Picture this…

Five hares and eight hounds equally split between harriers and harriettes. A combination both rare and bizarre. Then again, the annual Picture Hash has always proven somewhat bizarre, most of which in reality is the fault of our hare-pair, dBASED and (second) wife Occasional Rapist. More on these two jokers later, we have other matters to attend to first.

The assembly process began at the abode of our hare-pair in their backyard. It was quite warm for a late December evening, some hashers even decided they were overdressed for this event. There was some minuscule stripping performed. The family’s new fire box was stocked with wood knowing that upon our return it would be a requisite item. A small pack slowly evolved made even smaller upon the revelation we would encounter FIVE hares over the course of the evening. This may well be a club record and not really the kind of which we will be proud. The again, I have taken note of the fact many of our records are not the kind you will brag to Mom and Dad about anyway. Many hares and hounds sported their Christmas finery which led me to believe there was not to be many runners this night. Sensing no more hounds would appear and wishing to avoid further embarrassment, dBASED delivered this year’s version of Instructions of Trail and noted there would be a Turkey/ Eagle split. Sounds dangerous, let’s see how THAT develops.

The hares stated 5 minutes would be sufficient lead time which pretty much gave away the first Beer Check, directly across the street at WomenCare. Hare(s) out.

Five or so minutes later, Broke Bench Mountain called for Circelup for Introductions and heard from the following: Flours For Anal Bum, Steamy Baanorrhea, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Pink Cherry Licker, Cum You Will Not, Snake Me Anywhere, Jizziki and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. No canine contingency this eve. Also, it should be noted Broke Bench Mountain decided he would be better served assisting Cumz Out My Nose with her rehab from double-knee replacement and exited the vicinity at a high rate of speed once introductions were completed. Pack(walking) out.

True to our surmise, WomenCare was our first stop. There we encountered the hare-pair of Princess Di(arrhea) and (current) husband Thmp-Thmp. Libations were distributed and the next picture was distributed, obviously the entrance to New Brighton State Beach so it was down Park Avenue we journeyed. Steamy Baanorrhea searched in vain for the opening in the fence beside Highway 1 only to discover our highly efficient CalTrans crew have repaired this. Well, that’s understandable. It’s far easier to knit a fence back together than repair any of the damn potholes in the highway. We circled around.

Upon arriving at the park entrance, we encountered Occasional Rapist leaning against the sign swilling away on the alcoholic offering she had for us. She handed Steamy a picture and it was quite obviously campsite 69 in the campground area. Uh…it’s really dark, if one did not bring a torch they will most likely fall a great distance. But off we went. We went on-up from the road along a trail we took a few months ago and entered the campground, a surprising number of RV’s in attendance, and stumbled through the dark until finding dBASED at campsite 69.

The next picture was that of the intersection of Park Avenue and Coronado Street which is across Park from the tracks where we have started multiple times. Another trek into the darkened depths of the park was undertaken. Eventually we found the parking lot and from there it was a treacherous on-up to Park Avenue. As soon as we crested the hill, we were treated to the sight of Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp leisurely lounging and passing a huge flask back and forth.

After partaking of the offering here, Steamy Baanorrhea took off on the Eagle trail. Puff decided to follow him in case he needed medical assistance. The Eagles went back down the treacherous hill to the parking lot for the park and then on-down to the trail beside the beach heading back towards the campground. At the bottom of the long set of steps leading on-up to the campground, dBASED was observed. We were somewhat surprised to see him, and then he handed Steamy the picture. It was the intersection of Park Avenue and Coronado! The Eagle trail was, basically speaking, a YBF! Curse these hares. On-back we went.

Once back at the Liquor Check, the Turkeys had arrived and the place was in full-on party mode. Finally dragging ourselves on-out, we continued along Coronado and went on-left onto Sir Francis, on-right onto Cortez Street, on-left onto Columbus Drive, on-right onto Elinor Street which brought us to Monterey Avenue. Taking an on-right here brought us to a check at Kennedy Drive which was universally ignored. We proceeded along Kennedy to Park Avenue and hooked an on-left there. We believed we were finally on-in but the hares had one more dastardly deed to dump on us. Just prior to our starting point, another Beer Check was staged in a business parking lot. Finally, FINALLY, the hare pentagon was done jerking us around and we proceeded back to the start. The fire box was fired up and beers grabbed as Religious Adviser Pink Cherry Licker cranked up her Religion Machine. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs she issued: Steamy Baanorrhea was awarded a congratulatory down-down for marking trail; Flours For Anal Bum staring into a hole which had nothing inside it; Cold Smegma Kamikaze for refusing to believe a picture(!) and insisted trail went down to the Bay; Cum You Will Not was awarded Best Costume; dBASED and Pink Cherry Licker for screwing-up a hash song; Junk Puncher for his 275th hash with us; Cum You Will Not, Pink Cherry Licker and Snake Me Anywhere for saying they were doing fine and immediately became lost on trail and Flours For Anal Bum for not knowing even one small hash song. That concluded Religion. Oh, the pentagonal hare ensemble. Uh, thanks for the tamales, that’s the best we can say about ya! The face-feed finalized Hash Twelve-24 and I so do for this Trash as well.

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 mind that I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-24.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe