We meet at the once quiet Santa Cruz Mountain Brewery located in the Swift Street warehouse complex near Kelly’s Bakery. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this locale, it used to be a nice little spot where we could meet and have dogs and cheap beer. Apparently word has gotten out about the cheap beer here, and the whoe west side thinks it is the place to be. We showed up to a packed house, and proceeded to further overwhelm the poor bartender. Sardines in attendance were Banana Basher, Broke Bench Mountain, Capt Jack Swallows, Choka Cola, Daddy WarBux, dBASED, Dr. Nappy Headed ‘Ho, Finger Nips, Goldie Coxxx, Hairy Potter, Hugh Heifer, Jizzbollah, Last Call Norm, O’ Holy Nuts, Pearl Necklace, PCP, Puff MDQ, Pussy Galore, Rod Lover, Serial Box, snatch.cum, TIMMY!, Tiny Whiney Bitch, visitors Fuck Skin Berry, 3 Dogs Fucking (both from Flagstaff), and Icy Jackoff (maybe not a visitor?), and virgins Titus and Anabel. We were definitely led astray by our hares, Auntie Cummima and her brother Foundling Father.

The first and perhaps funniest crime was that Auntie cluelessly wandered away from her bag of flour. This mistake was quickly observed by the astute Pussy Galore, who ran over to hide the flour. PG, however, must have been laid that morning (but where was Cum Lord?) because she took pity on poor Auntie and only hid the flour around the corner from where it was left.

The hares run off, the pack circles up and leaves, and I stay behind to nurse my beer and my ankle as well as running B-wagon (turns out to be a really good thing…read on). Because I was running B-wagon, I was privy to the locale of beer check and religion prior to the hares leaving. Not wanting to spoil anyone’s fun, I waited what I thought was a fair amount of time before leaving so no one would see me. I headed out toward Antonelli’s Pond where beer was said to be, by turning down Swift and right on Delaware. Who do I pass? Banana Basher, Nips, and Choka Cola. Banana has the most uncanny ability to sniff out trail and short cut that I’ve ever seen. I drove, and they walked straight down Delaware to the pond, where we bagan to see flashlights and hear whistles heading from up toward Hwy 1 / Mission. Apparently they had some time on the tracks.

Beer check turned out to be one of the most creative ones I’m aware of. Located about half-way across the pond, Banana, Nips, and I met up with the pack about the same time they arrived at the bank. There, on the bank of the pond was a surf board with instructions to paddle out to a canoe anchored in the middle of the pond with the beer check cooler in it. Who is insane enough to strip and paddle out to a canoe in a dark pond in January? Well, Broke Bench Mountain, of course!

And not only did BBM save the day for us by retrieving the beer cooler to wet our whistles, but he also recovered a backpack stolen from a local teen. His dog got into something nasty in the bushes (no, not Serial Box even though she purportedly does like dog runs), and while stopping the dogs from eating poison he stumbled onto this backpack clearly stolen and ditched, full of some poor kid’s notes. BBM, being the technophile that he is, quickly noted the exact location with his iPhone to follow up on the next day. In the end, after some scary, pedophilic phone calls, the teen was notified and presumably was reunited with his homework.

Religion was at the end of the earth, literally. A beautiful spot located on the cliffs over the ocean, between the nicest trailer park on the planet and Long Marine Lab. A lovely spot, but damn chilly and a little hard to get the trough out to. Not to mention it was pitch black, my flashlight is weak and my pen quit working. All that means, notes from religion are scant. As I pulled up with B-wagon to the closest place to the religion site that we could legally park, I am met by a nearly panicked hare. It seems that the keys to BBM’s truck where the beer trough is were left in Auntie’s car back at the brewery. I kindly gave Foundling Father a ride back to A so that the pack would not die from thirst. See, good thing I’m a gimp, chose to nurse my ankle, and drove B-wagon!

Tiny Whiney Bitch is crowned Beer Fairy, and a new rule is announced: any beer still left in the cup during a down-down must be poured over your head. First up to the altar are our virgins, Titus and Anabel. Titus, brought by Goldie Coxxx, showed up a very intimate body part: a birth mark on his ass. Nice. Anabel told us a joke (I can’t blame her, it was cold!). Here’s the joke: a man comes home to find his wife in bed with another man. He cries out “what the hell is going on?” His wife turns to her lover and says “see, I told you he was stupid!” Good one Anabel! Now you just have to tell us which hasher you overheard recounting this sad tale.

Next up were the visitors from Flagstaff, Fuck Skin Berry, 3 Dogs Fucking, and co-hare  Foundling Father. They were goofy, funny, and cute…I’m sure someone took them home and kept them warm that night. If not, BAD Harriettes!!!

Next, I was given Big Daddy nearly full for my 69^th r*n with SCH3. I was the first to break our new rule. Cool, it lasted, what, three down-downs? Tiny Whiney, true to his name, points out my transgression like a school-ground tattle tale, and thus gets the next down-down. Way to go, TWB!

BBM gets called up next. Why? Naturally, just because he is BBM. Also because he swam out to get the beer and used technology on trail to pinpoint the location of the found backpack.

Serial Box and LC Norm visited the altar for using mortal names on trail.

Because this trail had some strange, military theme that I never did figure out, the next folks called up were those who wore some camo. Virgin Titus returned with Serial Box, Puff MDQ, and Captain Jack. Captain Jack whined about his down-down cup not being full, so he got to drink again. What’s that saying about the squeaky wheel?

Finally the hares were called up, my pen died once and for all, and the hash dispersed. On on on was at the Parish Lounge, a truly wonderful establishment on the west side next to Safeway. I must say that they had many outstanding beers on tap and the food was great. I challenge anyone to eat their wings! So ended hash #447. May the hash get a piece!