Greetings,

I suggest we avoid the harbor area for a period of time until the frightening memories of this past Thursday’s escapade fade. Just as Stephen Spielberg made us afraid of the water with the movie Jaws, dBASED and Occasional Rapist have now renewed our trepidation pertaining to that liquid medium with Trail 1179.

While everyone was happy to heed the call of the trail announcement and convene at Johnny’s Harborside beside the harbor, we obviously did not know what was awaiting us. Had we an inkling, the crew would have arrived in a life raft or, better yet, have Harbor Patrol haul the hares off in leg irons and be tossed in the brig.

The get-together began innocently enough with libations for all and even featured raw oysters for a few of our more adventurous souls. Dicky Wacker sat enjoying the view and consuming an entire plate of fish ‘n chips celebrating the anniversary of the day he was hatched seventy-five years ago. (The man doesn’t look a day over eighty, agreed?) This lulled us into a false sense of security though. Things soon became so disjointed I remember but few hounds attending Instructions of Trail. dBASED had declared this a ‘M’ Word Hash in honor of soon-to-be-wed Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain. dBASED is quite an authority of such events as he has had two himself.

The time between hares-out and Circleup for Introductions was a blur with hounds randomly drifting away from Johnny’s second floor restaurant and calmly and complacently meandering towards the parking lot where we reassembled. Eventually, as many hounds as assumed would actually attempt this trail were present, we were welcomed by co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain. They heard responding barks from the following hounds: TIMMY!!, Wicked Retahted, Pink Cherry Licker, Fap Jack, Just Foot Pussy, Dicky Wacker, Steamy Baanorrhea, My Little Bony, Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Cum You Will Not, Dung-Fu Grip, Ska-Skank Redemption, Hareless, Bacon Queef and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. The actors have assumed their positions, time for the play to begin.

The pack plodded south through the parking lot towards Monterey Bay and hit the beach behind the Crow’s Nest and on-left past the Palomar Cafe, site of a trail start just weeks prior. We continued on and took the same on-left onto Sixth Avenue as a few week prior as well. Unlike the previous trail through here, this lazy hare-pair dispensed with any variety on their trail though and Sixth was shot all the way to it’s termination point at Eaton Street. Here an on-left was indicated which gave us the pleasure of passing right by Johnny’s Harborside again. Thanks for the Circle Jerk, hares.

We crossed over the harbor and were then told to make the on-left on-down to the harbor parking lot. Once there, marker pointed the pod on-right through the entirety of the parking lot, on-up to Atlantic Avenue and on-right to Seabright Avenue. We passed by old favorite Brady’s Yacht Club though Rumor Central contends a Gorilla Beer Check was staged there. We crossed Murray Street and were directed to on-right onto the railroad tracks. While we despise sand for a trail, the railroad tracks in the dark are far more dangerous and present an intoxicated hound with numerous opportunities to twist an ankle or possibly worse. The only saving grace through here was the presence of the street lights on nearby Murray Street. Walking rather than running was a good idea as well.

Once back to the harbor(again) we headed on-down to the harbor walkway and went on-left through the upper harbor. Part way along this path, an arrow turned the troops on-left on-up a darkened staircase.

Nearing the top of the stairs, flour found the flock turning on-right onto a locals-only path precariously perched on the side of the hill overlooking the upper harbor and callously peering into the back yards of homes facing Fredrick Street. This pothole, tree root-lined trail unceremoniously dumped us into a dark, forlorn corner of Fredrick Street Park where further flour forced us to on-down right back to the upper harbor. Another pointless Circle Jerk. The mob made an on-left once back to the harbor and at the top of the harbor, the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. By virtue of the fact the coyote pack residing in Arana Gulch where the Eagles are headed hunt at night, I elected to gobble with the Turkey’s. I would assume the Eagles went all the way to Soquel Avenue and utilized Seventh Avenue to get their tails back to the harbor area. Good luck, Eagles!

As for we Gobblers, we circled around the top of the harbor and took an on-right back down the other side. Part way through the parking lot, an large hare arrow pointed us on-left and on-up a set of stairs the emptied us out onto Mello Lane. (Trivia: Mello Lane is the former abode of Apple Bobber)

The only blessing of Mello Lane is that it’s short! Once to Seventh Avenue, we were turned on-right and were soon rejoined with those traveling Eagles. Just past the railroad tracks, our highly revered BN mark was seen and a few feet farther an arrow led the litter on-left into the small park across from Harbor Cafe. There, at the very back of the park, ensconced within the dark gloom, Beer Check was illegally staged on public property and after the park was officially closed.

After completely desecrating one of Santa Cruz’s beautiful parks, where Occasional Rapist and dBASED were randomly and haphazardly tossing powder on hounds as they arrived, we moved to the backyard of Cumz and Broke Bench’s(current) home via an illegal gate they installed giving themselves access to the park. Once safely ensconced therein, Accuprick assumed the reins and initiated Religion.

Here’s a brief, incomplete listing of down-downs, justified and unjustified, issued this night: Those that ignored the hares’ imploration to don white attire; backsliders were punished; Just Foot Pussy for being a (temporary) FRB with a bum leg; Wicked Retahted for worrying about what the hares would use to stain him with upon entering Beer Check, analversaries were recognized and TIMMY!! for returning to the pack after lounging on the Spanish Riviera for weeks. Oh, yeah, the accursed hare-pair were chastised for terrible trail. This was typical of dBASED/Rapist outings, more of a nuisance event than a Hash.

After dispensing with our horrible hares, RA Accuprick stated, This Hash is over! I hereby do the same for this Trash.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. One should never allow the facts to stand in the way of a good story.

A Scribe’s sole purpose is to provide entertainment to their kennel mates. Whether or not they are successful in this endeavor is still a subject open to debate.

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 sixteenth day of March in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe