Another successful year,

Where was the success, you may ask? Well, no one died on trail or was even incarcerated this year and in hashing terms, that’s damned successful! I say that even though some of you may think(or wish) that one or more of your kennel mates had been locked away for an extended stay at the Gray Bar Motel. Better luck next year. Unless it’s ME you wish to send up the river, that is.

As you know, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to find an affordable, quality facility that accepts hashers. Our Never-Say-Die co-GM’s were able to find such an establishment, and a quality one as well I might add. Vino by the Sea was our intended target this year, a place with a stellar view and a more than adequate beer and wine selection. So, there we were(there we were) up on the second floor of the wharf gathering for our annual meeting, cleverly disguised as a party, watching the world turn and send the sun sinking into the Bay.

Both rooms here at Vino were filled by hashers. A few regulars braved the tumult and retained their usual places at the bar but soon thought better of it and migrated to a different venue. All the usual troublemakers were in attendance except for our GM’s whom decided a certain illness would not render them suitable candidates for a large gathering in an enclosed space.

In lieu of their smiling faces, Dung-Fu Grip received a map of their intended trail and stepped up to hare it for them. That being said, when trail length is mentioned later in this Trash, you’ll see that Swamp Rat could have hared THIS trail…alone! Let’s move along. Hare-out.

Ballots were distributed by Pink Cherry Licker who promised the results would be announced…assuming she certified the election as fair and equitable and had not been stolen.

After all that official stuff was handled, the party was moved to the lower level of the wharf for Circleup for Introductions. Responding howls were heard from: Hareless, dBASED, Pink Cherry Licker, Cum You Will Not, Occasional Rapist Bacon Queef, Just Foot Pussy, Little Anal Annie, Butt Balls, TIMMY!!, Clearly Not A Hooker, Dung-Fu Grip, Today Is Monday, Apple Bobber, Jersey Lunchbox, Steamy Baanorrhea, Just Danielle(soon to change), 2 Dicks Down, Just John, The Arabian Goggler and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. No canine contingency this week, our four-legged companions are not a welcome commodity on the wharf. Pack out.

Butt Balls led the litter along the darkened wharf railing looking as much for tripping hazards as trail marker. Trail crossed to the opposite side of the wharf and proceeded all of two-tenths of a mile to stairs leading on-down to the dock used by Stagnaro’s Whale Watching Excursions. That may sound romantic but try it in the dark sometime! The underbelly of the wharf is not an especially inviting sight and you soon learn where everything goes when you flush the toilet in your favorite wharf restaurant. It was so dark and dismal it’s not possible to estimate what percentage of the pack actually made Beer Check but it was far less than 100, that’s for damn sure. After taking the steps down from the second floor where Vino was located, Just Foot Pussy and Bacon Queef were seen walking 20 feet to the next bar. I’m surprised the lazy bastards didn’t use the elevator and save some energy for more drinkin’. I imagine they are indicative of a larger group of ne’er-do-wells that did not stray far from the free drinks at the venue. They got their 20 bucks worth even before dinner was served.

After depleting the libations at Beer Check, the strenuous on-in was undertaken. It was quite an on-up from the dock, damnit.

On-in was so short many did not even finish their Beer Check beer by the time they arrived back at Vino. Once there, it was face feed time. We were provided with a taco bar that was more than ample. Even His Bulkiness, Banana Basher, was able to placate his burgeoning belly. After our meal, Banana Basher exposed his annual video recap of the past year. It was, as it always is, well produced and hilarious. You can find it on our Facebook page, YouTube and in the weekly press release from the Santa Cruz Police Department. After this was accomplished, co-Religious Adviser’s Pink Cherry Licker and Dung-Fu Grip started up the insult machine. A sampling of down-downs issued are: those that did not make Beer Check, the morphing of Just Danielle into Flour For Anal Bum, Just John and Jersey Lunchbox who felt compelled to actually run this abbreviated trail. Then it was time for ‘awards’, as they are sarcastically called, to be issued. Here’s what transpired for next year’s Mismanagement Team: Occasional Rapist is Hare Raiser; On Sec dBASED; Social Sec Cum You Will Not; Haberdasher is Fap Jack, Scribe, Hash Cash, Hash Flash Puff the Magic Drag Queen; Religious Advisers: Accuprick, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Baker’s Dozen’t, Pink Cherry Licker; GMs Cumz Out My Nose, Broke Bench Mountain; Treasurer, Dung-Fu Grip. Okay, with those wankers out of the way, now the fun stuff. Best Trail, #1172, Princess Di(arrhea) 50th haring; Worst Trail, #1185 Courtesy Flush and Occasional Rapist; Best Theme #1215 Bye-Bye Boobies, Clearly Not A Hooker and Baker’s Dozen’t; Biggest Wanker, Broke Bench Mountain; Stupidest Act on Trail was perpetrated by Cum You Will Not, she asked someone: Hi, I’m Cum You Will Not, are you a Virgin? He was NOT there to Hash with us!

Socializing and drinking to excess became the modus operandi for the remainder of the evening. Eventually the wait staff had become saturated with our presence and asked us to take the party elsewhere. Kudos to them for providing an excellent experience for us and for tolerating our rudeness as long as they did.

That’s pretty much wraps up our twenty-second year of existence and it appears we still have shelf life remaining. I feel capable of speaking for all the harriettes(the women should always come first) and harriers out there in thanking all our Mismanagers, hares and everyone else that made this another successful year for the mighty Surf City H3. On-on to our twenty-third year.

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 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.

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 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(again)

Little luck,

This morning I was sitting in an overrated cafe in a trendy-but-shabby section of town trying to log onto a painfully slow Internet connection. In desperation, I tried to log onto wifi at a nearby McDonald’s. Wait,WHAT? McDonald’s has wifi?!? I thought I may wish to get a headstart (who said ‘head’?) on this week’s Trash but thinking back on last week’s trail almost put me off my breakfast beer. The Fall leaves are falling on me which makes me feel even more dreary. Before I could decide whether I wanted something to eat or a second beer would suffice, a yuppie couple sat down beside me with their feisty young male Alsatian. He immediately begins eyeballing my OP’s as if they’ve become his favorite chew toy or resemble a piece of raw beefsteak. Dogs are in essence red-green color blind. My shorts are red and I fear it offends him. I finish my beer and admit I can no longer postpone tackling the Trash nor do I wish to utter the Bart Simpson line, Eat my shorts! because I fear the dog will do exactly that(with me still in them) so off I toddle.

Safely inside my abode, I being to reassemble last week’s trail. The start was nice enough, Jose Avenue Park. We were here not long ago and it’s a pleasant place from which to start. Sadly, what followed was NOT especially pleasant. Many people felt the spirit of the season and donned attire other than their normal rags. Others simply felt the spirit and had an extra beer.

With our GM’s in absentia, dBASED did the honors of misinforming Virgin Manny about trail markings. More than once he said, This mark is somewhat like the other one but it’s different. Had I have been Manny, I’d have walked away from hashing right then. Maybe we should add, Never listen to dBASED to our other directive, Never follow dBASED. Virgin Manny was overheard asking his sponsor, Just Lauren, Is everything tonight going to be that damned confusing? Just Lauren simply smiled.

Eventually the hares, all damned three of them, were convinced to give Instructions of Trail. They did but, 1) they were confusing and 2) they proved to be untrue. Hares-out.

The next fifteen minutes proved to be a jumble of contradictions. Both dBASED and Accuprick claimed to have put the hares on the clock but that’s where the agreement ended. Both specified different lengths of time that the hares had been gone. Eventually they compromised and called for Circleup for Introductions. Their request ended up with vocalizations from the following: Steamy Baanorrhea, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Wicked Retahted, Occasional Rapist, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Just Lauren, Virgin Manny, Fap Jack, Pink Cherry Licker, Jizziki, Just John, 2 Dicks Down, Just Danielle and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a depleted canine contingency at on-out consisting of only Junk Puncher. Pack away.

Trail led the litter north to Capitola Road. This also became the first stumbling block. Hounds headed in all directions and most of them were gone quite a while with no on-on being sounded. Eventually dBASED returned from the direction he’d chosen and Jose Avenue yielded a false so it left only Capitola Road towards Seventh Avenue as a possibility. We plodded along and eventually found some sparse piles of flour and this took the troops to a check at Seventh Avenue. Another error was made here but this one is the fault of the flock, not the hares.

Notorious FRB Steamy Baanorrhea took an on-right at the check but soon turned back stating there was nothing in the direction. Many of the pack took him at his word and returned to the check. Marker was found on Seventh towards the harbor and off this group went. Luckily for another segment of the pack, someone crossed Seventh to the other side and found trail towards Soquel Avenue. This group took off on true trail while those heading the other direction had to wait until they found false markings to know they’d not chosen wisely.

Both groups were now headed towards Soquel Avenue. This lasted until a (rare) hare arrow led the litter on-right onto Bostwick Lane. Bostwick passes Green Acres Elementary School and then we were pointed on-right on Paul Minnie Avenue. When Paul Minnie ends at Rodriguez Street, a solved check pointed us on-left and across Seventeenth Avenue followed by an on-right onto Chanticleer Avenue. Not far along, our favored BN mark was seen and we were led on-right and deep into the darkness of Chanticleer County Park.

Once our business here was concluded, on-in was undertaken. Most of you would think trail was down Chanticleer, on-right on Capitola Road and then on-right onto Jose Avenue to Cum You Will Not’s abode. However, the hares were not done jerking us around. True trail went on-right onto Sixteenth Avenue, on-left onto Webster Street and then on-left onto Jose Avenue. Only the biggest half-minds amongst us actually took this trail while most others did the aforementioned one. Eventually though, one and all ended up at Cum You Will Not’s.

Once reassembled, many hashers filled out tickets for a prize giveaway to be held based on how many of five questions pertaining to trail you could respond to in the affirmative. After that, Religious Adviser Accuprick cranked up his machine and staged Religion. Some of the results thereof are: backsliders were punished, Pink Cherry Licked rewarded for defending her class against a supposed shooter, birthday people were recognized, Danielle mocked for not having a box and those that swallowed a ‘clot shot’. Oh. The hares. They were thanked for the chili, the raffle and spooky movie that was to follow Religion but I heard no mention of trail. After dismissing the hares, the RA dismissed the pack. I hereby 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 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 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-16.

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 first 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

Try to keep abreast,

Of this Trash, it may move and bounce from one place to another.

As is frequently a Surf City hare’s ploy, we began from an upscale venue, Hindquarter. The purpose of this is to instill confidence in the pack that trail will be as exemplary as Point A. While this trail fell way the hell shy of that mark, it accomplished the hare’s goal of hoodwinking us.

Both the inside of the building as well as the breezeway were commandeered by the clan.

We had some backsliders return to the fold and a Virgin too. Sadly, on the downside we also had a large number of returning trouble-makers and the proverbial misfits. Well, things are never perfect for the Surf City H3, are they? At least Pat the beertender at Hindquarter was copacetic with our presence.

Hare-pair Clearly Not A Hooker and Baker’s Dozen’t waited until the majority of the mob moved outdoors to deliver Instructions of Trail. Not that it truly mattered though as most of the pack still indoors didn’t listen anyway. When compared to how trail actually played out, Instructions of Trail from these hares proved they’ve never made a promise they couldn’t break. Hares away.

The next fifteen minutes passed very quickly but not so much due to the fact we were enjoying ourselves as it was to our knowing what awaited us after the expiration thereof. And it came to pass that soon co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and their call was answered by Just Danielle, dBASED, Fap Jack, Pink Cherry Licker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Cum You Will Not, TIMMY!, Just John, Dung-Fu Grip, Jizziki, Courtesy Flush, Virgin Lauren and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency consisted of Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick, Swamp Rat, Scratch and Sniff. Merlissa was a co-hare. Pack out.

Marker made the merry members of madness cross Soquel Avenue to a check on the corner of Soquel and Riverside Avenue. An excessive amount of our lives was expended here before the on-on was finally sounded south on Riverside followed a block later by a hare arrow pointing the pod on-left on Broadway. Two blocks later an on-right took the troops on-down into Lower Ocean where even evil spirits like not to tread after darkness falls. Such a cruel move meant nothing to our hares though apparently. One long block later an on-left onto Barson Street was dictated.

Both sides of Barson can herald tragic events so no one dilly-dallied through here and followed the hare arrow across Ocean Street at a good clip as well. When Barson ended, we turned on-right and on-down Alley 938, yes, that’s it’s real name, and proceeded along it’s shadowy length past apartments in such dilapidated condition they may be uninhabited. The road, and I use that word in the loosest definition thereof, has more holes in it than low quality Swiss cheese. When we came to Lemos Avenue we were overjoyed to be back into the light and put a potentially dangerous situation behind us. Little did we know as to what awaited us though.

An on-left on Lemos took us to what is laughingly labeled the Jessie Street Marsh. This single-track terror winds it’s way behind hovels and piles of trash with not a trace of water to be seen. I do now know if the trash is left by unsavory characters or simply tossed over the fence from the houses. Only partway through this horrid place, a huge hare arrow led the litter on-left and on-up an illegal path into Oceanview Park.

This may well have been the highlight of trail. The ONLY one I might add. Here was Liquor Check and a handmade pinata in the shape of a pair of female mammary glands. The hares abandoned drinks to man the pinata explosion and left the Virgin in charge of playing mixologist.

Just John was able to burst the breasts with a mere two strokes of his long rod and prizes and treats ejaculated forth from them. Hashers groveled on the ground for the goodies. Sadly however, there was more trail to traverse and eventually the flock exited the park and crossed East Cliff Drive to undertake the on-up of a hill taking us to the pedestrian walkway on-down to the trestle over the San Lorenzo River and into the huge parking lot beside the Boardwalk. Following the arrow here(that old man TIMMY!! did not see) brought the bevy to Beach Street. Three blocks later, past a dark and lonely Boardwalk, it was on-right on Raymond Street past Beach Flats Park(site of a recent nighttime shooting) and on-left onto Leibrandt Avenue. We crossed (dangerous) Riverside Avenue and crossed over to Second Street. A block later we turned on-right onto Cliff Street and took it to, well, the top of the cliff! I wish to exit this area as soon as possible so the Eagles can hang here as long as they wish, I’m a Turkey tonight. We gobblers took the stairs on-down to the levee, arrived at Broadway(again) and were directed on-right over the river. The next on-right is Riverside Avenue(again) and deposited us at the abode of Clearly Not A Hooker.

Here we found all manner of vittles, many of which carried on with tonight’s theme of female breasts. I noticed some harriers spent considerable time licking the cupcakes before gently nibbling on the portion that protruded above the rounded surface. I wonder what fantasy was going through their perverted little half-minds at that time? Stimulating as this experience was, Religion called from afar so the time came for us to exit before arousing the neighbors. Not long before leaving, Jizziki arrived after having returned to the Hindquarter for a drink to tie him over before undertaking the on-in to Beer Check. We moved back onto Riverside and took up temporary residence in the (too) well illuminated parking lot of Riverside Lighting. Here co-Religious Advisers Pink Cherry Licker and Dung-Fu Grip fired up their Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: backsliders were punished, our harriette going under the knife next week to ‘reconfigure’ her chest area was recognized and those that staged a Gorilla Beer Check were brought to the altar. There was also some mention of the hares, specifically the parties in Oceanview Park and and Hooker’s home but I heard NO compliments about trail.

On-on-on was announced to be staged at Woodstock’s Pizza.

On an unrelated note, the site for AGM has been finalized, Vino by the Sea on the Wharf. If you attended Red Dress, you’ve been there at least once in your life.

Upon completing this announcement the RA’s dismissed the pack and I now do the same for you, faithful reader.

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 remains 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 motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-15.

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-fifth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Darkness fell,

This time, however, it was the color of the chalk (foolishly) chosen by our horrible hare Rubik’s Pube. We’ll get even with her(and her little dog) someday, sometime. My suggestion would be to blindfold her and make her hash trail that way next week. Then she’ll know how we felt at every intersection at which we arrived. Hounds were seen on hands and knees, flashlight in hand, desperately seeking an indication of which direction our hare had happily hopped. The hash cry, Checking! was now heard at intersections rather than at standard checks.

Enough of that though, let’s discuss more pleasant subject matter, such as starting from Santa Cruz Mountain Brewery.

This was a brilliant decision on the Pube’s part. Sadly, it was the ONLY wise decision made by her this evening. The pack confiscated the far end of the outdoor drinkin’ area feeling the farther from management we were the better it would be for both parties. Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose decided to sample the wares here for their first meal of the day. But not their first DRINK I bet. Everyone else was happy to stick with the local ales. Swamp Rat got an abandoned pretzel from a nearby table and found it hard chewing. Watching her dog choke down his dinner was what it took to get the Pube away from her glass and deliver Instructions of Trail. Her idea of Instructions of Trail is meant to be manipulative. Hare away.

Fifteen minutes was easily passed as Mountain Brewery has the ability to make beer quicker than even Surf City can drink it. Eventually though, zero hour arrived and co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and received responses from: Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Jersey Lunchbox, Occasional Rapist, dBASED, Cum You Will Not, 2 Dicks Down, Steamy Baanorrhea, Just John(past 5 hashes now), My Little Bony(yes, he’s baaack!) and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency was ably represented by Spot’d Dick, Scratch and Sniff and Junk Puncher with Swamp Rat as co-hare. Pack out.

Due to the fact trail was so difficult to follow and hounds were seen scurrying in all directions, I will approximate trail to the best of my inability.

It was on-left onto Ingalls Street and across Fair Avenue to stay on Ingalls. When Ingalls ends at Almar Avenue, a hare arrow pointed the pod across but then gave no indication as to whether an on-left or an on-right would be right. Eventually dark marks were discovered on-right on Almar followed by an on-left onto Pendegast Avenue. Pendegast comes to Surfside Avenue where searching for trail yielded an on-left followed by a quick on-right to remain on Pendegast. A check two blocks later yielded an on-right onto Walk Circle. Walk crashes into Naglee Avenue and dictates an on-left or on-right. Contrary to the direction FRB’s Jersey Lunchbox and Just John trotted, an on-left was correct. One block later we viewed the DGK mark and crossed wide Woodrow Avenue to remain on Walk.

Walk was taken until California Avenue where an on-right was dictated and taken all the way to Bay Street. Busy Bay was used until an on-right onto National Street was indicated. Thus began a long, boring stretch of concrete and asphalt. Finally, and I do mean FINALLY, an on-left onto Nevada Street was told and a few blocks later on-right onto Laguna Street. Laguna ends at Pelton Avenue but that meant nothing to this hare so we went directly across and into the darkened Lighthouse Field on a single track footpath. The only benefit to this adverse adventure was we stumbled across Liquor Check which, much to my chagrin, I must admit was cleverly stashed in a tree stump!

For the second consecutive week, Liquor Check consisted of airline-sized liquor bottles, this week with the addition of Hershey Kisses. The Pube probably took these from last week’s Liquor Check thereby saving herself considerable expense. After completing our business here, we continued to West Cliff Drive and on-right and soon came to Beer Check staged in one of the few remaining parking areas overlooking Monterey Bay. Sufficient time was spent here to make everyone happy and then it was on-in time.

We continued along West Cliff and made the on-right onto the Bethany Curve Walkway. When the Walkway ends at Delaware, it was on-left and soon we would see the highlight of this trail which of course no credit is deserved by our hare at all.

The decorations at a house on Delaware just prior to Almar are spectacular. This (almost) compensated for lousy trail.

We continued on Delaware and made an on-right onto Swift to make the scene at Religion on the railroad tracks. Once reassembled, Accuprick issued the following down-downs: backsliders were punished, Cum You Will Not for falling on trail and Broke Bench Mountain celebrated his 475th hash with us. Oh, I almost forgot the hare. Most Likely because I WANTED to forget her. Trail? Well, like I said the house on Delaware was superbly decorated for Hallowe’en. After that task was completed, Accuprick dismissed the pack and I also do so from 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 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 I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-14.

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 eighteenth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Clouds descend,

Over Santa Cruz as they did over the pack on the evening of October the sixth. The sky was blue and the clouds few as we approached New Bohemia Brewing on 41st Avenue. However, just prior to the meeting spot, the clouds obscured the sun and the cold wind came calling. We mistakenly construed this as typical of a local microclimate when in actuality is was most likely a sign from the gods of the Hash that treacherous tricks awaited the pack this night. Cruel tricks are part and parcel of a Cold Smegma Kamikaze trail though so we should have expected such. As for Just Danielle, her first hash was Sunday Wharf to Barf and she came to believe all hashes are like that one. She returns week after week in a foolish effort to regain that magic.

As an aside to this, a few tables away from the pack, Fleet Feet Sports was hosting a run. Considering the shoe display they brought it appeared to be as much of a sales event as an effort to get some people out to exercise. After the participants had left, dBASED walked over to introduce himself and to inquire as to the nature of the event. When he was told what was going on, he said he was here with his running club too. When they asked why the members were drinking, he responded the club drank before, during and after the run. They said that sounded more like a drinking club than a running club. dBASED said, Thank you! They then turned their backs on him and he returned to the fold. That was the extent of our interaction with Fleet Feet Sports.

Fashionably late, the hare-pair eventually delivered Instructions of Trail. Some vague references to a Liquor Check and Beer Check were made but one item of interest was repeated more than once: Trail is short. Even the Eagle trail was said to be only little longer than the Turkey. While ‘short’ would not be characteristic of a Cold Smegma Kamikaze trail, lying WOULD be the norm. Hares-out.

The following fifteen was spent swilling the last of our beers and settling our burgeoning bills. Upon completion of this unpleasant task, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested a Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: dBASED, TIMMY!!, Accuprick, Steamy Baanorrhea, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cum You Will Not, 2 Dicks Down, L’eggs, My Little Bony, Lock Nut Monster and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. For the canine crew we had Junk Puncher, Scratch and Sniff, Spot’d Dick and Merlissa. Pack-out.

Marker turned the troops on-left onto 41st Avenue followed by an on-right onto Portola. We passed Frenchy’s, birthplace of Piss ‘n Booths, and came to the promised Turkey/Eagle split at the intersection with 38th Avenue. It’s cold and windy, not to mention dark; let’s Turkey trot this night. Trail took the Turkeys on-right onto 38th. A short distance along the DGK mark pointed the pod across 38th. Here we erred. Believing the marker across the road pointed on-left onto Avis Lane, we trotted behind the strip mall housing such notable establishments as the Castaways and came back to Portola. We could see a check across the street at 36th Avenue so we crossed over. Marker was found on 36th heading towards the Bay but that culminated in a head-on collision with the approaching Eagles! Uh…

After some serious sniffing, it was determined we should have continued on 38th rather than on-left behind the strip mall. 38th was then utilized to Brommer Street, mercifully passing the accursed railroad tracks, and on-right there to 41st Avenue. We are now within sight of Point A, and it wasn’t even an especially scenic circle jerk either. Here a check was soon solved and led the litter across 41st and to an on-left. This brought the bunch to an on-right through a dark parking lot which proved to be merely a slight short-cut to Capitola Road. Once there it was on-right towards Capitola. An on-right was dictated at 47th Avenue followed by an on-left onto Garnet Street. Deep in the Jewel Box area of Capitola we now are. At 49th Avenue, it was on-left and all the way back to Capitola Road and on-right. Just another slightly less than scenic, and even more unnecessary, circle jerk. When we reached Wharf Road, things took a turn for the worse. We were pointed on-left past the Shadowbrook Restaurant.

We can lessen the pain endured here by fast forwarding to Rispin Mansion. On the path past the (still) uncompleted restoration, Liquor Check was encountered.

After this it was over Soquel Creek and on-right through Peery Park and exit onto Riverview Drive and then on-right onto Riverview Avenue. (They dearly love their riverviews around here) Part way along this street, the Soquel Creek Park Pathway begins with an on-right. This will eventually bring you to Stockton Avenue where an on-right will take you over Soquel Creek which is more lagoon than stream. Next was to begin the steep on-up of Wharf Road(again). Not wishing to cross trail as they soon would, the hare-pair utilized the rickety stairs that on-up to the train tracks and then crept along the dirt path balanced precariously on the side of the hill between million dollar homes and the railroad tracks. Quite a juxtaposition.

Just as we emerged from the darkened path and approached Prospect Avenue, our highly sought-after BN mark was observed. In the viewing area overlooking Capitola and Monterey Bay, we discovered the hare-pair partying.

Most hounds clocked trail length around the four mile mark, some slightly less and a few just over. Four miles was determined NOT to be a short trail as promised by the hares. Considering the numerous crimes committed on this trail, that may not have been the most egregious though. Mercifully, it was but a short hike to the site for Religion in Jade Street Park. We were not alone there though, besides the occasional passing black-and-white, some people were playing soccer in a nearby field.

Once the accoutrements had been assembled, RA Accuprick fired up his torture machine and here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: backsliders were first and foremost and consumed most of the time, no major crimes of trail were recounted which allowed extra time for vitriol to be tossed at the hare-pair. After seeing the hares again, a disgusted Accuprick dismissed the pack.

On-in was a traipse along Nova Dive to 41st Avenue. We missed last call at Betty’s Burgers so the remnants of the pack crossed 41st Avenue and poured into Taqueria Vallarta. That puts the finishing touches on Trail Twelve-13 and on 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 I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-13.

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 twelfth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Life’s a beach!

That old play on words failed us on the last Thursday in September 2022. This shift from fun to fucked is laid directly on the pointed little heads belonging to the hare-pair of dBASED and Clearly Not A Hooker. Admittedly, it’s an accepted truism that dBASED will bring the pack to no good and must simply be accepted as the cross Surf City must carry. However, due to our short memories and innate kindness, we continue allowing him to hare. As for his partner-in-slime, Clearly Not a Hooker, she’s a well-known traveler across Northern California to attend other hashes. It is now apparent that she cataloged the vilest tricks she learned at these events and mixed them together to use against us on this trail. That sets the table for Hash Twelve-12. It also is a recipe for disaster.

We began the assembly process on the railroad tracks at the intersection of Coronado Street and Park Avenue in Capitola where we’ve been many times before. And we still don’t like it. On one side it’s open to stiff winds coming off Monterey Bay and on the other in plain sight of all vehicles passing by. Cold breezes and cold stares, two items that do not sit well with us. This week’s theme was Dress like a Hooker as it was (Clearly Not A) Hooker’s celebration of her hatching day. (She must be over 30 as she declined to say how many trips around the sun she has completed) Hash Flash will chronicle how Surf City hashers define the word ‘hooker’. In keeping with the town motto ‘Keep Santa Cruz Weird’, you will see some rather intriguing attire.

Not disgustingly late, the hare-pair delivered Instructions of Trail. It’s always disconcerting when these details differ from those on their Trail Announcement on our website. Changes are unsettling and leads one to believe their plans for trail are disjointed. Hares-out.

The next fifteen minutes of our lives were spent conversing, drinkin’ and keeping Junk Puncher and Odin from erupting into full-on fighting mode. Junk Puncher seemed to take exception to new-on-the-scene Odin’s garnering so much attention. Eventually zero hour arrived and co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following: Occasional Rapist, Steamy Baanorrhea, Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, STD(the harrier with dozens of names), Just John, Jersey Lunchbox, Just Danielle, My Little Bony and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency has swollen by one and was represented by: Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick, Swamp Rat, Scratch and Sniff and Odin. Pack away.

Trail proceeded down the treacherous hill to the parking lot for New Brighton State Beach and on-right and on-down onto the beach. I do not need to remind anyone how much we dislike motivating along the sand. Even if this was your first time, maybe Just Danielle or Just John, I’m certain they have now developed the same dislike for sand as have any of the more experienced hounds. With that in mind, let us fast forward to the area just past Potbelly Beach where the promised Turkey/Eagle split was viewed. The Turkeys will on-up to a large open field while the Eagles will continue along the sand pit. It’s too beautiful to resist, let’s continue getting sand in our shoes with the Eagles.

This trek continued for almost a mile until an arrow pointed the pod on-left and on-up the trail to Beachgate Way. After recuperating from the climb, it was forward on Beachgate Way, on-left onto Seacliff Drive, on-right onto Coates Drive, on-left onto Hill Crest Drive and finally an on-right onto Mar Vista Drive. This would bring the tired troops to the accursed railroad tracks and a check. Steamy continued along Mar Vista bur soon returned from false markings. Jersey Lunchbox inspected Poplar Street to no avail. Eventually, more by the process of elimination than good detective work, trail was stumbled across on Cedar Street. This led the litter to an on-right onto Oakdale Drive followed by an on-right onto Poplar Street. This has pointed the pride back towards the check, I smell skullduggery in our immediate future.

Ah, yes. I see our destination just ahead on-left. Not far along Poplar Street, marker turned the merry members of this madness on-left and on-down a steep hill and onto the accursed railroad tracks. In retrospect, it was basically the only way home. The tracks were taken until a check at the same field that was used by the Turkeys. The correct route, contrary to the direction FRB’s Jersey Lunchbox and Just John took, was on-right and through a small patch of woods and then they would have observed the LC sign. Contained there was some chocolate-tasting substance.

After concluding our business here, it was back on trail through a (now) darkened field and eventually to New Brighton Road and upon viewing the BN mark, on-left and into Beer Check. While this may sound all well and good, sadly this did not spell the end of trail as is usually our custom of late. Tragically, this signaled the beginning of what was arguably the most e-vile section of trail. Rather than taking the backdoor into New Brighton State Beach campground where we already were, it became an almost half a mile traipsing of the train tracks to Oak Trail which led on-up into the campground. Still not done jerking the gaggle around, the hares had the unmitigated audacity to place a check on the on-up into the campground. Unheard of in Surf City history, a check on an on-in! And even then they were not finished screwing the school. They utilized the most inefficient route possible to get the gang to space 42, the site for Religion.

Once there, everyone grabbed a beer and a bite and settled in for another edition of Accuprick’s Fun House of Religion. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: those dressed as hookers were honored/mocked(you make the call), auto-hashers were punished, short-cutters were appropriately punished, those donned in fishnet stockings, those (barely) covering their nether region with a thong. Yes, the hares were taken to task too. It was unanimous the scenery was spectacular, too bad the trail to get us there was subpar. With that encounter, the RA dismissed the pack and the face-feed began. I hereby dismiss you from the Hash 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 get 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 I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-12.

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 fourth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe