“I think they might be onto us,” Pepe Le Poop whispered to Tuna on Top at the drink check. Yessiryesshesfat was sipping a second delicious concoction, while Dual Tools was flexing gently in the breeze. Weekend at Abba’s fainted at the sight. The only sound that broke the peace was that of Eat My Pussy sniffing around for the next mark—the rest of the group was content to enjoy the last light of the evening.

 

 

 

“Onto trail? Well no, I’m pretty sure we already lost Tricrapylete’s secondhand virgin, but at least the pack will get to enjoy a weird domestic quasi-argument between two people they don’t know. Most trails don’t have that!” Tuna on Top pointed out.

 

 

 

“No, no…” he lowered his voice so that Weekend At Abba’s could not overhear.  “Tuna on Top… I’m not really a schoolgirl.”

 

 

 

Tuna on Top stared at him. “You’re … not.” She thought quickly. “This is bad, Pepe. This is real bad.”

 

 

 

“It is?” he asked hesitantly. Just Doesn’t Get It took off spontaneously, and the rest of the pack followed, leaving them alone.

 

 

 

“Yeah, not really a schoolgirl?” She whistled. “That’s big, man. This could get you banned for haring… like for life.”

 

 

 

Dick Ass Mother Fucker popped up behind them. “What?! Banned from haring?”

 

 

 

The two hares jumped. “Nothing, nothing.” Tuna on Top waved him off. “I said banned from… snaring. Like playing snare drums. It’s a metaphor.”

 

 

 

“No,” DAMF shook his head. “You said banned from haring. What is it? Tell me. I’ll pay you. What can get you banned from haring?”

 

 

 

“Banned from haring?” Circle Jerk popped up clutching DAMF’s arm and nodding frantically,  “How?”

 

 

 

The two hares shrunk away from them, unsure of what to say. Suddenly, a roar filled the air. Cheese Turd and his masked friend skidded to a stop in front of them, bicycles gleaming in the falling light. Cheese Turd adjusted the cuffs on his new leather jacket.  “These goons bothering you, little girls?”

 

 

 

“What’s with your friend?” Tuna on Top jutted her chin towards the man.

 

 

 

“Him?” Cheese Turd spat out a bit of tobacco. “Name’s Jim. He’s like Rumplestiltskin. You guess his hash name? You win a prize.”

 

 

 

“Wash This Asshole,” Do Her Well appeared, holding a tome. “In the Trash of our Lord of May 25th, 2015, I quote fifth chapter, sixth verse: ‘Unfortunately we have a strict policy on unattended children—if you leave them alone, they will be given a hash name. We discovered Just Jim playing all by himself, and left him where we found him as Wash This Asshole.’”

 

 

 

“Okay then, that was faster than I thought.” Cheese Turd frowned. “The prize is that we won’t steal your firstborn,” he announced magnanimously.

 

 

 

“Gee, thanks,” Do Her Well snorted.

 

 

 

“Anyway, you chicks want to get out of here and into someplace more comfortable?” Cheese Turd grinned at the hares again.

 

 

 

“I’m not a schoolgirl!” Pepe admitted tearfully. “I’m not even a girl at all!”

 

 

 

Silence filled the clearing. Suddenly most of the pack was surrounding them, Roman Showers tutting scornfully while Backside Banger munched on some popcorn. I’m Slurry grinned hazily, already having been to the keg several times.

 

 

 

“Not a schoolgirl!” Cockagami leapt forward. “Um. You two, get those bikes out of here. You’re blocking my view.”

 


“Of what?” challenged Cheese Turd.

 

 

 

“Of myself!” declared Cockagami.

 

 

 

“That makes no sense.” Fucker argued.

 

 

 

“It doesn’t have to make sense, it’s Cockagami.” Cockamole explained.

 

 

 

“Not a schoolgirl!” Cockagami declared. “Next you’re going to tell me that Dick Simmons isn’t going to get me into Playgirl with those pictures he took.”

 


Gingervitis held back a laugh. The rest of the pack was silent.

 

 

 

“Okay. We’re learning a lot tonight. So what do our real schoolgirls think?”

 

 

 

“It takes a lot to be a schoolgirl,” MUG started out.

 

 

 

“A skirt, a fancy looking top…” continued Mary Tyler Whore.

 

 

 

“A sense of naivety…” added The Perfect Woman.

 

 

 

“Still being in an institutional educational system,” Circle Jerk finished for them.

 

 

 

“When do they get to the part about vaginas?” whispered Just Renata to Stinky Floss.

 

 

 

“They never stop on that,” Stinky Floss answered.

 

 

 

“So how do you hold yourself as a schoolgirl, knowing all of that!” Miss Delivery said accusingly.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry!” Pepe got down on his knees. “Forgive me!”

 

 

 

“Wait just a second.” The seas parted and Hand Pump emerged, followed closely by Hoseblower.

 

 

 

“Now, both of us have quite a few years between us, and we have just added one more apiece.”

 

 

 

“And if we know anything,” Hoseblower chimed in, “It’s that appearances can be deceiving. I’ll have to tell you about that one trip to Florida sometime.”

 

 

 

“If you work hard enough, and believe strongly enough,” Hand Pump announced. “You won’t believe what you can achieve. You can even be beermeister to a bunch of racists half-minds!”

 

 

 

“That’s beautiful, man,” Fuck Norris whispered to Dim Suck. Sir Spongebob SploogePants wiped away a tear.

 

 

 

“So I can be a schoolgirl?” Pepe asked hesitantly.

 

 

 

Hand Pump patted him on the back. “You can be anything you want.”

 

 

 

“For a price,” Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring added.

 

 

 

“Here’s to our schoolgirl hares!” Dickweed cheered. The pack answered back with a roar.

 

 

“Huh,” Muff Daddy remarked as they drifted off into the night. “I guess the little schoolgirl was inside him all along.”