A picture is worth a thousand words.

Old cliche but nonetheless applicable in this situation. The featured picture in this week’s Trash supports the title of this edition. This picture is the ‘Chalk Talk’ Jersey Lunchbox gave the pack prior to on-out. That was considerate, however, there were two caveats. One, only a small percentage of the pack was told they should listen and two, due either to their level of intoxication or innate laziness, the hares altered the meaning of some of these marks without giving advance notice to the pursuing pack. Please observe, if it please ya, two of the marks, top row towards the right side. You will no doubt recognize the hare arrow and the check, minus the ubiquitous flour. Now notice the three marks to the left of the hare arrow. The middle one is a complete arrow while the marks on either side have but one barb on the left side. You are only able to discriminate between them by size. As trail progressed, our standard hare arrow lost one of it’s barbs and morphed into what we generally call a pack arrow. Additionally, the check first lost it’s flour and then eventually progressed to merely an open circle minus the ‘X’, what we had heretofore referred to as a back check mark. We know there are no rules in hashing, merely traditions. However, I believe it incumbent upon the hare(s) that notice be given the pack that traditions may change at any time, even while the trail itself is in progress. More on the tragic consequences of our hares behavior later.

Driving up Mora Street to the start, I followed a very slow moving black-and-white. He pulled to the left side of the road near where Steamy Baanorrhea was holding court. I drove on past and gave no thought whatsoever to parking close by. Words were exchanged and then the constable motored away. Apparently there was a woman of dubious mental faculties walking along the sidewalk whom earlier had caused some concern among local residents. The officer requested Steamy to phone in if any more commotion arose. Not an especially auspicious beginning to the hash.

It was well after 6PM until more hounds began to appear. As a matter of fact even by 6:20 it was looking like a single digit number of hounds. Expectations were apparently very low for this hare-pair. Not long after 6:33, Jersey Lunchbox slithered away to leave Just John to answer the question as to what the hell was going on. His only response was that Jersey had left requiring additional time and he would leave soon. When your hares have no more respect for tradition than this, we should have surmised trail would be equally as insulting. Eventually we noticed Just John had sneaked away and co-GM Broke Bench Mountain placed him on the clock. The next fifteen minutes, or however the hell long it actually was, passed unremarkably and were finished by a call for Circleup for Introductions. This resulted in responding barks from: Clearly Not A Hooker, International House of Pussy, Cunt Double, Cum You Will Not, Snake Me Anywhere, Pink Cherry Licker, 2 Dicks Down, Steamy Baanorrhea, Flours For Anal Bum, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, TIMMY!!, Beequeefer, Courtesy Flush and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canines this week were Scratch and Sniff and Spot’d Dick. Pack out.

The Turkey/Eagle split was right at the start. Eagles on-left on-up towards Holy Cross Church and Turkeys on-right on-up the pedestrian path. We never lost sight of each other!

The gaggle reunited a hundred yards later at the pedestrian bridge crossing over Highway 1. A second Turkey/Eagle split was found just across the bridge. It would appear the Eagles will challenge Wagner Grove, that does not interest me in the dead of night, let’s gobble with the Turkeys. The turkeys continued on High Street and took the first on-left, Highland Avenue, followed by an on-right onto King Street. We ran with the King until Walnut where an on-left was dictated and then the dangerous crossing of Mission Street. TIMMY!! even crossed against the signal. Walnut was taken until the steps on-left that lead on-up to Towne Terrace. This brought the brood back to Mission Street where we went on-right to Chrystal Terrace and on-right. This brought us to an unauthorized walkway past an apartment building to Pine Place where an arrow pointed the pod on-right onto the pedestrian walkway on Locust Street. There, resting on their haunches, we found the hare-pair swilling PBR. This began an extended Beer Check as we could certainly not abandon the beer until at least one Eagle arrived. We were able to get the hares out though. Once a Eagle landed, the Turkeys were out and on-down to Chestnut Street soon followed by the Eagles.

We were able to trace trail on-left on Chestnut, on-right on Union Street and then on-left to violate the grounds of City Hall. When we arrived at Locust Street, we found an open circle marking. The interpretation of such varied from hound to hound. In short, the pack scattered to the four winds. Rumor Control contends trail was later discovered on Cedar Street, on-right at Mission and on-left across to North Pacific. This account, too, varies from hound to hound. We did, however, reunite and cross Mission to North Pacific.

You can probably see what’s on the menu next: the Anthony stairs on-up to School Street. Once we regained our breath, it was a short on-in back to the start on Mora Street behind Holy Cross Church. Once everyone was home, Pink Cherry Licker started her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: Beequeefer as an extreme backslider; Broke Bench Mountain for forgetting the words to, My Name Is Jack; Cunt Double and Courtesy Flush as lookalikes; Jersey Lunchbox for flashing at Beer Check(might be a hare-first for Surf City!); Flours for Anal Bum for dropping a beer bottle on trail. We also had a naming. Just John has fulfilled the requisite requirements and has morphed into…Circle Gherking. Welcome. Oh, the hares. Everyone appreciated the scenic trail but no one expressed affection for the morphing marks. This compelled the RA to end this Hash and I hereby do so for this Trash as well.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possible not as they actually happened. One should never allow the facts to stand in the way of a good story. Do not allow the profound to become 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 to not complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this goal in mind I recounted the components that comprised Hash Twelve-19.

By Special appointment of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, the 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 twenty-third day of November in the year of our Hash two thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe