Salutations,

Gather round, young pups. It’s time for a throwback Trash. That’s one where hares are harried for hideous happenings on trail and hounds are taken to task for their abundant incompetence.

I will not complicate this Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desire. It is with this motive in mind that I will now recount the events that comprise Trail 936. What follows is a true accounting even if it is not the events that actually occurred.

Teste Coil was being shepherded by Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp on his Virgin Haring. This is a real world example that supports the old adage, ‘The blind leading the blind’.  Admittedly, it would have been worse had dBASED been Teste Coil’s teacher as then not only would trail have been of poor quality but it would also have been too damn long as well. Thank the gods of the Hash for THAT small favor at least.

The start was pleasant enough. A beginning at Beer Thirty is always a wise choice though I have now been forced to the unpleasant conclusion that a good START does not necessarily guarantee a good TRAIL.  Allow me to expand upon that premise.

After being assaulted by another slow-acting poison concoction from the half-mind of Cum You Will Not, the merry members of madness circled-up for introductions and we heard from: Accuprick, Rat Pussy, Deadliest Snatch, Baker’s Dozen’t, Wicked Retahted, Pink Cherry Licker, Stub rub, Summer’s Yeast, Twisted Fister, TIMMY!!!, dBASED, Occasional Rapist, Cuntjungle, Shallow Hole, Twat Did You Say?, Little Anal Annie, Butt Balls, Jizziki, Cum You Will Not, Urine Cider, Dog Breath, Real boring Bitch, Virgin Jesse, Virgin Susanne and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. None of the aforementioned would be happy hounds upon conclusion of the trail of terror.

There was initial confusion at the check just outside Beer Thirty. Not only was this a less-than-auspicious start, but it set the tone for the entirety of trail to follow as well. After feeling our way though this one, the gang galloped up Main Street and discovered a check at the very next intersection, that being the one with East Walnut. The clan coagulated around the check at Lions Park and spread out sniffing for trail. After a false start across Soquel Creek and onto the playground at Soquel Elementary School,(who started us on THAT false trail?), true trail was located on-right and on-up East Walnut Street. (Wasn’t that previously scouted?) Mark turned the troops on-right onto Soquel Drive but a back check mark was discovered 2 blocks later at Capitola Avenue. The gang turned back, well, except for Urine Cider and Virgin Susanne who staggered along a little further before deciding to rejoin us. There was a lot of sniffing that transpired here until some flour was stumbled across blocks back on Center Street. Back checks of this distance are considered rude or, to utilize some rather coarse vernacular, they are known as Prick’s Tricks.

After this conundrum was dispensed with, the pack plodded across busy Soquel Drive continuing on Center Street(which, incidentally, is NOT the center of town) and past the Congregational Church. Hashers move very quickly past a church I’ve noticed and do not look at it either. A block later, the geography of the road dictates a ninety degree on-left onto Bridge Street. The clan crossed Main Street and traipsed onto the bridge over Soquel Creek leading to Paper Mill Road. The BN mark was observed but no one could find it. As it turns out, only ONE hound was to find the goody left for us and that would be dBASED. A bag containing the liquid gold had been suspended over the side of the bridge. However, dBASED slung the bag back over the side of the bridge with such force that the carabiner holding the bag broke and sent the precious liquid plummeting into Soquel Creek. A newspaper article the next morning detailed the California Department of Fish and Wildlife’s discovery of hundreds of intoxicated fish in Soquel, California; cause under investigation. Rumor Central contends dBASED was seen slithering back to the scene of the crime after the hash in hopes of retrieving the bag and it’s contents.

An on-right onto Paper Mill Road yielded an on-left onto Oneil Lane one block later which brought the bevy to Soquel-San Jose Road which all we locals call Old San Jose Road. The gang headed on-right and soon on-left into Anna Jean Cummings Park which is locally called Blue Balls Park due to the huge blue balls that adorn it. (what were they thinkin’?!) It was through here local law enforcement was encountered. Here’s the difference between the County Sheriff’s Department and Capitola cops. It’s after sundown so the park is officially closed. What did the deputy say to us? ‘Ah, there’s run tonight, huh? Have a nice night.’ Off he went. Capitola cop would have at the LEAST run us out if not issued us citations for trespassing.

After struggling with the copious collection of stairs leading on-up to the soccer field, we were greeted by a Liquor Check that has not been destroyed by dBASED and the promised Turkey/Eagle split. We’ll squander some of our evening on the Eagle trail. It went, and I’m certain you can see this one coming, clambering the huge hills behind Soquel High School. After cresting the largest(but of course) of them, we simply fell down the other side and through a small patch of woods, across Soquel Drive, onto Robertson Road, transitioned onto Wharf Road and under Highway 1.

Not far past the Highway 1 undercrossing, the back check mark sent us reeling. After minimal sniffing, flour was discovered along a narrow path beside a private residence and a fence designed to keep people away from Soquel Creek. That fence would probably work for mortals but not hashers. Worse than trespassing, it was now drizzling. The rocks along Soquel Creek were now extremely slick. Almost no one got through here and across the creek without taking on some water. After completing the creek crossing, we invaded a small homeless encampment and emerged into a parking lot a block from the start.

Most of us began to smell an imminent end to this disaster once an on-left was made onto Porter Street. A brief, uncalled for circle jerk onto West Walnut, then Daubenbiss and back onto Porter Street was a fitting culmination to an already pointless outing. Directly across Porter the flock found Beer Check. This was rapidly dispensed with as the area is frequented by local law enforcement.

A short jaunt away is the Heart of Soquel Park and at the very back is a small cul-de-sac walkway perfect for hiding and conducting Religion. Accuprick seized the reins of control as Religious Adviser. Let’s see now. Little Anal Annie was awarded a down-down for yelling at a driver who almost ran her over as she illegally crossed busy Soquel Drive…in the dark. Puff was busted for trying to bribe the Sheriff’s Deputy to give him a lift to the top of the hill in Blue Balls Park. The two Virgins were terrified with Joke, Song or Body Part. dBASED was awarded a punitive down-down for destroying first Liquor Check after he had his fill. Other people were punished too but they did not contribute anything to the overall success of Religion so I’ve forgotten them. The hares were skewered over their trail. I truly believe Trail 936 may garner a nomination as Worst Trail of the Year for AGM next month. It’s a good thing Princess Di(arrhea) is non-compos-mentis because being sane would remove any desire she may harbor to ever hare for Surf City again. As for Thmp-Thmp, I bear him no ill will for his criminal past. I am, however, very concerned with his criminal FUTURE. And as for Teste Coil, I now fear this man may be the missing link between the pirate and the pig. That pretty much does it for Trail 936 and put it exactly where I want it to be: In my rear view mirror.

On-on-on was successfully staged at nearby Village Host Pizza. The crew appreciated the tips but probably did not enjoy cleaning up after we pigs vacated the premises. They were neutral on being serenaded with a hash song.

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty “G”, this  Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the twenty-second day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand seventeen.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff the Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

(briefly out of retirement)