy more hash sweatshirts,” Sleazy suggested.
“Maybe you’ll take all the crap out of my van,” Hand Pump prodded.
“Maybe I’ll find more ways of making you guys make me get drunk,” Haelowood declared.
“Maybe you guys can come to my hash in Dubai,” said Fellatio. “And by guys I actually do mean only the ones with the penises.”
“Maybe we’d rather go to a lesbian bar,” Chicken Bone Her replied. The pack headed off into the night.
“Where do you think Titty Boo Boo and One Night only went?” Just Doesn’t Get It asked Do Her Well.
“Thinking things over.” She pondered for a moment. “Probably just taking a long walk in the woods somewhere.”