The Tale of Brown Eye and the Virgin Hares

 

Once upon a time, on a small peninsula, there was a village with an overpriced rent-controlled cottage. And in that cottage lived a man named Brown Eye with two Bears.

 

"For the last time, Brown Eye, can you stop complaining about your roommates?" Just Ben cried, pulling his hair. "This is distracting me from booking my next colonoscopy."

 

"I haven't said anything... yet." Brown Eye frowned. "But now that you mention it, I think one of them shaved a small pony in the shower this morning..."

 

"Gross," said Just Ben absentmindedly. "Hey, why's this chap Cuming Mutha booked all the slots on Thursdays for knee surgery?"

 

"Must be one kinky gastroenterologist," remarked Just Justin. "Brown Eye, have you decided where we are setting trail?"

 

"As a matter of fact, Justin, I have." Brown Eye rolled out a map of San Francisco that nearly covered his entire room. Justin scrambled to unearth the life-size cardboard cutout of Britney Spears that he always kept handy. He leaned over with Britney to look at the meticulous notes, which covered the city. Each park was highlighted in yellow, while stairways were denoted in blue. Bending closer, Justin noticed several spots marked in red--

 

"For my eyes, only," Brown Eye huffed, gathering the map towards him. Somewhere underneath, Just Ben had begun to snore.

 

"We must be heading to the Castro," Just Justin assumed.

 

"Too gay," Brown Eye frowned.

 

"Dolores Park?" asked Just Justin.

 

"Too straight," Brown Eye decried.

 

"What about Twin Peaks?" Just Ben had awoken from his nap. "I loved that show."

 

"Just Right!" declared Brown Eye.

 

 And so the pack gathered round at Ruth Asawa School of the Arts. Muff Daddy rubbed his belly, for some reason craving freshly baked potatoes. He pulled back as Public Enema Number Two dragged on the leash he held. 

 

"I still don't understand why he needs a service dog vest," he complained to Stinky Floss.

 

"I told you, he's in a very delicate state right now. Ever since they prescribed him opiates after his back injury, he's been chasing the dragon. "

 

"I thought dogs were supposed to chase things," complained Muff Daddy.

 

"My god, it's freezing up here," groused Eat My Pussy.

 

"It's too hot," Do Her Well disagreed, taking off her shirt.

 

"Well in my book, it's just right," barked Allahu Aqbark, but no one around him understood Arabic. Resting Slut Face helpfully poured water over him, and Allahu Aqbark took off, dragging the poor hasher in his wake.

 

Hand Pump harrumphed. "Seems like we are starting a bit too late."

 

"Oh yeah, well I think we're too early!" I Cunt Hear You shrank under the responding glare. "I'm just fitting the theme!"

 

And so they were off, Just Chris and Bitch's Bitch exploding off into the distance while the rest of the pack averted their gaze. Udder Moron and Shaft were hot on their tails, until they got to Laguna Honda and Slug's psychadelic pants made them think they were on an acid trip. After a little ECT from Dick Simmons' vest, they were put to rights and soon joined the rest of the pack at the shot check in the parking lot.

 

"This shot is too creamy," complained Tears of Semen, slurping down the cookies and cream number.

 

"This shot is too vegan," opined Reese's Penis Butter Cock, aiming for the chocolate.

 

"Never. Say. That," Cockamole stood threatening against the sky.

 

"On on!" yelled Fucker just in time, and they cascaded down the hillside, Slap A Bag of Dickz aiming Hepatitis Seeing Eye Dog at every spare patch of PO he could find.

 

They ran onwards and upwards until they reached the reservoir.

 

"This false was too short," groaned No Shit, hoping for a marathon backcheck at some point.

 

"I thought we went a bit too long," Rhythm Method said aloud. "Oh, were we talking about trail?"

 

"Aha!" declared Fuck Buddy. "This false was just right for me to find true trail!" and she ran upwards towards Twin Peaks.

 

Abbah stood proudly by the roadside, gazing at the view of the village into the distance.

 

"First, you must answer a riddle. I go in dry and hard, and come out soft and wet. Who am I?"

 

Miss Delivery flashed him eagerly, reaching for the shots.

 

Abbah harrumphed. "Wrong. And I think I'm a bit bigger than that."

 

"Chewing gum!" Three Fingers gasped. "You're chewing gum." He sucked down two of the shots and took off, the rest of the pack close behind for the descent off of Twin Peaks.

 

"Too much PO!" grimaced I'm Drunk, stepping gingerly.

 

"Am I supposed to say not enough PO?" wondered Perfect Woman. "Because I'm a good sport, but I'm not that good."

 

"Just Right!" barked Scat Master, dragging Wrinklepecker along behind.

 

Thankfully, they were soon after at the beer check, where wiser parties were able to campaign for Technu to ward off later itchiness.

 

"Piss works just as well," Brown Eye advised, leading several hashers to wander into the bushes. Snot Rag yelped, and hurried back out again. "I thought they were on!"

 

"In a sense, they were," Zippercised advised. Circle quickly convened, and everything was made up and the points didn't matter.

 

Meanwhile, while they were harassing each other and drinking even more beer, Just Cassie was eyeing the houses nearby.

 

"That looks like it's too small for a hash to be at," she muttered to herself. "And that one looks far too nice and homey."  She wandered to the most derelict candidate possible, rang the bell, and hoped.  Fortunately for her, the chorus of "Take it in your hand Mrs. Murphy," resounded in the distance, and she was able to hide herself from the oppressive view of the neighbors just in time.

 

"DFL!" the pack cried happily, and when they heard her tale they cried "Ding Dong Bitch," and gave her the hashshit (delivery cum Wrinklepecker next week) and made her drink several beers.

 

Even more eagerly they interrogated the hares, learning much about Just Ben and even more about Just Justin, from his C-section birth to what he ate for breakfast yesterday. But nothing was more interesting to the group than, as always, his sexual preferences.

 

"Too small!" he declared half of the pack, who had shown him their penises.

 

"Too big!" he remarked regarding the other half that had shown him their boobies.

 

"Too tame!" he said, when someone brought out a whip.

 

"Cucumber!" he said, when Public Enema brought out his doggy vest.

 

"He doesn't understand safe words," Stinky Floss whispered worriedly, but luckily Muff Daddy had a firm grip on the leash.

 

Finally, Brown Eye tapped him lightly on the nose, and blood streamed forth. "Just Right!" Justin said at last. "Wanna 69?"

 

And with that, Just Justin was deemed Red Heading, and having gotten the hares thoroughly drunk, circle was adjourned so all could stumble to the on after, where they drank happily ever after.

 

The End.