A plague has swept the hash, leaving the pack hareless except for Banana, who has risen, zombie-like from his own deathbed to limp along the levees and darkest places of the Beach Flats and lower Ocean in an attempt to lure the pack to an early grave.

Reduced from half-minds to yet weaker quarter-minds, the skeletal pack assembles at what was once a 50’s diner, then some trendy vegetarian restaurant and is currently the Surfrider Café next to what used to be Cymbaline Records and that Chinese Buffet this scribe wants so dearly to experience and is unable to convince anyone else that this is a good idea.  Not that the scribe is well known for her superior judgment (after all, she did volunteer to scribe) but hey, why not take a chance on a Chinese Buffet with a number stuck in the middle of it’s name? The kind bartenders at the Surfrider fed those hounds who were well enough to eat delicious little sausage bits and beer and also had the good taste to serve up some Beach Boy’s very appropriate Sloop John B.

Those who partook: Banana, Puff, Norm, Pearl, Rod Lover, the mighty Cum Lord, Pussy Galore, Just Derrick, Just Alana,Vince Lamblowme, Ralph-U-Crammed-in, Tiny Whiney, Mass Storage Device, Hugh Heifer, Fingernips, dBased & Just Annabel, Suck Cockran, Goat Blower, Serial Box, Sheeprocker, and me, Snatchy-scribe.

Bravely into the night, up to the levee we went in every direction (north & south). At the Laurel Street Bridge only Tiny Whiney and Rod Lover were brave enough to go under (they’ve been waiting for this moment together in the dark night), Mass Storage Device chose to cross over and come nearly face to face with the hare! Rightly frightened by Banana’s impressive silhouette in a neighborhood not know for friendliness, she wisely hurried back with tail between her legs to rejoin the pack. Yes, the misery and terror could have ended right here, friends, but for the cowardice and likely good judgment of a single harriette.

The general tone of confusion and lack of flashlights made it tough to find what little flour there was but Vince has a keen sniffer for hare and led us to ascend a staircase to Beach Hill where Serial and Hugh were left chasing their tails as the path, with flour on both sides, briefly split in two.

Up over the dark avenues of Beach Hill we wandered, cheered on and mislead by spectators and eventually into the bowels of the Flats. This scribe was the subject of more than a few sideways glances as she took notes, looking more like a hooker keeping her books than anything else, and trying to catch up with her johns as they ran from her.

While Puff fended off teens looking for a psychedelic rush, Cum Lord stumbled over that other bridge and down into lower Ocean. At least the hare had the decency to lead us onto the nicest of all possible streets in the area, past the lovely smells of the Royal Taj and Hindquarter eateries. Because the Hindquarter has a strict no dogs allowed policy, we went around the corner into the back parking lot and demanded beer. We don’t need no steaks and vino; just Natural Lite and cheetos.

We soon learned that on his first flour drop, Banana was stopped by the cops

Through the hazards of San Lorenzo Park we journeyed, looking much like the other locals stumbling around, though sans paper bags. Up to the favorite downtown perch of the hash, the four story garage, we went in search of yet more beer. Our faith in booze was rewarded, as the substitute RA, Pearl Necklace, presided over “lab samples” from the kitchen of Pussy Galore, aka jello shots! I recommend the peach. And black cherry. And the peach some more. But wait, that black cherry…

Called up:

Rod Lover, for barking, yes, barking at the scribe. Some dogs bark just to hear their own voices.

Sheeprocker and Cheerio’s human (Just Derrick) were the next victims as Pussy claimed seeing Sheeprocker fucking a sheep in the bushes…which may have turned out to be a horny goat. Or perhaps a barking dog.

Pussy’s down down was the result of bringing jello shots instead of a spare liver in her lab samples cooler.

Rod visited the RA once again, this time for having the biggest flashlight on trail. Then again, some dogs bark just to draw more attention to themselves.

Mass Storage Device and Fingernips took their turns for twittering all trail long about cute boys. Indeed, perhaps barking pays off!

MSD returned to the alter for standing blindly in front of the hare and running the other way, an action she continued to defend. She probably could have used a barking dog by her side. That big flashlight may have come in handy too.

Goatie then entertained the pack by rimming a jello shot in a most lavacious manner…and taking it all in one gulp.

As the temperature continued to drop and the pack began swaying from the effects of Goatie’s display and the powerful shots, the RA declared in a Barry White voice honed from weeks of illness…May the Hash go in peace.

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