Greetings,

In preparation for tonight’s annual invasion of the FHAC-U, I wish to remind you how tragic last week’s trail was so you will not hate the trip over-the-hill so much. I doubt anyone enjoys challenging Highway 17 at any time and even more so on a dark Winter evening.

So, we begin this post-Hallowe’en tale-of-terror from the (Nasty) Asti. Those of you not comatose during your visits there may have taken note of the following upgrades: more lighting, the floor has been cleaned to the point your no longer risk having your shoes yanked off when moving about, the alcohol posters on the wall promoting your alcoholism have been cleaned to the point you can actually read them and the bar has been replaced with light-colored pine lacquered making it far less bacteria-infested than previously. Sadly, most of the denizens that frequent this old(est. 1938) watering hole still continue to infiltrate.

The area farthest from the door was commandeered by the pack. This aided us in 1) seeing what manner of creature entered the establishment and 2) somewhat protected us from the chill night air of early December. This also served to make socializing an easier commodity.

Around the announced time of 6.66,(translated? Oh, say 6:39PM) Dung-Fu Grip(von Krampus) and Baker’s Dozen’t(Herr Krampus) slithered forward to spew forth Instructions of Trail. I would recount them but I, like everyone else I looked at, completely ignored them as these two jokers are well-know prevaricators. 

After this week’s clown pair exited, socializing was reinstituted. This may have proceeded indefinitely had someone not inquired of our GM’s when they intended to call for Circleup for Introductions. This was another part of their leaning curve for GM-ship. This is, however, a vast improvement over last week at least where neither of them showed up at all leaving the pack floundering on the rocks with no leadership at all.

On-out was on-left an entire half block until a check at Pacific Avenue and Laurel. Trail was discovered continuing on Pacific to Birch Lane where an on-left was indicated taking us past the extinct Poet and Patrior Irish Pub and to Cedar Street. Here we were lucky enough to find Liquor Check prior to it’s being sniffed out by any of the local residents that reside in the bushes outside Kumba Jazz Center.

After Liquor Check was dealt with it was on-right on Cedar Street, on-left on Elm and one block later on-right on Center Street and past Puff’s (mercifully) gated apartment building. Then we took a turn on-left onto New Street and an on-right onto private property of Lincoln Court. The Lincoln Court units were built in the mid-twenties, almost a century ago. That’s really old, it’s even a few years before Surf City Senile Senior Citizen TIMMY!! was constructed. 

Once safely completed the trespassing of Lincoln Court, it was on-left on Lincoln Street to Chestnut Street where a solved check pointed the pod on-right. Chestnut was utilized past the train tunnel under Mission Hill, on-right on Cedar Street and on-left on Plaza Lane which brought us to Pacific where an on-right was quickly followed by an on-left onto Cooper and eventually taking us through the Galleria and across the pedestrian bridge rising above the flaccid San Lorenzo River. Through San Lorenzo Park we motivated, on-right on Dakota Street and just prior to Branciforte Creek, an arrow directed us on-right back into the park and on-left over the creek and onto the river levee walkway. This was taken to Riverside Avenue where we were turned on-right to the Boardwalk side of the river. Once safely across, the gang was directed on-left onto Third Street and then on-right on Kaye Street. We’re now right in the heart of gang territory, I hope no one wore red for the Christmas season, it may prove a fatal mistake. The local Surenos abhor the color red and use it for target practice.   

We’re now passing the Beach Flats Park and transition to Raymond Street which brings us to Beach Street. Marker made us on-up the small hill onto the grounds of the lonely Boardwalk and on-right once there.

We cruised along the length on the Boardwalk to Cliff Street and were pointed on-right and past the Boardwalk Bowl, site of many fun Hash events in the past. Cliff was used until Third Street where a solved check turned the troops on-left. Not long after passing Golden Gate Villa, which, incidentally, has an intriguing history, our highly coveted BN mark was observed and at the top of the now closed locals-only shortcut back to Pacific, Beer Check was staged.

Business concluded here, on-in was back past Golden Gate Villa and on-left onto Cliff Street where the treacherous wet metal steps gave access to Laurel Street Extension and ultimately to Religion location behind Wheel Works tire store.  Once libations and packages of Vitamin J, AKA junk food, were distributed, Pink Cherry Licker assumed the role of dominatrix and convened the herd for Religion. Here’s a smattering of down-downs she distributed: Cum You Will Not for saying shelter would be required for Religion this cold night, our GM’s for not knowing they are responsible to run the pack out of the bar for on-out, our visitors from the FHAC-U were honored, Carlos Danger was chided for her backsliding ways, Carlos Danger was recognized for completing her 50th hash with us, Puff the Magic Drag Queen was mocked for completing his 1150th hash with us. That’s about it…oh, wait. The accursed hare-pair. The RA conducted a fruitless search for a fistful of birch rods with which to punish these bad children. Sadly, they were merely verbally abused by an ungrateful pack and awarded punitive down-downs.  

The RA, sensing she was losing control of the herd, declared Hash 1166 to be over and dismissed the pack. That also signals the end to this Hash Trash…with one unjustified addendum. Rumor Control contends Yellow Prick Load, Today Is Monday and Drink and Squirt were later witnessed continuing to swill-away at Abbott Square.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. One should never let the facts 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 sixteenth 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