It was a dark and stormy night…

Banal cliche? Damn right. However, it is sadly applicable to the events that comprised Trail Twelve-33. Explanation to follow.

Let’s begin with one of the hares became so ill(reputedly) she was unable to fulfill her obligation. This, of course, refers to Flours For Anal Bum. Emphasis on the ‘Bum’ portion of her moniker. She did not text anyone during trail to ask how it was going. Maybe she had more important business elsewhere? Her proxy, Circle Gherkin’, stepped up to take her place. However, this was but Gherkin’s second haring and lead hare, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, refused to divulge trail details to him. In theory, this will make it extremely, if not downright impossible, for Gherkin’ to assist with the laying of trail. Thinking back to his first haring with Jersey Lunchbox, you may remember what a tragic event it was so even if he WAS made aware of the planned trail, it would still probably not go well for the pack.

To further dishearten the pack, it is now well past that 6:33 mark and Cold Smegma has yet to show snout. The pack, all seven(!) of us, are becoming increasingly inclined to have Circle Gherkin’ drag us around the block and call it a Hash! With just minutes to spare before our self-imposed deadline, Gherkin’ received a text from Cold Smegma claiming he was almost there. As it was now raining and the temperature having dropped to the upper-forties, we were almost hoping Cold Smegma did NOT make the cutoff time. He soon pushed his burgeoning belly through the swinging doors here at the Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon to the dismay of many of us in attendance. After a little coaxing, like hurry-the-hell-up, Instructions of Trail were issued.

After informing us about a Turkey/Eagle split and a Beer Check quite close, the hare-pair slithered on-out. Hares away.

The hares said they would not require even a fifteen minute lead time as Beer Check was so close. Consequently, soon co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain, from the comfort of the interior of the bar, called for Circleup for Introductions and heard whimpers from the following hounds: Cum You Will Not, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Canine wise we had Spot’d Dick and Scratch and Sniff. Yes, that was it for this week’s festivities. Pack out.

A hare arrow immediately outside the front door led the litter on-left all the way to 30th Avenue to make an on-left there. We went down 30th and made an on-right onto the Moran Lake Trail. That’s Moron Lake in Hash parlance. Just prior to the on-right, the BN mark was viewed. However, once into the darkened depths of the Eucalyptus forest, further marks eluded us. Eventually, the light-reflective jacket of Circle Gherkin’ revealed the location of the hare-pair and Beer Check was engaged. As we stood there, shivering and injecting ourselves with cold liquid, what could be interpreted as snowflakes swirled around our little half-minds. It was certainly cold enough. Hares requested a seven minute lead time and left. About five minutes later the pack, now down to five, decided to leave. Let’s get outta here. Pack out.

It was a rather unpleasant traipse along side Moron Lake. Ask TIMMY!! who took a terrible spill and not only injured himself but came away wet and muddy as well. Eventually we got to East Cliff Drive where an arrow pointed the pod on-left. This began a rather dangerous section of trail as there is no place to go should a vehicle approach. And it did. And there was no rejoicing. Mercifully, the driver spied us and gave us a wide berth. We were able to make it to Chesterfield Drive where a hare arrow pointed us on-right and allowed us a brief shortcut back to East Cliff Drive and on-right there. We now undertook a long and very windy jaunt along East Cliff until just past the bathrooms where we were directed on-right and on-down to the sand where Liquor Check was staged. It was quite windy here so our business was concluded quickly and back on-up to East Cliff.

The Turkey/Eagle split was encountered not far along East Cliff. The Eagles are disappearing into the darkness, that does not appear to appetizing, Scribe will fly with the Turkeys tonight. Turkeys went on-left onto 34th Avenue. Somewhere around Floral Drive we went on-right to 36th Avenue, on-left and on-in to Religion behind Cat and Cloud Coffee. The two Eagles were already present so as soon as Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain were collected from the bar where they wisely waited out trail, dBASED began Religion and promised it would be brief as the temperature has lowered itself into the low forties.

Here’s what transpired there: Cumz and Broke Bench for not placing one rear paw on trail; they were joined by Puff who decided to sing them the same song as one previously sang; dBASED for hashing trail sideways, albeit due to a very strong cross-trail wind; hares were doused with flour by all members of the pack for not USING any flour on this trail. This Hash is over.

That finished off this short Religion. On-on-on was at Taqueria Vallarta on 41st Avenue.

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. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-33.

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-sixth day of February in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe