Salutations,

I’d rather begin this Trash with a (pointless) discussion of our weather than a recap of the dastardly deed done the drove last Thursday. Faithful harriettes Cum You Will Not and Chippin’ Ballz, with almost 375 hashes having passed beneath their rear paws, are two of our most ardent hashers. Sadly, all this experience has not translated in making them efficient hares. I realize this is an assertion both bold and cold but one I intend to support before declaring an end to this Trash.

A good starting point is always to start at the start so that is where I shall start. The Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon. This place lives down to it’s name right down to the swinging saloon doors giving access to a small, dark room full of enough Western memorabilia to make Wyatt Earp reach for his six-shooter and a bottle of Red Eye Whiskey. From viewing the clientele, one would assume the name was chosen to reflect the facade of those that inhabit it: over-the-hill. The denizens that frequent this watering hole are both over-the-hill as well as having been put-out-to-pasture decades ago. And so here we are in a place where it would take any two hashers to equal the age of ONE of the locals. Well, with the obvious exception of TIMMY!! that is. The pack stuck mostly to the outdoor drinkin’ area as the people inside did not appear to be especially welcoming of us and we were branded as interlopers. The taco truck next door was a big draw even though adding additional weight prior to hashing is discouraged. Only beer should be added to your being prior to on-out.

Only slightly behind schedule, hare-pair Cum You Will Not and Chippin’ Ballz delivered Instructions of Trail. There appeared to be some confusion as to exactly what their trail would encompass and exactly how long it would be. This led to much laughter on the hares’ part but little mirth was felt by the pack. Hares away.

The passage of the fifteen minute lead time passed uneventfully. The only pleasure felt was in the consumption of our beers and impending trail was not discussed at all. With both GM’s having wisely skipped this sad session, dBASED called for on-out deleting the usual Circleup for Introductions claiming we all knew each other quite well by this stage in our lives. Pack out.

Little enthusiasm was shown for rapid movement as the mongrels motivated east along Portola Drive until encountering a check at the intersection with 40th Avenue. TIMMY!! threw caution to the wind and hot-footed it across Portola and soon sounded on-on on 40th. 40th actually comes to an abrupt end but this did not deter our hare-pair as they utilized a business sidewalk and parking lot to take the troops to 41st Avenue. The wiser amongst us cross Portola at a marked pedestrian crossing and came on-up 41st that way. We were soon directed across 41st and at the next intersection, that with Bain Avenue, the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. It’s a beautiful evening here in Pleasure Point, let’s fly with the Eagles.

Trail proceeded north on 41st past the accursed railroad tracks and then took an on-right into a business driveway, behind a group of businesses and across two parking lots to deliver us onto Jade Street and on-right once there. By virtue of the fact only dBASED and Puff were the only ones foolhardy enough to take on the Eagle trail, things began to get a little shaky along this section of trail. Here’s the best reconstruction my feeble brain can conjure.

A Whichy-Way at 42nd and on-left onto 42nd proved correct. This was followed by an on-right onto Diamond Street which brought us to 45th Avenue, on-left and to a check at Capitola Road. The check here was solved pointing us on-right onto Capitola Road. Two blocks later a hare arrow turned us on-right onto 49th Avenue. We are now deep in the Jewel Box area of Capitola. One block later an arrow led on-left onto Emerald Street. When Emerald ends at Prospect Avenue, an arrow turned us on-right. Prospect was taken until it emerges overlooking the Capitola wharf and Monterey Bay.

We crossed Cliff Drive heading on-right and rejoined the Turkeys at Opal Cliff Drive and proceeded along Opal Cliff until seeing the BN mark and making the on-left on-down to Privates beach. Upon completion of our task here, we began following trail continuing on-left on Opal Cliff Drive towards 41st Avenue. Banana Basher and Puff saw no point in continuing with this fiasco so we shortcut back to the site for Religion which gave us a ten minute advantage on the rest of the pack and our pick of the available ales.

Once the DFL’s arrived(that’s the entire pack except for Banana Basher and Puff), Religious Adviser Pink Cherry Licker started up Religion. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this night: Snapping Twat, who only showed for Religion, was punished as a backslider; dBASED, in the most criminal act he has performed in years, was punished for leaving the start with Junk Puncher still tied to a bar stool, Occasional Rapist had to call his attention to this horrendous oversight; Banana Basher was awarded a congratulatory down-down for actually completing all of trail; Bailas Con Burros joined Banana as it was she who coerced him into doing the entirety of trail; Mr. Wiggly celebrated his 25th hash with us. And the hares…they were informed Beer Check was nice but no mention was made of trail. Next week’s hare-pair, TIMMY!! and (only known) offspring Pink Cherry Licker announced Hash Twelve-Oh-8 would begin from West Remote up on the UC campus. With that, PCL declared a close to this Hash and I do so for this Trash as well.

It was a pleasantly short Religion thereby allowing much of the herd to migrate back to the Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon and catch Just Paulie’s last set. Most Excellent!

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 mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-Oh-7.

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 thirty-first 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