Welcome,

To Abbott Square where a tri-power group of hares will give an alternative meaning to the word ‘square’. While trail itself proved to be circular, more or less, the persons laying said trail lacked even a modicum of the social graces. Allow me to illustrate.

Pleasantries were exchanged at Abbott Square while awaiting the arrival of all three hares. Apparently they did not begin their pre-lay early enough. Sadly, this was but the first of a number of miscalculations on their part. Eventually though all the hares appeared and immediately put their little pointed heads together to put the final touches on their trail.

After conferring for a number of minutes, they concluded it was far too late in the game to salvage even a mediocre trail so they went with what they had. More than a little sweat was evident when the hares delivered an unconvincing Instructions of Trail. They hopped off.

By virtue of the fact few people listened to their dreary soliloquy, no one took note of the direction in which they departed. This would plague us in the future. After the fifteen minute lead time, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Cum You Will Not, Wicked Retahted, Baker’s Dozen’t, Leaky Rubber, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Accuprick, Steamy Baanorrhea, Just Kamryn, Womb With A View, My Sister’s Dildo, Hugh Heifer, L’eggs, Virgin Ginger, Virgin Monroney, Virgin Mike, Ska-Skank Redemption, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Snake Me Anywhere and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Boulder, Junk Puncher and Spott’d Dick represented the four-legged hound entourage.

We proceeded to the corner of Cooper Street and Pacific Avenue where we would take up residence for an extended period.

A whistle was heard far up Pacific so off the pack went but upon arriving at the top of the Mall, no marker was to be found. Then whistle was again heard but this time from Plaza Lane. The pack went back down Pacific and finally did see the reason for all that whistling. Marker was found and took the troops to Cedar Street where and on-right was indicated bringing us to the intersection with Center and Chestnut streets. Here was another: Which way did they go, which way did they go? moment. Hounds were sent scurrying a number of directions until one sounded a whistle down Chestnut Street. This street, incidentally, takes one past what must be the most bizarrely named street in Santa Cruz: Squid Row. After over four and a half decades here, I’ve yet to encounter a member of the cephalopod family on this bleak street. Somewhere along here reputedly was a Turkey/Eagle split. While I did not personally see such, I do remember seeing Dung-Fu Grip take off on-right on-up the Green Street hill and not return. I hope he enjoyed his visit.

The majority of the pack continued along Chestnut Street until it junctions with Chestnut Street Extension and Rincon Street. Here, between speeding cars, we were directed to cross Chestnut and take the locals-only walkway on-up to the continuation of Locust Street and on-right when it ends at Mission Street. This would bring us to the massive intersection with King and Union streets. This would have been an acceptable location for Beer Check as it takes so damn long for the pedestrian signal to illuminate.

Once across Mission, we were treated to a repeat performance in an attempt to cross King Street. After completing this dreary task we hoofed it to Highland Avenue where we were again coerced into placing our lives into the hands of car drivers as we crossed. Once safely across, we were directed on-left and on-up to High Street where an on-right was indicated. The pedestrian over-crossing was used and then an on-left down the locals-only path leading to Potrero Street and not far on-down Potrero we stumbled over Rubik’s Pube manning Liquor Check. It was Cinco de Mayo so tequila was one of the options.

After concluding our business here, it was on-down to River Street and across to the River Street Shopping Plaza, across the huge parking lot, on-up to the top of the levee, on-left there and across the pedestrian bridge over the river. Once across, we undertook the boring task of traversing the entire length of the levee to Water Street with the exception of the last hundred yards where we were directed to on-down into the parking lot for the county jail, AKA the Hound Pound. After successfully tip-toeing through the parking lot, it was on-left at Water Street and on-right at the intersection with Ocean Street. Then we were pointed on-right through the parking lot of the hideously ugly County building and on-left into San Lorenzo Park. We exited the park to Dakota Street and on-right to cross Soquel Avenue and across Broadway and soon into the backyard of Clearly Not A Hooker’s home.

There was food all over the place and a great amount of time was spent here trying to make it all disappear. Eventually though we moseyed to the top floor of the parking garage on River Street where Accuprick fired-up his RA machine. Here’s a partial listing of down-downs dispensed: Pink Cherry Licker and L’eggs crooned a new tune for us about underwear, Underwhere? was punished for not knowing a song that pertains to him, Short-cutters were busted, Hugh Heifer was congratulated on getting a new job, Ska-Skank Redemption was congratulated for going to Trinidad for InterHash…even though it was cancelled(!), those who’s dogs pooped on trail. Lastly, the hares were punished. That brought an end to this Hash and that brings an end to 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.

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 ninth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Our hare,

Today Is Monday, a consummate FHACU’er, was seen leaving Santa Cruz at a high rate of speed immediately following Hash 1186. That is a concise description of his opinion of the trail he laid for us which, if I may be so bold, is vastly superior to the opinion WE hold pertaining to his trail.

If you still wish to continue with the rehash of this hash, there may be something wrong with you. While drinking a beer while reading it will not cure you, it will most certainly improve your outlook.

The hare, accompanied by Yellow Prick Load, chose Urbani’s Cellar for prelube. Sadly, they were the only ones that did so. The remainder of the flock flew to Shanty Shack, Shabby Shack in hash parlance, and embarrassed themselves there. After washing enough glasses to settle their beer tab, one and all reassembled at the picnic area of Harvey West Park conveniently located beside a cemetery. And yes, you’re correct, we were here a mere three weeks prior. This is an excellent example of hare slothfulness, TIM will incorporate part of THAT trail into HIS trail.

We had a number of backsliders, e.g., Rubik’s Pube and Underwhere?, making rare guest appearances. Underwhere? brought a Virgin so we know what HE’S been up to the past few months.

After the level of socializing calmed to a dull roar, Today Is Monday mounted a picnic table and related Instructions of Trail. Sadly, there a few relatively important aspects he neglected to mention such as the Danger Cans might be taken prior to the arrival of the majority of the pack or staged in a patch of poison oak. These were details our hare deemed unnecessary.

After divesting ourselves of our hare, Dung-Fu Grip administered the Chalk Talk to Virgin Meg. She appeared to listen intently but I also took note of the fact that she was also drinking heavily at the time. Upon completion of that task, co-GM Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and received responses from the following: Clearly Not A Hooker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Yellow Prick Load, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Pee Skool, Cum You Will Not, dBASED, Underwhere?, Banana Basher, My Little Bony, Accuprick, Virgin Meg, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Dung-Fu Grip, Rubik’s Pube, Whackoff Smirnoff, L’eggs and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged hounds was Junk Puncher, Spott’d Dick and Boulder. There’s our list of participants for this week. Let’s go see what they get up to.

There was confusion at the very start. A check atop a mound of dirt just outside Wagner Grove had hounds scurrying in all directions. It appears dBASED went on-up through Wagner Grave but found nothing, supposedly, and came back which sent everyone everywhere. More on this screw-up later. We did, sadly, find a dead black cat which Hooker promptly recommended TIMMY!! attach to the Hashit. This offer was adamantly refused. More on THIS later as well. Eventually, being firmly committed to trail proceeding through Wagner Grove, a more thorough inspection discovered flour and the pack was off.

Wagner Grove Trail ejected us onto Meadow Court which almost immediately morphs in Meadow Road which was taken to Spring Street where an on-right was indicated beginning a rather boring and definitely steep on-up to Pogonip. Once into Pogonip, the domain of the catamount, trail turned on-right onto Spring Trail. This began another boring but scenic stretch terminated by an on-right onto Lookout Trail. One would think Lookout Trail was so named due to the stellar views. This proved a misconception. The name of this trail should actually Look Out! Once through the field area, rocks and tree roots abound, each with thoughts of tripping the unwary amongst us. Poison oak, cleverly concealing itself within ivy and holly, lines both side of this supposedly scenic trail. As if that is not sufficient danger for a negligent hound, Danger Can was carelessly tossed into a patch of poison oak.

Lookout Trail winds on-down towards Harvey West Park but upon meeting up with Harvey West Trail, makes an abrupt on-left and heads on-down under the cover of Redwoods and ends at Pogonip Creek Nature Loop Trail. This trail brought the gang to Golf Club Drive where and on-right pointed us back toward civilization. A steep on-up onto the tracks and an on-right pointed the pod home. At Pioneer Street we were redirected to where the hare sat dispensing some hard liquor for those intrigued enough to try it. Munchies were also kindly provided. As if a Danger Can and Liquor Check were not sufficient, the pack then adjourned to Shanty Shack (the second time for many of us) for the Beer Check. The area was confiscated for our purposes and staff kept a sharp eye on us for the duration of our visit. After completing our business, the meeting was adjourned and reconvened back in Harvey West Park.

Once the DFL’s straggled in, Accuprick assumed the role of Religious Adviser and started rattling off a number of down-downs. Here’s a sampling: backsliders were punished; the hare was punished for not producing the FHAC-U invasion he promised; the Virgin was welcomed; the Hashit was awarded and the hare was sent packing. Due to the lateness of the hour, on-on-on was a no-show. This was when the RA declared an end to the Hash and I 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.

The sole purpose of a Scribe 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 fourth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Welcome,

To the tale of a failed trail. You will not be able to finish even one beer before this Trash has ended. That is NOT due to the fact that this trail (and by extension, it’s hare) is not deserving of all the verbal abuse I can heap upon him but rather due to the fact this trail (and by extension, it’s hare) is so amazingly undeserving of that much of my time. Or of the time it would take you to read it.

Everyone was properly attired in foul weather gear as rain was predicted. When this Hash was completed, we’d experienced no foul weather but trail DID manage to put everyone in a foul MOOD. Let’s delve into the reasons for this.

Many hounds showed up at campsite sixty where Courtesy Flush had ensconced himself. They were then reminded the start was from the laughably named amphitheater. Back they went. Once every fool that intended to attempt this trail was present, Courtesy Flush distributed MAPS of his trail! I say ‘his’ trail but what I meant was a trail kindly provided by the California State Park System which is of course funded by you and I so it was actually the PACK that came up with this trail and Courtesy Flush merely absconded with it. He then mounted a picnic table and explained what he believed we should know and that all he really wanted was for no one to get lost. This is double-speak for ‘I do not want to have to come looking for you’. Well, by virtue of the fact everyone had a damn map, the chances of even persons as half-minded as ourselves becoming directionally-challenged were miniscule.

The chatter during the hares’ requested lead time of a mere five minutes was relegated to staring at maps and asking, Where are we on this map? After we believed we’d located our current location, acting GM Pink Cherry Licker called for Circleup for Introductions which was actually a euphemism for: Let’s get this damn thing over with! Here’s a list of the foolish fools that answered her call: Clearly Not A Hooker, dBASED, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, Pee Skool, Hareless, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Steamy Baanorrhea, L’eggs, Dung-Fu Grip(carrying some of the Beer Check beer!) and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Junk Puncher and Spott’d Dick were skulking around the periphery attempting to avoid Ranger Danger.

As I anticipate a rather lackluster trail, Hash Flash chooses to enjoy the stellar scenery and will opt for the Eagle trail this evening. Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip and myself wave good-bye to dBASED as he chooses the incorrect trail right from the start. We three took off on Pine Trail which curves back by the entrance kiosk and parallels Graham Hill road for a while before curving on-left and into some heavy chaparral. Pine Trail eventually junctions with Eagle Creek Trail and, appropriately enough, the Eagles veered on-left onto Eagle Creek Trail.

Trail has been relatively uneventful this far, a few ups and a few downs. Now that we’ve begun to gain some elevation, the trail has become sand. I’ve always found it disconcerting to be high on a wooded mountain and find sand beneath my rear paws. Eventually we left the chaparral aft and headed on-down under the Redwood canopy. Trail has begun to incline steeply on-down, dancing over redwood roots and is getting slick. A definite recipe for disaster. I saw many an elongated foot print on some of the downhill sections. Soon Eagle Creek Trail junctions with River Trail and Pipeline Road beside a small stream and the very bottom of the park. Pipeline is actually a paved surface and we so went on-left. This began a series of most unpleasant on-ups of a serious nature. Fallen trees litter the roadside, probably pulled to the ground by gravity considering how steep the hillsides are here. I, too, almost fell victim to that irresistible force a number of times before attaining the crest.

Soon Pipeline Trail met with Ridge Fire Road and that on-left was made but, sadly, the climbing did not cease. Soon trail was to emerge from beneath the Redwood canopy and back into the desolation of a vast chaparral field. Trail continued it’s meandering trek, much of which was in a deep trench of sand, until nearing the top and the observation deck came into view. From a hundred yards away the cacophony of Beer Check was discernible.

The view was spectacular but I believe there are easier ways to arrive where it can be seen. Upon deletion of as much beer as we felt advisable prior to undertaking the trek on-down off the mountain, the pack reassembled for a leisurely stroll on-in.

Religion was moved from the amphitheater, a good idea, to campsite sixty, the home of Courtesy Flush et. al. With Accuprick absent, Dung-Fu Grip and Pink Cherry Licker assembled their altar and began issuing down-downs. Here’s a sampling of the transgressions: Those that attended last Saturday’s Hash Bash Hash Bash; dBASED and TIMMY!! who opted for an incorrect trail; Occasional Rapist for being an accomplice hare; TIMMY!! for being an unintentional FRB, Jim(from observation deck) attending with wife Marion; TIMMY!! was awarded the Hashit for his FRB ways. Oh, yeah. The RA’s DID bring the hares up but little mention was made of trail itself. That brought an end to this Hash as it does this Trash. The healing process began as marshmallows were burned and incredible amounts of chocolate, in various incarnations, was devoured. The party lasted well past the time allowed by campground rules. The party will ALWAYS do so, too.

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.

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 twenty-sixth day of April in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Happy Birthday to Rat Pussy,

That’s the only praise he will receive in this Trash. While you may believe that harsh for our Birthday Boy, this Trash will elaborate on the multitude of reasons he is a bad person and deserving of all the insults I can heap upon him.

Rat Pussy’s obvious ploy was to lull the litter into a sense of security and complacency by beginning this week’s trail from his (current) place of employment, Steel Bonnet Brewing Company in Scotts Valley. He further tried to fool us by mentioning that even though it was his birthday, duty to his company dictate he worked that day and still lay trail for us in the evening. This was intended to make us envious of his sense of dedication. Our mistake was arriving at this judgement prior to hashing his trail. We should have taken the absence of the hot dog truck as evidence the night would not progress as we anticipated. The hot dog vendor said they would not be present due to the rain. As you know, it rained very little and not even that for many hours. These people suspected Rat Pussy’s trail would go cattywampus and did not want to be associated with it.

The outdoor drinkin’ area at Steel Bonnet was filled by the flock almost to the complete exclusion of mortals. Most of them took one look out the back door and decided the inside of the building would serve their needs far better than having to deal with us.

Dishonorable Mention should be given to L’eggs who covered herself in full-on bunny attire and instructed her Virgin to do the same. I do not remember any mention of an Easter theme in the hare’s trail announcement. The RA will deal with L’eggs during Religion I feel certain.

After quaffing a commendable quantity of Steel Bonnet’s excellent ales, the hares delivered a disjointed set of Instructions of Trail. A number of hounds actually listened but mainly to accumulate charges against the hare-pair for use during Religion. Shall we say they were not disappointed either. There was a warning not to cross Scotts Valley Drive without the benefit of a designated crosswalk area. After hares-out, socializing was renewed, everyone wishes to put aside our impending tragedy. Upon the passage of the fifteen minute lead time, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for a Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following hounds: Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED, Occasional Rapist, Leaky Rubber, Baker’s Dozen’t, Ska-Skank Redemption, Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cum You Will Not, L’eggs(in bunny attire), Accuprick, Hugh Heifer, Virgin Ashley(in Alice in Wonderland outfit), Pee Skool, Pink Cherry Licker, Courtesy Flush and Puff the Magic Drag Queen plus our four-legged hounds, Boulder, Spott’d Dick and Junk Puncher. There’s this week’s cast of characters, and I DO mean characters. Action!

Apparently, there were a number of trail options this evening. I will briefly recap the one I chose.

Trail proceeded to Scotts Valley Drive and a check. dBASED, stating he’d seen the hares cross over, did the same. He would soon fade into the distance and become an unintentional FRB. True trail proceeded on-left one block to another check at Butler Lane. It was on-left onto Butler, on-right onto Victor Square when Butler ends and this eventually brought us back to Scotts Valley Drive. This hare-pair is of the opinion it’s never too early on trail for a circle-jerk. Across the street there was a whichy-way. The correct direction was on-left towards town. This was NOT the direction chosen by dBASAED. Somewhat farther along a sharp-eyed Accuprick noticed a hare arrow across the expanse of Scotts Valley Drive. This would send us onto El Pueblo Drive. El Pueblo Drive is a rather boring stretch of asphalt which, upon reflection, was basically the theme of this entire trail. Eventually an on-right onto Carbonero Way was indicated soon to be followed by the LC mark.

Whatever was in the unmarked bottle at Liquor Check, it was sweet and potent.

Staggering away from Liquor Check, the pack arrived at Scotts Valley Drive…again, and were pointed across(with benefit of a crosswalk) and then turned on-right. At Willis Road, a hare arrow, which would become invisible in the soon-to-fall darkness, turned the troops on-left and one block later we were pointed on-right onto Grace Way. Grace Way performs a mild but nonetheless perturbing on-up. Thankfully, there was purpose to this, Beer Check was located part way on-up the hill.

Upon the completion of our duty here, on-in was on-up Grace Way, on-right on Hacienda Drive to Scotts Valley Drive(yet again) and on-right to Religion. Once safely in residence at our usual gathering spot, Dung-Fu Grip assumed the reins as RA and gave Accuprick a break. Here’s a partial listing of the down-downs issued: dBASED for unintended but nonetheless massive short-cutting; Pink Cherry Licker, Cumz Out My Nose, Pee Skool and Courtesy Flush for avoiding trail though Courtesy Flush did manage to catch the pack at Beer Check(of course!); Baker’s Dozen’t convicted of chivalry on trail for throwing chalk all the way across Scotts Valley Drive to Leaky Rubber and Leaky Rubber for not HAVING chalk in the first place; dBASED for wildly and haphazardly swinging the Hashit along trail like it was a scythe; L’eggs and Virgin Ashley crooned a tune they conceived along trail; Virgin Ashley was welcomed to the Hash; L’eggs honored for completing her 25th hash with us; L’eggs was awarded the Hashit for having her Virgin dress in costume for a hash that HAD no theme. Oh, yeah. The RA also dragged the hare-pair to the altar to sacrifice them to an unsatisfied pack. Deservedly so, I might add. After dispensing with the hares, the RA declared and end to Hash 1184 and I hereby do the same for the Trash that has chronicled it.

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.

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 nineteenth day of April in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

One hundred harings,

This is where Dung-Fu Grip has dragged us behind him and frequently begging for mercy. From high school history, many of you may remember The Hundred Years War between the French and British and Napoleon’s Hundred Days. Neither of these were especially audacious occurrences and we must now group Dung-Fu Grip’s Hundred Harings into this group of infamous events.

As many of you will remember, Dung-Fu was passing through Santa Cruz 9 years ago and his visit serendipitously(for him, not us) coincided with Red Dress. He never left. It appears we are stuck with him. He played co-GM through COVID restrictions. While you may believe that to have been challenging, remember that for over a year we had no in-person hashes. He was lauded for hand-holding us through those trying times when in actuality he had to do less than a REAL GM. And now we have been subjected to One Hundred Harings. Oh, I almost forgot, he now has the audacity to claim he’s been shorted in the Hash Count and has actually led the litter a hundred and ONE times. I assure you there’s more than ONE of his trails I’d prefer to forget. The factors that influence the parameters of a Dung-Fu trail are complex, dynamic and, sadly, perverse. The random volatility of his unwise actions has climaxed in a number of injuries, mercifully none serious, over the years. Many of these injuries were of a psychological nature and endure to this day. But enough of his past glories, let’s rehash Hash 1183.

We began this outing from Wagner Grove in Harvey West Park. Wagner Grove, as most of you know, was closed by the City years ago for fire safety reasons. So, what better place to start a Hash than from a closed park. The only drawback here, other than the illegality involved, is stand-in Beermeisters Pink Cherry Licker and Fap Jack were too damn lazy to cart the beer here so the start was moved to a more easily accessible spot but nonetheless still illegal. Then a pizza was delivered.

Once the libation situation was settled socializing took center stage and would remain so even during Instructions of Trail delivered from on high(or is that WHILE high?) owing to the fact they are seldom ever true, let alone be informative in the slightest. Once the hare was dispensed with, pack socializing returned to it’s normal dull roar. While awaiting on-out, co-GM Broke Bench Mountain gave the Chalk Talk to Virgin Jenna…on the leftover pizza box! Having no chalk(how can a GM not have chalk?) a few rude etchings were scratched into the pizza box lid and Broke Bench finished by telling Jenna to stay close to someone. Sadly, she chose Bestiality Interruptus to attach herself to this night and we all know how challenged HE can become with trail.

After the passage of the requisite fifteen minute lead time, something no one believes Dung-Fu truly needs, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circelup for Introductions and heard from the following fools: TIMMY!!, Banana Basher, Virgin Jenna, Butt Balls, Little Anal Annie, Steamy Baanorrhea, Occasional Rapist, dBASED, Cum You Will Not, Chippin’ Ballz, Baker’s Dozen’t, Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Bestiality Interruptus, International House of Pussy, Driponya, Clearly Not A Hooker, Pink Cherry Licker, Fap Jack, Snake Me Anywhere and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. I should not fail to mention our four-legged hounds: Boulder, Spott’d Dick, Farley, Posey, Pokey, Wobbles and Junk Puncher. The soldiers are on the field, let the war begin.

As we’d seen the hare exit the scene via Wagner Grove, we opted to do the same. As most of you know, storms a few years ago have rendered the trail on-up from Wagner Grove treacherous at best and downright dangerous at worst.

Partway on-up, the Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. It appears the Eagles are headed into Pogonip. Scribe ain’t goin’ into Pogonip as dark approaches, he will Turkey trot tonight. Turkey’s continued on-up Wagner Grove Trail to Meadow Court which soon morphs into Meadow Road. Meadow terminates at Spring Street where an on-left was indicated giving us a pleasant but short-lived on-down followed by an on-right onto Quarry Lane. This scenic tour of the Upper Westside and it’s multi-million dollar abodes was followed by an on-left onto Quarry Court which ends at a locals-only pedestrian path that dumped us out on Limestone Lane.

Limestone Lane is a quaint little street that smacks of domesticity and family values. The Hash shattered this placid environment as we hooped and hollered down the street tossing flour, chalk and drinking from beer cans. Traipse along Limestone far enough and a shaded, unused dirt track on-right will allow you the opportunity to trespass onto private property, desecrate church grounds and illegally enter an abandoned quarry via a conveniently cut fence. What an occasion! Once surrounded by homes, the steep walls of the quarry and a semi-intact fence, Beer Check was staged.

Our hare, knowing most hounds hated trail, provided a multitude of libations and various and sundry goodies for our dining enjoyment. While appreciated, it did little to remove the pain of trail. Hounds straggled out a various intervals, exiting via the pre-cut hole in the fence and back onto church grounds. A short driveway led the litter to High Street where the promised second Turkey/Eagle split was observed. As we are safely past Pogonip, Scribe will fly with the Eagles this time.

An on-right onto High Street was made followed by an on-left onto Cardiff Place. Just prior to a 7-11, we were pointed on-left, through a gate and into an apartment complex. Dung-Fu also laid trail through here last year, he must have a propensity for frightening little children. This will eventually bring you to Bradley Drive where a check was encountered at the intersection with Majors Street. We took an on-right onto Majors and took this dismally long stretch to Laurent Street and were pointed on-left. This, too, is an abysmally dreary section of asphalt with one notable exception. Laurel Creek, which the City has seen fit to hide for much of it’s trek on-down to Neary Lagoon, is visible at one very attractive locale on Laurent Street.

We can now fast forward along Laurent Street across High Street to Highland Avenue. Along Highland the two clans would merge and continue traipsing along in what is now complete darkness. Just prior to where Highland becomes steep, pitch black and dangerous, a conveniently located locals-only walkway bypasses that terror and brings us to the intersection with High Street. Our course is clear, it’s down to the walkway beside Highway 1 and back to Harvey West. And it was so done, albeit with a brief diversion through Evergreen Cemetery.

Once reassembled, RA Accuprick fired up his machine and delivered a number of down-downs and here’s a sampling: Non-runners were punished; the Hashit and it’s guardian, Clearly Not A Hooker, were brought up; backslider Bestiality Interruptus was punished; Virgin Jenna was welcomed; owners whose dog pooped on trail; Cum You Will Not for Spott’d Dick licking the food container at Beer Check, we grieved for TIMMY!! whose truck was totaled by a passing garbage truck; Analversaries, IHOP at 50 trails, Broke Bench Mountain at 450 trails and Dung-Fu Grip at 100 harings, were celebrated; Broke Bench Mountain who became lost on trail; Baker’s Dozen’t was thanked for saving Cold Smegma Kamikaze from going the wrong way on trail; lastly, dBASED was awarded the Hashit for making a false accusation.

That put a lid on this Hash and Accuprick declared, This Hash is over! And so is 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.

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 thirteenth day of April in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Greetings,

Welcome to Lampshade 2022. The sun was out and it was warm. The only detractors this year was having Occasional Rapist, Cum You Will Not and dBASED as our tri-powered hare team. I assume the reasoning is that if you’re stupid enough to been seen wearing a lampshade on your head in the town in which you reside, there’s no reason you should not allow the most treacherous trio of hares you could possibly think up to lead you around. And so we did.

Beginning from the traditional location of the Hindquarter affords us the opportunity of having the class photo snapped directly across the street at Riverside Lighting. Incidentally, this venue also provides notorious lushes, such as Surf City Senile Senior Citizen TIMMY!!, with an opportunity to break more martini glasses and Pink Cherry Licker to inhale more pink foo-foo drinks. But enough of them, while a hilarious diversion, it is not our main purpose here today. Our main thrust, at least in public, will be the donning of lampshades as chapeaus and prancing around Santa Cruz as if this was our normal attire.

The action moved from the bar area where, incidentally, we saw old harriette Banana Slut. She said no way would she plant a lampshade on her head and went back to her drinking alone. The herd migrated to the patio area and planted the flag of Hashdom for all to see. There were two patrons who stopped in after their dinner to ask what was going on. While they accepted our answer, they indicated they would not be joining us.

Other than this one encounter with mortals, prelube went amazingly well and waitstaff was wise(frightened?) enough to let us be, at least for the most part. Pat the beertender kept a close eye on us hoping he did not have to chase anyone to get the multitude of bar tabs paid. Assuming we will be allowed back in next year, no one attempted the proverbial dine-and-dash tactic. Instructions of Trail were attempted only slightly after the advertised time. Conceptually, they appeared to relate valuable pieces of information. However, once on trail I realized they were a huge misrepresentation of the actual trail. The flock then flew across Soquel Avenue(paying zero attention to oncoming traffic) for the annual class photo at Riverside Lighting.

After photographic proof of our foolish nature was recorded, and no surprise here, the pack, minus the hare-trio, returned to the bar. Waitstaff had been informed we would return, much to their dismay, and our drinks had been allowed to await our return. After our glasses had been emptied, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose(cradling new puppy Boulder) and Broke Bench Mountain(cradling new wife Cumz Out My Nose) called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following hounds: Bacon Queef, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Baker’s Dozen’t, Wicked Retahted, Leaky Rubber, My Best Friend’s Cock, Just Foot Pussy, Pretty Fly For A Pi Guy, Steamy Baanorrhea, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Accuprick, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch, Driponya, L’eggs, Virgin(?) Caty and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. The actors have assumed their positions, let the game begin.

There was mass confusion immediately. No one had the intelligence to observe the direction the hares outed so hounds hot-footed in all directions and seemingly all to no avail. Hounds went onto the river levee, down Riverside Avenue and onto the bridge over the river. They all returned empty handed. Or should that be empty headed? Whatever. Eventually on-on was given along Dakota Street to on-left into San Lorenzo Park and take the pathway on-right over the pond and exit back out onto Dakota Street. Try as we did, we were unable to fathom the reasoning for such a pointless circle jerk so early on trail. Then again considering who the hares were…

Dakota brought the gang to Ocean Street where the mark DGK implored us not to be exterminated crossing the street. The logic behind taking the troops to a place where they may die and then telling them NOT to be killed escapes me. Wouldn’t the most prudent course of action be NOT taking inebriated persons into the danger zone to begin with? Then again, as previously mentioned, considering who the hares were…

Once across Ocean, a solved check led the litter on-right to Soquel Avenue, on-left and on-up the Soquel Avenue hill(paying our respects to fallen hashers Last Norm Norm and Pearl Necklace as we passed their abode) and then on-right onto Ocean View Avenue and then immediately on-left through the parking lot behind Shoppers Corner. We crossed over South Branciforte Avenue and were led onto Hanover Street. Hanover is only one block long here and we were directed to on-right onto Pine Street. Once to Broadway, we were pointed on-left a mere one block to Pennsylvania Avenue where we went on-right and across Broadway onto Pennsylvania. Again, what would appear to be a pointless circle jerk. Now across Broadway, Pennsylvania was used until it ends at Windham Street. Here we we pointed on-right and past historic Windham Street Market, now a private residence, but was a working family-owned neighborhood market when Puff moved two blocks away in January of 1977.

Once (back) to Pine Street we went on-left a short distance and then on-right onto Pleasant Street. While LIVING here may be pleasant, DRIVING on this road is anything but. This must be a private street as there are no curbs or gutters and it has more holes than DeLaveaga golf course. After stumbling through Peasant Street’s one block length, it was on-left onto Caledonia Street who one block later turns on-right and morphs into Peck Terrace. This brought us to South Branciforte Avenue(again) where an on-left was made. At the end of South Branciforte, the mob utilized the locals-only path that skirts along beside a fence guarding an apartment complex and dumped us out on East Cliff Drive. Here was the promised Turkey/Eagle split. It appears the Eagles are headed towards Beach Flats. Scribe ain’t going there as it nears dark, I’ll be Turkey trotting today.

Trail turned us on-right a very short distance and then pointed us on-right again and into the inappropriately named Jessie Street Marsh. The City of Santa Cruz, in it’s infinite wisdom, put an end to the ‘marsh’ part of Jessie Street marsh decades ago so that now it can sit idle and useless and the wildlife that called it home was evicted. (The preceding was Editorial Opinion) Once we stumbled to Lemos Avenue and a quick on-right into Alley 938. When this alley ends at Barson Street, we went on-left, across Ocean Street(again) and on-left onto Bixby Street which brought us to East Cliff Drive again. We went directly across to our only shiggy of trail, a quick but steep climb on-up of a hillside to the top of the river levee. Here it was on-right. The Eagles rejoined at the Riverside Avenue bridge and then one and all hot-footed it to Mimi De Marta dog park on Broadway beside the river levee. In strict non-adherence to the sign at the entrance, the hares hosted Beer Check here. Clearly Not A Hooker (foolishly) pointed out where she sleeps at night, I noted many a harrier making a mental note of such. Upon the completion of our appointed task here, the mob migrated back to Riverside Lighting and, in the most well lit area RA Accuprick could find, we staged Religion in plain view from Soquel Avenue.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs Accuprick issued this night: Those whom were insanely attending their first Lampshade Hash; Leaky Rubber for not only remembering to bring the Hashit this week but for the salacious item he found to attach to it(visit the Flash for further info); Clearly Not A Hooker for sanitizing the item Leaky Rubber acquired to attach to the Hashit; those that set not one rear paw upon trail; Driponya as a backslider. Oh, yeah. The accursed tri-powered hares. There was some thanks for Beer Check but nothing good was said of trail. After dispensing with the hares and immediately after a black-and-white slowed to take in the proceedings, Accuprick declared, This Hash is over! By the same token, that brings an end to 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.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe