Greetings,

In preparation for what will undoubtedly be a very trying trail today, let’s relive the splendor of last week’s Turkey Trot Trail. Well, more specifically the glory of Beer Check, trail itself will be glossed over very quickly.

We began with a sojourn at venerable Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon. While it will never be quite the same place without Mitzi, the swinging doors still operate smoothly and without a telltale squeak revealing their advanced years. When moving, they make far fewer disturbing noises than Surf City Senile Senior Citizen TIMMY!!

We had an exceptional turnout only magnified by some hashers from over-the-hill; Today Is Monday, Yellow Prick Load, Shanghiney, Missile Anus and Dual Tools. Mr. Wiggly came up from Can’d H3- Monterey dragging the only offspring of which he is aware, Little Miss Can’t Say No! We saw some Surf City backsliders but we’ll deal with those jokers on a one-on-one basis during Religion.

Hare-pair Steamy Baanorrhea and Occasional Rapist delivered a promising tale of Instructions of Trail. Sadly, I noted very few of their promises were fulfilled. They then outed…in opposite directions which is always a red flag to the pack. After deciding we really should do trail, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose circled the clan for introductions.  

Responding barks were detected from the following hounds: Wicked Retahted, Pink Cherry Licker, Dung-Fu Grip, Accuprick, Jizziki, Just Holly(still), Underwhere?, Cum You Will Not, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Six of Nine, Hugh Heifer, Leaky Rubber, Shanghiney, Shallow Hole, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Banana Basher, Bailas Con Burros, Missile Anus, Chippin’ Ballz, Just Jennie, Baker’s Dozen’t, Yellow Prick Load, Today Is Monday, Dual Tools(Up My Ass), Mr. Wiggly, Cumfart Zone, Little Miss Can’t Say No! and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. A respectable number of unrespectable people. 

Mass confusion right from the get-go as most waited for the direction of true trail to be discovered after the hare-pair split up at the start.

After the correct direction was ascertained, the clan charged east on Portola Drive but soon discovered a check at 38th Avenue. This was soon solved and sent the pod prancing on-left on 38th to another check at Blue and Gold Star Mobile Home Park. This was solved and, no surprise here, the troops were taken to the tracks and turned on-left. No mater how much you dislike trotting on tracks, try to keep reminding yourself, I hate sand more, I hate sand more… A decent distance along the railroad tracks, FRB’s Underwhere? and Baker’s Dozen’t met up with a ‘fish hook’. No, not the kind fishermen use but the kind employed by vindictive, small-minded hares in an effort to insure they are not snared. As you know, the FRB’s to a fish hook take the alcohol from the fish hook and ever-so-kindly deliver it to the DFL’s. How rude!

 

Along the tracks we plodded until we arrived at a desolate industrial district at the end of Thompson Avenue. This was deemed an ugly enough area by the hares so we peeled off on-right until Brommer Street where an on-left was indicated which would soon bring the gang to 30th Avenue where another on-left was dictated. This would instigate the long and laborious undertaking of 30th until it FINALLY comes to Portola Drive where this whole fiasco was initiated oh-so-long ago. After the dangerous crossing of busy four-land Portola, we simply continued plodding the dreariness of 30th.

As we arrived at Moran Lake Trail, a hare arrow directed the drove on-right onto said trail and to traipse such to East Cliff Drive.

Once we rounded the horn of Moran Lake, we passed Moran Way and came to East Cliff Drive where the dangerous crossing of such was undertaken. Once across we headed on-right to South Palisades Avenue which is an on-left circle-jerk and brought us right back to East Cliff Drive. Once there was an on-right followed by another quick on-right onto Rockview Drive. Just prior to the terminus of the road, a narrow locals-only led the litter on-left onto the beach locally and colloquially called Marty Mechanic Beach. Marty was, well, a local mobile mechanic who surfed here for years and frequently eschewed donning a wet suit. 

Beer Check was a multifaceted affair. Hashers draining beers, standing on rocks daring Monterey Bay to assault them, fiercely socializing, taking videos. The Flash will be a better chronicler of these activities than this Scribe.

After the waste of sufficient time, the GM’s moved us along to Casa de Wicked Retahted back on 30th Avenue. Once there, in addition to Religion, there was some serious tree climbing to be had.

Accuprick convened Religion, here’s a sampling of down-downs distributed: Shallow Hole was unable to attend AGM so she was now presented a gift for her service as treasurer; visitors were recognized, Bailas Con Burros was presented an award for (finally!) completing her 100th hash with us, Leakey Rubber for fanning himself during Religion as if it’s a hundred degrees, Chippin’ Ballz for having to remove much of her turkey outfit in order to use the bathroom, Just Jennifer for complaining she’d anticipated seeing body parts at her first hash and saw none. (Ed. note: SHE went the joke route herself rather than flashing)

And the hares…Steamy Baanorrhea and Occasional Rapist. They were thanked for a scenic Beer Check location but reminded it was in actuality absolutely none of their doing.

With the hares dispensed with, RA Accuprick declared Hash 1164 to be over and so is this Hash 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.

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 second day of December in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe