Salutations,

The above picture graphically summarizes the pack’s opinion of Trail 1163. While it would be both redundant and unnecessary, possibly even vindictive, to pile on further insults to the hare-pair that unleashed this misery upon us, I deem them more than deserving of such so will consequently proceed with this Trash.

We began the evening with a silly sojourn at a former old favorite, Callahan’s. We haven’t been here in quite a while and there have been some actual improvements. That being said, it’s difficult to concoct a more dreary unpleasant environment that the previous incarnation. It’s not as dark as previously so when you trip over someone passed out on the floor, you now know whether to say, Excuse me, SIR or Excuse me, MA’AM. The back room, formerly used only for clandestine, alcohol-fueled sexual encounters and the naming of Cold Smegma Kamikaze, is now brightly lit and open for business. The too-small room formerly home to a pool table now has a living room feel, albeit a small one, with the pool table moved to the aforementioned back room. The sound system, the prior one consisting mainly of the moans and weeping of the patrons,(and the occasional Yip! of ecstasy from the darkened back room) is now one of state-of-the-art where you can call up almost any tune you remember. Sadly, this can sometimes contribute to the same moans and weeping of patrons that formerly filled this space. Be that as it may, all things considered, these changes should be considered improvements. The area out the back door, formerly only fenced for Red Dress, appears now to be a permanent addition thanks to the City loosening restrictions due to the arrival of the pandemic. This, too, should be considered an improvement as the smell of stale smoke has not completely vanished from the interior of the building. While this was a pleasant change from what most of us expected to find here, remember NONE of these improvements are to the credit of our hare-pair.

Speaking of the dastardly-duo, here they are in their gory-glory most likely conferring on last minute adjustments to their trail prompted by seeing who has shown up for the hash.     

The hares delivered an astoundingly magnanimous Instructions of Trail barely short of claiming, And everyone will live happily ever after! I do not believe it was universally believed though as a few hashers were seen covering their mouth as Broke Bench droned on and the ones that were able to stomach his entire dissertation were seen immediately plummeting headfirst to the bar at it’s conclusion with most opting for a double-anything, on-the-rocks and make it quick. That’s paraphrased, not an exact quote, poetic license if you will.

After hares-out, with no GM’s present, last year’s co-GM Baker’s Dozen’t stepped forward to give the Chalk Talk to Virgins Bianca and Jennie. As a personal observation, I took note of the fact both virgins are unmarried females and Baker’s is an unmarried male. You make the call. As an aside to this, I also saw that Dicky Wacker, whom has hashed for decades prior and has over sixty hashes with us, attended said Chalk Talk. I would surmise he’s grown weary of getting lost within sight of Beer Check.      

 Upon the passage of fifteen minutes, give or take, Accuprick signaled for Circleup for Introductions and heard form the following hounds: Occasional Rapist, Baker’s Dozen’t, Dicky Wacker, Dung-Fu Grip, Just Holly, Wicked Retahted, Banana Basher, Steamy Baanorrhea, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Leaky Rubber, TIMMY!!, dBASED, International House of Pussy, Cum You Will Not, Chippin’ Ballz, Virgin Bianca, Virgin Jennie and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. The stage is set and the actors have taken their places. Let the play begin.

The recounting of this trail will prove far shorter than trail itself…mercifully.

On-out was a walk through the parking lot to May Avenue where a soon solved check turned the troops on-right to Hubbard Street where the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. The Turkeys appear headed for Grant Street Park, let’s follow the Eagles and see what evil the hares will toss their way.

The Eagles were pointed on-left onto Hubbard to Ocean Street. A relatively easy, if not safe, crossing of Ocean and the Eagles headed south, literally as well as figuratively. A hare arrow pointed the pod on-right onto Blaine Street and past the former abode of Twat Did You Say?, now a San Diego harriette. We also passed the County Jail. All the hashers I saw tip-toed as they passed. As the end of Blaine, we were turned on-right onto Villamar Way which is a pretty fancy name for what is little more than a paved stretch of dirt leading to parking lots for low-end apartment buildings that exist only by the grace of the river levee that keeps the mighty San Lorenzo moving on her straight and narrow path to Monterey Bay.

Nearing Kennan Street, a locals-only pathway leads on-up to the crest of the river levee and so we went and executed an on-right. This section of the levee, the one leading to Hell’s Alley in the colloquial, is only marginally safe for human creatures in the daylight. Once the sun abandons it and the creatures of the night take possession, it’s a good idea to make sure your health insurance is up-to-date before traversing this region. Steamy Baanorrhea moved through this area so quickly he could have been given a speeding ticket where he on a public road.

Once safely to Felker Street, and it’s not truly safe, marker pointed us to Ocean Street and across to Grant Street where we passed Grant Street Park and rejoined the Turkeys. To this day, I wonder how the Turkeys passed through Grant Street Park, the gate I saw was locked.

From here it was apparent we would progress to the opposite side of Highway 1. To that end, we used Grant Street to an on-left onto Berry Street, on-right onto Avalon Street followed by an on-left onto Emeline Street and under Highway 1 and then on-right onto Lee Street. As Scribe approached the Market-Lee Walkway, he beheld a frightening sight, three people under Highway 1 peering at the contents of a pack on the back of a bicycle. I assumed they were not looking at a new litter of kittens either.

Just as your Scribe approached, one of them looked up and asked what all the running was about. We’re running for beer! was my response. Apparently, whatever commodity was contained in the container was preferable to following me so I was allowed to pass unscathed. Trail proceeded around the apartment complex, which incidentally is home to old harriette Phyllis Driller, and came to an intersection where an on-right would cross Branciforte Creek and take you to Market Street and an on-left would bring you to Market Street. Apparently, our hare-pair did not believe trail has been long enough so we were off to Market Street and once there made an on-left still heading away from our starting point. 

Market Street was abused until Goss Avenue where an on-right took the troops on-up and across Branciforte Avenue and then on-right onto Gilbert Lane which makes a ninety-degree on-left and morphs into Rooney Street. If you travel far enough along Rooney, you’ll plop into the backyard of Pink Cherry Licker and Fap Jack, both of whom were conveniently home.

It was here that Beer Check was staged. Due to the close proximity of neighbors, the pandemonium was kept to a dull roar. We also most certainly did not wish to attract the attention of one next door neighbor in particular, that being Pee Skool, lest she slither next door and join us.

While there was an on-in trail marked, there were a number of free-form avenues explored. Your Scribe and Dicky Wacker did so but eventually intercepted True Trail on Berkeley Way. From there it was across Branciforte Creek on the pedestrian bridge, on-left onto Market Street and directly across Water Street into the medical complex called 550 Water. There, at the very back hidden from prying eyes, Accuprick convened Religion.

A few of the down-downs were as follows.

There were a number of other down-downs but they did not prove consequential to the overall success of this hash.

That pretty much wrapped up Hash 1163 and that pretty much wraps us 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.

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-third day of November in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Welcome to the abbreviated Red Dress 2021. For the second consecutive year, COVID has cramped our style. Fearing a super-spreader event, Red Dress has regressed back to Thursday from super-Saturday. Even so, forty-three half-minds donned the red for the event.

This fashion festivity found the flock convening at the Red Room. The indoor bar, both small and dark, soon gave way to the outdoor drinkin’ area. Not only did this make the pack happy but the lone bartender rejoiced to see us leave his sight as well. With over forty of we half-mind fools in attendance, jockeying for position and socializing were favorite pastimes.

There were to be two unrelated trails this evening. Surf City H3 Founder Banana Basher would lead the litter on a repeat of Surf City Hash #1 which he of course hared and then outgoing co-GM’s Baker’s Dozen’t and Dung-fu Grip would take over and lay a more up-to-date Surf City trail with an expected Turkey/Eagle split.

Hares-away heralded a return to socializing. Lets fast forward to Circleup for Introductions where answering barks were heard from the following hounds: Mr. Wiggly, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Moose Turd Pie, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Bareback Unicrack, Dicky Wacker, New Kids On My Cock, Chippin’ Ballz, Today Is Monday, Under Where?, Just Holly, My Little Bony, Courtesy Flush, No Film, Ska-Skank Redemption, Rubik’s Pube, Penis Horn Deformity, Steamy Baanorrhea, Wicked Retahted, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Occasional Rapist, Cumz Out My Nose, International House of Pussy, L’eggs, Cunt Double, Apple Bobber, Fucked-Over Fest, Lumber Party, Virgin Kelsey, Snake Me Anywhere, Pretty Fly For A Pi Guy, Cuntjungle, dBASED, Hand Over Piss, Broke Bench Mountain, Worm, Achy-Breaky Snatch and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our hare-trio was Banana Basher, Baker’s Dozen’t and Dung-fu Grip.

Scribe will attempt to encapsulate trail as much as possible because: 1) they were both shitty and 2) they did not contribute to the success of this Hash. 

From the Red Room, the recreation of Surf City Hash #1 turned on-right onto Locust Street, on-right onto Union Street and directly across Cedar Street and on-up the stairs to the top of the parking structure.

     

After the passage of sufficient time to ingest a minimum of two beers, Instructions of Trail were issued for a more conventional Surf City trail and co-hares Baker’s Dozen’t and Dung-fu Grip lit out. The pack straggled along behind them at their own pace. The first maneuver to be completed was to successfully negotiate the multiple flights of stairs leading on-down from the rooftop parking of the garage to street level. Once back to Locust Street, it was on-left, on-right at Pacific and on-left to violate Abbott Square via the arcade where one and all received a round of applause from patrons drinkin and dining on the large patio.

Once on Cooper Street, it was on-right to Front Street and on-right to the locals-only on-right to shortcut around the parking structure on Front and Soquel. On Soquel, the promised Turkey/Eagle split was observed. The Turkeys appear to be heading towards Pacific, let’s see what’s in store for the Eagles.

The Eagles crossed Front and turned on-right onto the river levee. The levee is sketchy during DAYLIGHT hours and is downright dangerous after the sun goes away. As we neared the Broadway/Laurel Bridge, a ‘local’ challenged our right to pass. A shout-out to Steamy Baanorrhea who stayed behind to safely escort DFL Scribe through this intersection. The Eagles crossed Laurel and headed along Laurel Street Extension and on-up the treacherous metal steps on-up to Beach Hill and on-left onto Third Street. A short on-down depositied the pod on-right onto Holden followed by an on-left onto Leibrandt which eventually took the troops to Beach Street where an on-right was indicated. Settle in for a pass-by of the closed, darkened, dreary Boardwalk.

Now we’ve made it to the Pacific Avenue Circus (ask Hand Over Piss for a translation) and made an on-right to the walkway beside the Monterey Bay Sanctuary Exploration Center. Here’s another iffy section of trail beneath the West Cliff Drive bridge. Mercifully, the City has seen fit to install lighting to illuminate this area. The same cannot be said of our next stop, Depot Park. After some brief confusion, trail was discovered behind the bathrooms and on-right on-up Chestnut Street. Chestnut Street was followed to it’s termination at Center Street. Owing to Scribe’s DFL status, he proceeded directly to Religion atop the River and River Street South parking structure.   

Once here and some semblance of order was installed, dBASED convened Religion. A number of down-downs were issued, most undeservedly. There was a considerable amount of nostalgia involved as this was celebrated as the club’s 21st birthday due to the first Hash have been staged November the ninth, 2000. All manner of Remember your first Hash? memories were shared. TIMMY!! was mocked for leaving his purse in his Uber, backsliders were punished, Virgin Kelsey was welcomed. There were others but they were even less important than the ones just mentioned. Eventually, as dBASED’s grip on the pack faded to black, the pack was dismissed and Hash 1161 declared over. That also brings this Trash to an end. Rumor Central informs me both venues suggested for on-on-on were closed. Rumor Central also contends Pretty Fly For A Pi Guy and Cuntjungle were witnessed with their rear paws caught in the bar rail at Abbott Square. That does not come as a shock though, does 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.

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 seventh day of November in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one. 

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe

Surf City H3

Greetings Ghouls and Ghosties,

       It’s All Hallows Eve and many things will go bump in the night after darkness covers the land this day.

However, I prefer to leave your sex life out of this Trash and proceed as usual.

The clan convened at the now-named Urbani’s Cellar, formerly Bocci’s Cellar, on Encinal Street as per the dictate of hare-pair(and a nice pair they are, too!) consisting of Hugh Heifer and Cum You Will Not.

The crowd was typically large(nor the way Banana Basher is) for a Hallowe’en Hash and hounds were in every corner and crevice. Pussy Galore and (second) husband Cum Lord make a rare guest appearance from Thailand. My Sister’s Dildo and Womb With A View are (temporarily) back on the Mainland from Hawaii. Driponya has reappeared after her naming. She and Rainbow Butthole sported sexy black stockings and garter belts but it appears they forgot to put their dresses on. Admittedly, I did not hear one male complain about their oversight though. In keeping with our vampyre theme, Dicky Wacker wore a convict’s striped outift. Well, it’s Dicky Wacker after all. dBASED was being devoured by a shark, there’s always been something fishy about that man anyway. Snake Me Anywhere wore a makeshift bunny outfit. After her trail of last week she should have hopped into the bushes and not returned. Moose Turd Pie, AKA Broken Wing, wore a nice camouflage attire, presumably in an attempt to hide from our many vampyres. Leaky Rubber donned, well, I guess it was meant to be a tiger ensemble. More than just his rubber has sprung a leak I fear.

Eventually the hares hopped on-out and fifteen minutes later Circleup for Introductions was executed and the pack progressed at a snail’s pack down Encinal and across Highway 9 into the Tannery Arts Center. A mercifully small circle-jerk took us to the walkway behind the building and under Highway 1 to Gateway Plaza shopping center. Just out from under Highway 1, we were accosted by a ‘local resident’ who was perturbed we were waking her. Mercifully, all she had was a few foul words for us and no physical weapons. We moved on quickly.

We motivated through the parking lot, to River Street and headed downtown. We went on-right through Trader Joe’s parking lot and on-left onto Front Street, shortcut through the outdoor dining area for the Palomar Restaurant, on-right onto Soquel Avenue and then on-right on Pacific Avenue.

  It was on-left off Pacific onto Church Street and on-left on Cedar Street where we managed to completely disrupt the dining experience at Gabriella’s much to the chagrin of patrons and wait staff alike. Soon it was on-left onto Mission Street to initiate the arduous on-up of the Mission Street hill to on-right into Mission Plaza for a scheduled Beer Check.

After our business was concluded there, we transferred our bodies to Holy Cross Church where photos were taken and then, before we were discovered by parishioners, took off for the pedestrian bridge towering over Highway 1 and then on-right on the pedestrian path on-down to the Harvey West Park area. An on-left onto Evergreen Street deposited us at the arch over the entrance to Evergreen Cemetery. We entered. 

A number of intrepid souls such as Just Holly took the trip to the very top of Glory Path which is the main path into Evergreen Cemetery. She was white as a ghost(no pun intended) upon her return. The pack came to a stop partway up and bloody drinks were distributed.

After living through as much fun as we could stand, we traversed the distance back to Evergreen Street where we found a Cadillac hearse awaiting us.

Here we encountered a coffin portraying a cooler.

Once our business was concluded here, Religious Adviser dBASED convened Religion for those sober enough to attend.

A number of justified and unjustified down-downs were issued. TIMMY! was busted for not a hint of a costume. Rainbow Butthole was awarded Best Costume while Cum Lord received the Best Vampyre Slayer Costume Award. Hugh Heifer celebrated her 600th Hash with us. There were a number of backsliders, notably Bee Queefer, Pussy Galore and Cum Lord.

Oh, yeah. The accursed(cursed?) hares, Hugh Heifer and Cum You Will Not. Trail was especially inventive but also took the troops to dangerous places so it was pretty much a wash.

That just about did it in for Hallowe’en Hash 2021 and that puts the lid on this Hash Trash as well. Next week? Red Dress Run from the Red Room.

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.

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, All Hallows Eve, the thirty-first day of October, in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe

Surf City H3

Greetings,

       There will be no thousand word expose of Trail 1159. That does not mean I do not believe it possesses sufficient material for ridicule, it merely indicates I do not find it worthy of consuming that much of my life. This Trash is published merely for our posterity and to serve as a warning to them as to what happens when a gang of hares descends upon an unsuspecting populace and lays waste to all they survey.

This hash began pleasantly enough at Greater Purpose Brewing. The weather cooperated with a balmy temperature and no moisture descending upon us. The Brewery has begun requiring proof of vaccination and this does not refer to your latest injection of penicillin either. This may have been merely a ploy to rid the inside of the building of hashers to allow the regulars to assume their usual positions. Whatever the methodology, it was successful and the pack migrated to the outdoor drinkin’ area.

  While a little behind their announced schedule, our hare quartet imparted Instructions of Trail. We had two Virgin hares, Just Jaime and Just Mike, and two slightly more experienced in Snake Me Anywhere and (current) husband Hand Over Piss. As we’ve all been witness to, frequently three hares will step all over each other’s trail resulting in mass confusion on the part of the hounds. We now know to add even more ‘mass’ to that mass confusion when four hares are involved.

After the passage of the requisite fifteen minute lead time, Circleup for Introductions was convened and the following hounds responded: dBASED, Banana Basher, TIMMY!!, Occasional Rapist, Broke Bench Mountain, Pink Cherry Licker, Dung-fu Grip, Cumz Out My Nose, Fap Jack, Wicked Retahted, Baker’s Dozen’t, Cum You Will Not, Steamy Baanorrhea, Rubik’s Pube, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Today Is Monday, Dicky Wacker, Yellow Prick Load, Moose Turd Pie, Bestiality Interruptus and Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

Trail took off through the parking lot and through a locals-only hole-in-the-wall entrance to an apartment complex facing Merrill Street where a runner/walker split was viewed. Let’s see what the hares have in store for the runners so we’ll on-left onto Merrill. Merrill ends at 14th Avenue where an on-left is mandatory and brought the gang back to East Cliff Drive. Here we were directed to cross and make another on-left and pass by East Cliff Shopping Village where we began this trip. As Scribe approached the intersection of East Cliff Drive, 17th Avenue and Portola Drive, he encountered Steamy Baanorrhea and dBASED returning back along East Cliff Drive stating they’d encountered false markings just past Sunny Cove Drive. We cursed our hares as false markings should not be used once true trail has been established. This trio took off down Portola Drive. At 18th Avenue, Scribe headed on-right back to East Cliff Drive believing whomever laid that false simply must have continued on. Once I made the on-left back onto East Cliff Drive, I encountered marker. It was later revealed the hares had transformed one of the large white arrows in the bike lane into a hare arrow. Sadly, all dBASED and Steamy recognized was the three lines of flour and mistook such for false markings. Scribe continued along East Cliff Drive, hiding from cars on this (very) narrow and (very) dark section of road until 26th Avenue where an arrow turned him on-left. 26th is even darker and narrower than East Cliff Drive and it was utilized until Portola Drive where marker turned trail on-left.

At least there was a sidewalk to accommodate hounds through here. Trail motored along Portola to 24th Avenue where it turned on-right and went to Felt Street. Felt was taken to Corcoran Avenue where a strange sight was beheld: a marked-out hare arrow! Not sure I’ve ever seen one before. The hare arrow pointing on-left was marked out in favor one of pointing directly across the street. Once there? There was marker turning trail on-left anyway! WTF?!? Corcoran was used until just prior to Portola where marker turned trail on-right onto Alice Street. When Alice terminated at 17th Avenue, Scribe found no marks on-right or on-left so he surrendered and went on-left and back to Greater Purpose for Religion. Scribe found it unsettling no other hashers were at Greater Purpose when he arrived but settled in with a beer anyway. Soon a text arrived from Dung-fu Grip informing me Beer Check was now the site for Religion as well. As I was pretty far from Kinsley Street, I finished my beer and went-the-hell home. 

I was informed there was Beer Check. I did not find such.

I was informed there was Religion. I did not find such.    

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe

Surf City H3

Salutations,

       But no salvation…from Ho to Housewife, Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp and their convoluted conception of trail-laying.

       We (foolishly) allowed ourselves to be lulled into a sense of complacency by clustering at old favorite The Crepe Place. AKA the creepy place in Hash parlance. It’s rather dark and the front room has had a stage added for live music performances. Diners are immediately ushered into the back room or the outdoor dining area in an effort to minimize their interaction with hashers. While management seems happy with our burgeoning bar bill, they do not wish to alienate the mortals that come here to sup.

       For the most part, we ignored anyone other than our own and busied ourselves with socializing or watching the Giants-Dodgers baseball game.

After the passage of sufficient time, co-hares Ho to Housewife and Thmp-Thmp delivered their usual useless version of Instructions of Trail. Not that it matters anyway though, they were as usual universally ignored.

After everyone finished their drink, a call for Circleup for Introductions was issued and responding barks were heard from the following hounds: Dung-fu Grip, Occasional Rapist, Wicked Retahted, Steamy Baanorrhea, dBASED, Snake Me Anywhere, TIMMY!!, Dicky Wacker, Broke Bench Mountain, Cumz Out My Nose, Leaky Rubber, Hugh Heifer, My Little Bony, Cum You Will Not, Testacoil, Bestiality Interruptus, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Pink Cherry Licker, Baker’s Dozen’t, Courtesy Flush and Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

The first check, upon which we had circled, proved problematic. Hounds headed towards Seabright, across Soquel Avenue and toward Cayuga as well. Marker was found towards and beyond Cayuga eventually. A back check mark at Pennsylvania made the clan reverse course. Broke Bench Mountain crossed Soquel in search of marker or at the very least, a quick shot at One-Double-Oh-Seven Club. Cold Smegma Kamikaze and Puff found flour between an office and an apartment building and followed it down a driveway and then on-right to Pennsylvania. Our first circle-jerk of the evening and it portended of things to come.

Sadly for them, Kamikaze and Puff did not see the on-right off Pennsylvania and went to Broadway before deciding they’d missed something. This is the last we’ll see of these two losers until Liquor Check. Good-bye….

More observant hounds saw flour on-right off Pennsylvania and went down a driveway and through a business parking lot and we circle-jerked back to Soquel within sight of where we started. Here we were directed to on-left along Soquel and use the crosswalk over to the defunct Tony & Alba’s Pizza. Hounds farther back were able to risk life and limb if they were so inclined and shortcut across Soquel. Many did and, luckily, all survived. Once safely across, we traversed the Whole Foods parking lot to North Branciforte Avenue and executed and on-right and began a long, boring stretch of macadam. A check at Water Street was soon solved and the litter pranced across Water and continued along North Branciforte. Prepare yourself, evil is headed your way.

Marker made members on-left onto Berkeley Way and this was soon followed by an on-right onto Berkeley Court. (Court being a place these hares should be taken) The locals have wisely blocked the roadway from Berkeley Court to Dahlia Street allowing only pedestrians ingress and egress. When Dahlia intersects with Linden Street, an on-left onto Linden was indicated. At the next intersection, that with Rose Street, the pack was turned on-right, back to North Branciforte and on-left just as we had prior to this very long circle-jerk. Thanks, hares.

North Branciforte was traversed until Keystone Avenue where we were pointed on-right followed by an on-left onto Poplar Avenue which quickly gave to an on-right onto Parnell Street. One block later we were directed on-right onto Harrison Avenue and to Melrose Avenue and on-left. When Melrose collides with Morrissey Boulevard, a sorry sight was seen: Courtesy Flush splay-legged on the sidewalk, much as would a common wino, being mimicked by Testacoil’s faithful canine companion Rex. Between gulps of air, Courtesy Flush exclaimed he’s was waiting on Testacoil to arrive with transportation for Rex who had developed bleeding paws on trail. Where was Bestiality Interruptus when you needed him? Drinking somewhere no doubt. When Testacoil arrived, Rex was gingerly placed in the makeshift ambulance and the now-recovered Courtesy Flush took off in pursuit of the pack.     

Melrose was utilized until San Juan Avenue where an on-right was made which brought us back to Soquel Avenue, the street on which this fiasco began oh-so-long-ago. Soquel was used until Mentel Avenue where we were directed on-right. Smelling Arana Gulch in our near future, the pack powered to the entrance where we encountered co-hare Princess Di(arrhea) resting on her haunches and sipping Cinnamon Fireball Whiskey. We joined her.

Trail proceeded through Arana Gulch and then left on Fredrick Street to desecrate the grounds of Star of the Sea Catholic Church. We exited out the rear, so to speak, and onto Effey Street. Effey was abused until Hanover Street where the pod was pointed on-right. Hanover ends at Gault Street where we went directly across to invade the home of Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy. 

After our business was concluded here, we sauntered one block to the parking lot behind Lillian’s Italian Kitchen to stage Religion. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs awarded by RA dBASED: Snake Me Anywhere, Dung-fu Grip and Hand Over Piss as backsliders; dBASED for a false accusation against Leaky Rubber, dBASED for successfully, more or less, completing 25 consecutive hashes with us; Dicky Wacker for saying the only reason he fell on trail this week is because someone pushed him from behind; Bestiality Interruptus as a backslider. And that’s about it. Oh, sorry, I forgot the damn hares.

 After the hated hares were roasted, the RA adjourned the pack and many retired to Taqueria Santa Cruz II, conveniently located directly across the street from the One-Double-Oh-Seven Club for some sustenance, be it solid or liquid.

That ends Trail 1158 and this Trash as well.

This 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.

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 days of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-one.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Acting Scribe Surf City H3