Big Balls,

That’s what’s used here at the Boardwalk Bowl. It would appear that the same may be said for our hare-pair, dBASED and (second) wife Occasional Rapist. Now while the Boardwalk and it’s thousands of visitors may be directly across the street, the area mere blocks away is not safe to traverse unless armed. And that is, but of course, precisely where we were led this evening. More on that later though.

We assembled on the patio where it was warm and our canine companions were allowed. Speaking of our four-legged friends, Chewy, upon hearing who the hares were, tossed up his dinner. My Best Friend’s Cock was kind enough to clean it up but such an action would become more prevalent as trail progressed and more and more hounds became sick over trail. Occasional Rapist announced the hares would leave on time so those that were interested would be able to attend a band concert at the Boardwalk. This did not happen. Eventually though, after ingesting sufficient liquid courage, Occasional Rapist delivered Instructions of Trail. Hares-out.

The pack ignored the fact the hares’ leaving brought us that much closer to having to leave ourselves but, resigned to our fate, we ignored our destiny and continued socializing. This is one of the main tasks we’ve saddled our GM’s with: insuring the pack actually DOES leave and pursue the hares. To that end, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responding barks from: Today Is Monday, Jersey Lunchbox, Steamy Baanorrhea, Clearly Not A Hooker, My Best Friend’s Cock, Bacon Queef, Just Foot Pussy, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Accuprick, Cum You Will Not, Wines Like A Bitch, Rainbow Buttthole, Virgin Kayla, Lock Nut Monster, Just Sam and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Dung-Fu Grip would hash trail long after us and arrive only just in time for Religion. Our canine companions were represented by Boulder, Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick and Chewy(the barfer). Pack out.

The check on the corner of Beach Street and Cliff Street proved to be the hares’ SECOND 15 minute lead time as between dodging hundreds of people and sniffing for trail it took quite a while to locate trail on-left on Beach Street. This worked until Raymond Street where we were pointed on-left. Now this is where things became somewhat sketchy if not downright frightening. This is not an area where one would wish to wear red, blue is the preferred color to swaddle oneself with here. At least the sun was still high in the blue sky. Raymond was used until an on-right through Beach Flats Park and onto Kaye Street. We’re only getting in deeper. One block later the troops were turned on-left onto Park Place and came face to face with a strange sight.

The ‘park’ pictured above 1) Looks more like a Nebraska cornfield and 2) I am not aware of a large contingency of poets living in this general area. I bet locals were not asked by the City what would be an appropriate name for this spot.

We went around this park back to Raymond Street where an on-right brought us to Third Street. Here we were directed on-left and then on-right over the river and on-right again on the river levee until it ends below Oceanview Park. False markings were found on-up towards the park much to Jersey Lunchbox’s dismay. Trail proceeded through the former Jessie Street Marsh, conveniently filled in by our wise City fathers many years ago. Tail proceeded through this field, on-left on Lemos Street and one block later we were pointed onto the wilds of Alley 938.(Are all alleys in this town numbered?) This is an undeveloped, pot-hole filled path frequented by nefarious persons best not encountered in the dark. Everyone escaped but just barely. At the end of the alley, trail proceeded on-left onto Barson Street. Barson was used until making an on-left onto Riverside Avenue. Riverside was taken to Riverside Gardens Park where we traipsed through to San Lorenzo Boulevard and on-right on-up to Broadway.

Once there we went on-left over the river and then on-left again on the river levee and on-right on-up the hideously steep steps to the top of Beach Hill.

Once topping the stairs, trail went on-right on Third Street and on-right again onto Front Street, on-down to Pacific Avenue and on-left there. Along this stretch we encountered a man using watermelon rind as a drug delivery system. We gave him credit for being inventive at least. Trail progressed across Center Street into Depot Park. In the Park we were treated to a pointless circle jerk around the last remaining vestiges of what was the railway station. (Hence the name Depot Park) Trail circled the building and then turned on-right onto the Depot Cycleway. Along this stretch, our highly favored BN mark was observed and we pulled into Beer Check beneath the West Cliff Drive bridge.

Religion was staged under the same bridge on the tracks. Accuprick victimized a number of hashers and here’s a sampling of those poor bastards: Broke Bench Mountain celebrated his 469th hash with us; Visitors were welcomed; Virgin Kayla was accosted; Dung-Fu Grip mocked as DFL; Clearly Not A Hooker was punished for staging a Gorilla Beer Check at her house; Cum You Will Not for having an Ice Cream Check; people whose dogs crapped(or puked!) on trail and short-cutters. Oh. The hares. They were thanked for the good starting spot but no mention was made of trail. Seeing the hares again prompted Accuprick to declare and 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. Do not allow the profound 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-Oh-4.

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 eighth day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe