Welcome to Mardi Gras Madness…

Santa Cruz style. This encompasses convening in a dark dive bar, wearing insane attire and swilling copious quantities of rotgut alcohol. This is a formula guaranteed to make even the most dedicated party-goers in New Orleans envious and possibly somewhat fearful.

However, be that as it may, that is precisely what the denizens of the Surf City H3 attempted on the frigid night of February twenty-fourth. With the mercury soon to fall below the fifty degree mark, only L’eggs braved the cold to display seldom-seen areas of her torso. This may simply be yet further proof of her half-mindedness. At least she did not pilot her arrest-me-red motorbike to the hash this night.

The majority of the pack (foolishly) shunned the warm interior of Callahan’s Bar and drifted to the outdoor drinkin’ area, AKA ‘A Parking Lot’, where they found room to move and socialize all the while attempting to keep their joints from freezing solid. This continued well past our traditional 6:33 hares-out time. This may have been an effort on the part of our hare-pair, dBASED and (second) wife Occasional Rapist, to turn the pursuing pack into a viscous mass of protoplasm thus decreasing the likelihood of their being snared. It did not enamor us of them to put it mildly though. Eventually they did spit-up what they considered pertinent aspects of their trail. To most of us it sounded more like a sales manual for their trail and little more that propaganda.

After the passage of the requisite fifteen minute lead time, co-GM’s Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circelup for Introductions and heard responding barks from the following cold canines: Cum You Will Not, Wicked Retahted, My Little Bony, Baker’s Dozen’t, Steamy Baanorrhea, Chippin’ Ballz, L’eggs, Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Clearly Not A Hooker, Just Nicole, Penis Horn Deformity, Dicky Wacker, Courtesy Flush and Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

On-out took us eastward from Callahan’s to the intersection with Market Street. Here we were pointlessly pointed across Water Street and on-up the hill to the intersection with Branciforte Avenue. Here were were coerced into crossing right back over Water Street to the side we were previously on to complete a totally pointless jaunt. Trail continued on-up Branciforte and then on-left onto Rose Avenue. For an unknown reason, the FRB’s took an on-right when Rose ends one block later and onto Linden Street. Half a block later we determined this had been another poor choice made by half-minded hashers and we reversed course. We passed Rose Avenue (again) and continued to the end of Linden where a locals-only blocked-off street leads onto Berkeley Court (not the kind of ‘court’ most of you will one day visit) and which feeds onto Berkeley Way where Clearly Not A Hooker was proud to loudly yell On-right! though the pack was a scant twenty-five feet behind her. She seemed quite proud of her FRB status. From this episode, I believe she has a bright future as a half-mind.

Berkeley Way was taken to it’s end point…and beyond by utilizing the pedestrian bridge above the concrete confines of Branciforte Creek. At Market Street, for the second time tonight, marker pointed us on-right and soon on-right again and onto the walkway beside Branciforte Creek. This is a deathly dark and dangerous diversion from the purpose of hashing so we’ll fast forward to the other end of this trail to where Liquor Check was staged and was ably anchored by co-hare Occasional Rapist. As this was an early salute to next week’s Mardi Gras, Hurricane cocktails were served. Hurricane, consisting of light and dark rum as well as Grenadine, is little more than sucrose syrup and was rejected by Accuprick on the grounds he did not wish to add diabetes to his list of medical concerns.

Upon the conclusion of our business here, trail proceeded to Market Street (yet again) and on-right to the locals-only bridge spanning Branciforte Creek and onto the Market-Lee Walkway which took the troops under Highway 1 and on-left onto Lee Street. It doesn’t matter how well lit this pathway is because there’s no one around to hear you yell for help after being jumped by highwaymen. Consequently, everyone was overjoyed to safely negotiate this section of trail and get to Emeline Avenue where an on-left was dictated.

At Fernside Street the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. I anticipate a series of unpleasant occurrences occurring on the Eagle trail this night. Let’s gobble with the Turkeys.

Emeline was used until Grant Street where a one block on-right was followed by an on-left onto Berry Street was followed one block later by an on-right onto Coulson Avenue. One block later an on-left put us on May Avenue which conveniently runs right beside Callahan’s where this tale of torture began. Sadly, we passed right on by. We were then coerced into crossing Water Street but were rewarded by successfully completing this dangerous undertaking by viewing the BN mark. And there, across the street from Dig Gardens and beside a tall fence protecting the Ramada Inn parking lot, Beer Check was illegally staged on a public street.

After having pushed our luck as far as we though we could, we strolled over to the parking lot of a closed restaurant beside Callahan’s and (foolishly) assembling under a security light, Religion was convened. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued by Religious Adviser Accuprick: As this was our Mardi Gras salute, anyone that has ever been to New Orleans was commended; backsliders were burned; Baker’s Dozen’t was mocked for short-cutting over a fence and jamming a tree limb up his nose upon landing; we had two analversaries, that being Chippin’ Ballz at 75 hashes and dBASED has reached the incredibly lofty height of one-THOUSAND Surf City hashes. And with that momentous milestone in the books, the RA declared an end to this Hash and I 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 first 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