‘Twas thirteen nights before Christmas and where should we gather,
But the Old Creepy Place, to drink and to blather.
We collected up toys from bike helmets to blocks,
And assembled them there to ship off to the tots.

Dressed up all as santas, some tame and some bawdy,
Some wore shiggy socks that read nice and naughty.
Some friends just stopped by at the start ‘cuz they’re lazy,
Pearl, Norm, Twat, Harry, Choka and Baby!

Then off we set, to follow the flour,
And brave Soquel traffic during rush hour.
And while we dodged two-doors, and hatchbacks and truckers,
From one car we heard “ON-ON MOTHERFUCKRS!”

Before long we found an elixir so sweet,
It warmed us up from our heads to our feet,
Hidden from hobos, and children, and cops,
Was a little glass bottle of peppermint schnopps.

Accuprick cried, “It won’t be enough,
Can’t you see all the Hashers that want at that stuff?”
Oh what a Grinch, to balk at us all,
Which organ of his is three sizes too small?

And last us it did and we ran round the ‘hood,
Through alleys and streets we were up to no good.
We ran here and there on our fanciful trek,
And over and over we hollered out, “Check!”

‘Til at last we arrived, this silly old pack,
At our Shangri-la, Banana’s Dude Shack.
On beers we were sipping, on chips we were feeding,
Some of us freezing and Cum Pumper bleeding.

Then off to religion at Casa de Puff,
There was beer and hash dinner and if that wasn’t enough,
There was hot buttered rum as prepared by Dung Fu,
An undeserved treat for this half-minded crew.

Our RA, Accu, regaled us with song,
We all did our best as we sang along.
On Crimes out on trail, he asked our advice,
And Twisted Fister was called for just being too nice.

Down downs for backsliders brought up to mock,
Penny Slot, Slow Nads, New Kids on My Cock.
Dung Fu regaled us in a voice deep and husky,
With a song about kids and old Coach Sanduski.
We finished our Rum (that manna from heaven)
Then headed on home or to Double Oh Seven.
Overall a good night, didn’t see the police.
Merry Christmas to all, and may the Hash get a piece.

Okay, here goes nothing on my first Hash Trash. I was nominated to replace Princess as one of the three Scribettes while she moves on to bigger and better things, because I “seem smart enough.” But if I was really that smart, would I be here? And would I have gotten roped into a job with homework?

Hash #717 started out at Kauboi down in Aptos. It’s located where the old Britannia Arms used to be, and while it’s now a sushi place, it still has a pub feeling to it. Hashers enjoyed some beer and Sake while procrastinating the move out into the cold November evening.

While the pack searched for trail, I ended up going straight to beer check (where the cooler was conspicuously lacking in anything girly to drink). I really could have used a drink because while we were waiting for you wankers, Accuprick explained to me how he designed every nook and cranny of his back yard. He also explained, as I shivered, that there are heat lamps up on the deck and that he could easily turn them on, but that the hashers wouldn’t be going up there. At least he put on some decent music. Speaking of Accu, if you were one of his confidants that night you probably got to see some pretty interesting pictures. You could also see them if you were nosey and sharing a truck-ride to religion.

Occasional decided that one pound of flour would be plenty on a rainy night, as long as she mixed it with a shit-ton of oatmeal. (For those of you keeping score I think a shit-ton, in this case, was roughly equal to another pound, making the grand total two pounds of marking substance.) This resulted in a sparsely marked meander through the neighborhood including treacherous stair cases and grown men straddling wet bridges. And thus began the process of everyone losing trail and hoping they were walking with someone who knew where the fuck Accuprick lives.

Early on in trail Ocassional left a true trail arrow with the word MAYBE scrawled underneath. Is this some new sign she picked up in Panama? This sign also showed up as a true trail arrow with only two lines. MAYBE we all need another chalktalk or MAYBE Occasional needs to know where the trail is going before she marks true trail. As she explained, it had been quite rainy the week before and she hadn’t had time to run through the whole trail. She had planned bits and pieces of it but when she put it together, it proved too much for her paling flour bag. She ended up avoiding snaring by hiding in several bushes to evade “a tall guy” and “a guy walking a dog.” Were they hashers nearing in or simply bewildered inhabitants of the neighborhood? Perhaps we’ll never know. Included here is Dung Fu Grip’s artistic interpretation of the MAYBE arrow. Just Bobby has the only known photo and I’m too lazy to get his contact info.

All of our prayers were almost answered that night when Nipple-less Butt tried, but failed to retire dBASED permanently. dBASED was escorting Nipple-less on trail while his wife was haring/hiding in bushes and Nipple-less took the opportunity to run in front of dBASED causing him to trip and fall, summersaulting into oncoming traffic. In his words he “did a full lay out” right in front of a moving car. Unfortunately the motorist in question had catlike reflexes and stopped just in time. He was also able to catch hold of the would be assassin, and return him to his somewhat stunned owner. Sigh…there’s always next week.

The FRBs turned out to be Hugh, Hairy Fuck, Reverse Cow Girls, Cuff, and Little Anal Annie. They lost flour about two miles into trail and just said fuck it. They knew we were headed to Accuprick’s house and were quite pleased to see that they had arrived first, even before the hare. The hare arrived next, followed by the rest of the pack. Apparently there was a Beer Near mark somewhere in a one mile radius of Beer Check and through cunning, perseverance, and dumb luck the half-minds were able to connect the dots.
Religion was thankfully short because it was sooooo cold. We almost lost out new RA to a gopher hole before the whole thing got started, but Cuff valiantly stepped up to discharge her duties despite her brush with death. Accuprick and Cuff My Muff began their term as our Religious Advisers determined to do things a little differently. They’re going to teach us a new song every week, because our canon is pitiful. This week we learned……um…. I forgot. They may need to rethink this strategy for the half-minds. We

welcomed Butt Balls and Little Anal Annie back to the fold with some down-downs (which Annie missed). We also gave our congratulations in the form of down downs to Hairy Fuck 2.0 and Reverse Cowgirls. We wish them the best and, if the stories that came out at her naming are true, we know they’re having a good time. All hats were deemed costumes, perhaps because it was too cold to take them off, perhaps to spite whomever kept yelling “hats!” We all learned about the sacred ritual of “Edtoberfest” from Just Ed. He explained that it’s like Oktoberfest but with his name. I’m glad he spelled it out like that. Some of us weren’t rea

dy for the kind of linguistic cunning that takes one word and replaces part of another word to make a completely new word! On the other hand, I’m always happy to welcome cunning linguists into the fold.
After Religion ended, ON ON ON was back at Kauboi. They have some really tasty food there. I highly recommend the Pork Belly Sliders. Puff got some big blocks of tofu, I guess that’s okay if you like that sort of thing.

See you wankers at the Turkey Trot!

On On

Pink Cherry Licker