The Redwood forest,

Devours all that encroaches into it’s verdant greenery…and surrenders none of it back from whence it originated. Never has this been more true than it was on the evening of 6 July 2023. It was upon this occasion that Occasional Rapist and dBASED led a small contingency of Surf City hounds into the dark depths of some of the unexplored regions of UCSC property. This was meant as a correction, shall we term it, of a fantastic fiasco staged in this very area a mere two weeks prior by Dung-Fu Grip. What we were promised was a correction but what we got was an over-correction. From short trail and a lost hare we were dosed with a much longer trail and the Turkey hare leaving at 6:10 and the Eagle hare deciding to completely drop his intended Eagle trail and trot along behind the Turkey hare. Two weeks ago it was a Surf City first, that being the hare becoming lost on his own trail multiple times. This time it was the Eagle hare sending the Turkey hare out half an hour early, then simply following the Turkey hare, not a care in the world. ANOTHER Surf City first we could have easily spent a hashing career and never have been a party to.

Let’s set the stage for this tragedy in three acts. Three acts as that just happens to coincide with the number of hounds that showed snout for this. Two weeks ago it was four hounds. This week Hareless and Circle Gherkin’, having had their fill of this place, sat this one out and were replaced by Flours For Anal Bum and TIMMY!!, recently returned from the Emerald Isle.

dBASED made more excuses for Instructions of Trail than giving a warning about what to expect. Scribe believes that was appropriate as the Eagle trail has been dropped and the Eagle hare would now trail the Turkey hare. Strange configuration. (second) Hare out.

The mini-pack waited less than 10 minutes before beginning to walk trail. Scribe will not even attempt to name any of the trails we were subjected to, most of which are unnamed at best and illegal and dangerous at the worst. Scribe will validate the arrival of a fourth hound about a third of the way through trail though.

We encountered a large number of mountain bikers of course but mercifully no mountain lion sightings. Eventually, somewhere south of Twin Gates, we discovered our hare-pair lazily sucking away on Beer check beer. We gladly joined them. Upon the completion of our appointed task here, we undertook a rather lengthy on-in to the start where Dung-Fu Grip assumed the role of Religious Adviser. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs issued this week: Dung-Fu Grip for being (exceptionally) late; TIMMY!! as a backslider; Courtesy Flush for only showing for Religion and ,worse yet, not drinking as he swallowed 9 margaritas on July Fourth; Puff as the only hound to attend both hashes held at this locale; TIMMY!! for his 666th hash with us. And yes, the hares. They were thanked for taking us to the Redwoods but NOT for ‘taking us to the cleaners!’ This Hash is over.

On-on-on was assembled at Parish Publick House and featured damn near everyone that showed snout for this Hash!

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 mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-53.

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, the 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 eleventh day of July in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Prepare yourselves,

Not so much for this Trash but what it will tell you about Broke Bench Mountain, AKA Bubbles the Unicorn, and his criminal colleague, Clearly Not A Hooker. She may be Clearly Not A Hooker but she has other aspects to her persona more threatening and terrifying. (If not MUCH more) Here’s how this week’s chapter of calamity unfolded.

This trail was typical early 21st century ugly. Beginning the Rainbow Hash from the Blue Lagoon is done to make the pack believe they are cared for. What the hares REALLY cared about is torturing the troops terribly. So, begin from a familiar location appropriate for this week’s theme and the gang will believe a good trail is to follow. Here’s how THIS one went for us.

Hounds slowly trickled in to an almost-empty Blue Lagoon. Like most fun spots here in the Cruz, the curtain does not rise on the play until much later. We are safe showing our snouts at this hour. The bar and the adjacent tables were confiscated for our own end and occupied as the pack grew. Eventually Bubbles burst in soon to be followed by the Hooker in full-on unicorn regalia.

Where does someone, even someone as weird as our Hooker, find such attire? On second thought, I prefer not to have that knowledge nor would I ever consider patronizing such a business myself anyway. Movin’ on… Instructions of Trail, assuming there even more some, were not heard by anyone with whom I spoke. The Hooker DID place instructional markings on the sidewalk representative of those we would see along trail. Soon after this, co-GMs Broke Bench Mountain/Bubbles the Unicorn and Cumz Out My Nose called for Circleup for Introductions and…wait…what is co-hare Broke Bench doing here? Oh. The hare-pair will escort the hounds along trail. A dead hare trail, something we have not had in quite a while. In our infancy, such was staged at Surf City to insure as few hounds as possible became lost and would require a hare rescue event. This trail, however, was dead hare probably owing to the fact the hares had little to no confidence in their trail-laying ability. Back to Circleup for Introductions. Heard from during this event was: Bacon Queef, Hugh Heifer, Pink Cherry Licker, Fap Jack, Rubik’s Pube, Steamy Baanorrhea, Boneless Shelter, dBASED, Today Is Monday, Occasional Rapist, Gary the Shit Stain, Dung-Fu Grip, Dog Breath, Circle Gherkin’, Cum, U Will Not! and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency consisted of Happy, Scratch and Sniff, Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick. Pack (and hares!) out.

It was south on Pacific to the first check at Laurel Street. On-on was soon sounded continuing towards the water. I did not hear of a Guerilla Beer Check at the Asti but would not be surprised if there was one. Trail continued along Pacific and made a counterclockwise circle of the traffic circle at Center Street and West Cliff Drive. This put the pack on a collision course with Beach Street and the Boardwalk beyond. Sounds sketchy. And it was. At the next traffic circle we again went against the grain and circumnavigated counterclockwise. Acting counterintuitively has become the norm for this hare-pair.

Now we’re traipsing along Beach Street rubbing elbows (and the occasional butt) with hundreds of turistas who have opted to begin the Fourth of July holiday a day (or two) early. The street is jammed and the beach volleyball courts are all occupied. There were many interesting sights on the beach but Hash Flash will retain those pictures for ‘personal use’. We’re reached Cliff Street and a hare-arrow directs us on-left and on-up to Second Street where an on-right was dictated. This lasted until Riverside Avenue where we crossed on-left and over the river to an on-right on San Lorenzo Boulevard. We crossed Ocean Street and were pointed on-left to Broadway. There was one interesting sight along Ocean.

What a sad sight the above is! Harriers, let’s each choose one of the above harriettes and take them shopping sometime!!

At Broadway, the pod was pointed on-right and on-up the Broadway hill to an on-right onto Ocean View Avenue. The right side of this street may house the most stunning houses in Santa Cruz in one block. Walnut Avenue between Cedar and Chestnut streets is nice too but these mansions are spectacular. Scribe is certain you now know our destination, Ocean View Park. And there we were… After our business was concluded here, which was not over until every dog in the pack played with every dog in the park, it was off to the second Beer Check of the evening, this one on the hounds, to be followed by Religion close by. We exited the park to South Branciforte Avenue and did the (steep) on-up to Buena Vista Avenue, on-right there to Logan Street, on-left there to slide into The Blue on Seabright Avenue for second Beer Check. By this stage of the game, things had begun to deteriorate. Much drinking was followed by a little more of the same. The only impressive act perpetrated here was Dung-Fu Grip and Puff teaming up with Circle Gherkin’ to ‘tag’ the ceiling! You’ll have to view the Flash to see their handiwork. We shall live in infamy in this watering hole for quite a while I dare say.

After the settling of bar tabs, we crossed Seabright onto Watson Street to hold Religion. Once sufficiently regrouped, Dung-Fu Grip grabbed the helm. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this session: visitors were welcomed; those that did BWAC campout were recognized; those that shunned this week’s rainbow and/or unicorn theme were punished; Co-hare Clearly Not A Hooker for wearing a costume so confining she couldn’t see where the hell she was going; Steamy Baanorrhea for being repeatedly chased off the Boardwalk by security guards; Circle Gherkin’ for perpetrating (penetrating?) an obscene(erotic?) act at Campout last weekend; Dung-Fu Grip celebrated his 425th Hash with us and (extreme) backslider Dog Breath was punished. This Hash is…oh. The hare-pair. They were thanked for the colorful theme and two Beer Checks but no (complimentary) mention was made about trail. This Hash is over!

On-on-on convened at Engfer’s Pizza and we closed the place down. And then some.

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 mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-52.

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 of July, Independence Day, in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

On-up,

To Bonny Doon in the cold and drizzle. But Dung-Fu Grip trails are typically momentous, right? Well, this one certainly was but was not his standard fare. See below.

Fap Jack was a first responder. This was due to the exhaustion level of our usual Beermeister, his wife, Pink Cherry Licker. Apparently she can no longer party all night and continue as usual the next day. He stood there in the dreariness hoping at least one other hasher would appear. Soon, the hare appeared on his bike! Impressive, that’s quite a climb and even more so with a backpack full of beer. Fap Jack passed him on his way on-up but there was no place to pull off the road. Beer safely stashed somewhere near, he arrived at Point A. Next on the scene was Circle Gherkin’ followed by dBASED and Junk Puncher. Felton local Hareless pulled up last on the wrong side of the road from we Santa Cruzans.

Though past the announced on-out time, a few more minutes were allotted. Soon though everyone surrendered and the hare delivered an abbreviated Instructions of Trail. Due to the minuscule attendance, trail would be not only shortened but the hare would set the entire trail on his bike!This Hash became a Bash! Hare away.

Some additional time was allotted by the pack in hopes others would join us. And they did! Broke Bench Mountain and Scratch and Sniff showed up quite late. The lone GM then convened Circelup for Introductions and meager barks were heard from: Fap Jack, Hareless, Circle Gherkin, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Immediately upon completing this tradition, Broke Bench Mountain left for Vino-by-the-Sea! Pack out.

There are so many trails in this area, some legal and some not, only approximations of trail direction will be even attempted. North Meadow Trail was taken and then some manner of single track crossed us over to Mushroom Hunter. At a check we found the hare attempting to get a cell signal to determine where he had screwed-up. Eventually he took off but then returned a second time deciding he had erred yet again. He doubled back on trail and tried a different exit. This one was successful.

We eventually emerged onto Chinquapin Road and crossed Empire Grade at Twin Gates into Wilder Ranch State Park. We passed Broncos but made the next on-right at Infosign and were soon treated to what you see below.

Yes, it was Beer Check staged in a grove of second growth redwood. At least this trail was scenic even if trail itself was almost nonexistent. After a discussion here pertaining to whether AGM is the FIRST Hash of the year or the LAST, we motivated on-in via Woodcutters’ Trail and then along an unnamed trail back to Point A.

And now for what is arguably the briefest Religion in Surf City history. Religious Adviser dBASED awarded Dung-Fu Grip a down-down for getting lost on his own trail; Fap Jack punished for not even attempting trail; Fap Jack was allowed a second down-down for retaining his chapeau on his noggin during the previous down-down and finally the hare for haring a trail on a bike even slower than if he had been running. No on-on-on. This Hash is over.

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 I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-51.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Sunshine,

And I would like to ‘shine on’ this Hash Trash but my superiors demand I pen such. I will endeavor to read the fine print more closely on the next contract I sign.

Why would I ever wish to skip penning a Trash? Well, in this particular instance it is due to this trail being so haphazardly constructed as to throw half the pack off true trail then chide the hounds for the hares’ failure. Evidence of their half-mindedness will be detailed below.

As is the usual ploy of hares that are not confident in their trail, choose a hound-friendly start. Consequently, Point A was old favorite New Bohemia Brewery on Lower 41st Avenue. Everyone likes the place and the sun was out. We basked in the warmth like lazy lizards. Or dogs.

Occasional Rapist has returned to the pack after visiting her sister, Dirty Bean, in a foreign country, New Mexico to be specific. I’ve heard it’s frequently hot there, fit only for succulents. Each to their own though I guess. It’s nice to have her home, this trail notwithstanding. Oh, yeah. Nice to have Junk Puncher tapping us again as well. Princess Di(arrhea) was in attendance sans crutches or anything else to lean on for that matter. A nice sight. The former Just Josh is now Oral D courtesy of his Mother Hash, Can’d out of Monterey. As the story behind his naming is rude at best and obscene at worst, get in touch with him(so to speak) if you wish to know of it.

After zero hour came and went, the hare-pair delivered Instructions of Trail. It was announced trail would be ‘short and shitty’. Well, least they were HALF truthful with us. Hares away.

Fifteen minutes were consumed consuming remaining ales and disposing of bar tabs. After the passage of this well-respected tradition, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested a Circelup for Introductions and this resulted in hearing from: Princess Di(arrhea), Thmp-Thmp, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Oral D, Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, Flours For Anal Bum, Cum, U Will Not!, Boneless Shelter and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We would be joined (very) late on trail by Virgin Slim. For our canine contingency we had Happy, Spot’d Dick and Scratch and Sniff with Junk Puncher co-haring. Pack out.

Trail proceeded north on 41st one block to Jade Street where an on-right was dictated all the way to 45th Avenue where a rapid fire on-left/on-right placed the pack on Topaz Street. A block later at 49th Avenue, hare incompetence raised it’s little cotton tail.

Rumor Control contends trail took 49th on-left to Capitola Road and on-right there and on-down Wharf Road and then on-right onto Cliff Drive. The transition was then made from Cliff Drive onto Portola Drive followed by on-right onto Nova Drive and then on-left onto Bain Drive. A block later it was on-left onto Adriene Way which brought the brood back to Portola Drive. An on-right here and it was on-in to Beer Check in the parking lot at 41st Avenue. That was true trail.

However, and Scribe wishes to place blame on pee-poor marking at 49th, Dung-Fu Grip went on-right on 49th and intersected with true trail on Portola. This enabled him and those that heeded his On-On! call to shortcut a substantial portion of this trail. That proved acceptable as it was a lousy trail anyway.

So, here we are(here we are) in the parking lot on the corner of Portola Drive and 41st Avenue in plain sight of any law enforcement passing by. We did manage to give out a couple of our business cards to interested individuals. Hounds straggled in; short-cutters, (unintentional) short-cutters, true trailers and walkers. All in all, it was an extended reassembling of the pack. Eventually all snouts reappeared and drinks were drunk. It was then time to undertake the jaunt on-up 41st to a closed business across the street from our start at NuBo Brewery.

Once intact again, Dung-Fu Grip cranked up Religion. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this evening: Dung-Fu Grip awarded himself a down-down for his (unintentional) short-cutting; Flours For Anal Bum was given the nickname of Trail Grazer for her persistent devouring of flowers, plants and lawn clippings she discovers along trail; Cum, U Will Not! for not bringing the Hashit; Thmp-Thmp for meeting a dog along trail named Chad(Thmp-Thmp’s mortal name); those that did not do trail; Virgin Slim as an interloper; Oral D celebrated his hash handle and Cumz out My Nose received names for her new knees. Then it was off to on-on-on at…oh. The damn hare-pair. They were thanked for starting at New Bohemia Brewing but Scribe heard no compliments directed at trail. NOW it was off to Taqueria Vallarta for on-on-on. This Hash is over.

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 I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-50.

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-first day of June, the Summer Solstice, in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Paradigm Shift,

Is how we will begin this week’s Hash Trash issue. Normally, this would begin with the traditional bashing of last week’s trail and it’s perpetrators, the hare(s). This week will be different though. Scribe waited until Tuesday to receive emails as he normally does detailing the failure(s) of the weeks hare(s). However, this week Scribe did not receive such. No harsh invectives or vitriolic insults were leveled against this week’s hare-pair.

Now that the subject has been raised, and I believe I can speak on Dung-Fu Grip’s behalf in this matter as well, we wish to thank everyone for the offers of gift cards and free dinners but we cannot accept such. This past Thursday’s trail was merely indicative of how Dung-Fu Grip and yours truly assemble trails. We only ask that you look forward with near-orgasmic anticipation of our next joint outing.

So, that matter dispensed with we will now proceed as normal.

The hare-pair chose two Virgin sites for this week’s trail. We began from Firefly Tavern, that’s the former 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall for those of you in residence here in days BC. (Before Covid) Trivia: 99 Bottles was the rendezvous for dBASED and Occasional Rapist’s first date. The inside of the building filled quickly enough followed by the (small) outdoor drinkin’ area.

Below we see the outdoor drinkin’ area commandeered by hashers. We also see Sargent-at-Arms, Just Foot Pussy, ensuring mortals will not attempt to join us.

You will also take note of the fact our long-lost Hashit has finally returned to the fold. Supposedly, Just Foot Pussy was allowed to keep it even though he said he would be working most Thursdays and therefore unable to return it anytime soon. No one seemed to care. This is a gentle way of saying no one wanted to be stuck carrying the damn thing.

Not long past the advertised 6:33 on-out time, Dung-Fu Grip delivered Instructions of Trail. At first, his co-hare thought he may be planning a different trail than the one they scouted together but then remembered the old maxim: Hares lie! It all made sense then. Hares away.

As Scribe was not present for the festivities, he assumes it was the standard fare; settle bar tabs and ignore the potential perilous problems that awaited them on trail.

After the 15 freebies were spent, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following: TIMMY!!, Clearly Not A Hooker, Just Josh, Steamy Baanorrhea, Flours For Anal Bum, Worm, Hareless, Cum, U Will Not!, Just Foot Pussy, Circle Gherkin’, Just Jackie, Virgin Brie, dBASED, Today Is Monday, Pink Cherry Licker and Jizziki. On the four-legged hound side, we were riding high tonight: Spot’d Dick, Junk Puncher(back from vacation), Scratch and Sniff, Niko, Bukkake and Skipper. Pack out.

Trail took a familiar route, an alley! It was up Commerce Lane, on-left at Church Street to a check at Cedar Street. Trail was found on Cedar, on-right onto Plaza Lane and on-right onto Pacific Avenue. In keeping with tradition, flour is verbotten on Pacific. In front of Sockshop, a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left and to traverse the width of Bookshop Santa Cruz. Once that was successfully dealt with, a check was discovered on the triangular traffic island at the intersection of Front Street and River Street.

True trail was discovered through the Galleria complex to a check at River Street South and then across the pedestrian bridge and once across, on-right on the levee walkway. Just over the bridge above Branciforte Creek another check was observed. A false on-left left but one option, to continue along the river levee walkway. This took the troops to a check on-left and on-down from the levee at Broadway. Trail was located on-right across the Laurel Street bridge to a check at Front Street. Across the street trail was located behind the tire store, the site of many a Religion, and then along Laurel Street Extension and, curse these hares, on-up the damn steps to the top of Beach Hill. At the intersection with Third Street the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. As Scribe was pretending to be the Turkey hare, he hasn’t a clue as to where the Eagles were taken but knows Beach Street and Neary Lagoon were in their immediate future. The Turkeys were taken on-right on Third and on-right and on-down Front Street.

At the intersection with Pacific, trail turned on-left to cross and then on-right to an on-left onto Sycamore Street and on-right onto Cedar Street. This would eventually cross Laurel Street and on-left onto Maple Street and on-right onto Center Street. This lasted until Lincoln Street where an on-right was dictated. Once across Cedar, an on-right led the litter down another great alley. The Turkey hare was also joined here by a walking Cumz Out My Nose who had concocted her own trail to get her miles in. They joined forces and crossed the parking lot where the Farmer’s Market is held and threw down the BN pointing towards the front door of Lupulo. This was our second Virgin site for the evening.

This yielded much rejoicing. The place has over a hundred beers. That’s enough for even THIS thirsty pack!

Before everyone went back in for a second(or THIRD in some cases) beer, the GMs told everyone to pack it in and head(Who said…) for the top floor of the Locust Street car park. Once reassembled, Religious Adviser Pink Cherry Licker fired up her insult machine. Here are a few of the results of her actions this night: The RA(also this month’s Beermeister) was busted for not bringing the chips; Worm for shedding blood on trail; those that ran through false markings; Just Josh announces he will hare for Can’d this weekend; backsliders were punished; the Virgin was welcomed; Just Foot Pussy for (finally) bringing back our Hashit; the harriette that…uh…extricated dog poop from her dog’s butt(YUK!); Fap Jack for setting off a car alarm; Cum, U Will Not! for 25 consecutive hashes; the GMs for not giving a Chalk Talk and that was deemed enough. Oh, wait. I almost forgot how the hares were lauded for the start location and the Beer Check location but that was about it for them. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was back at Firefly who now wisely stays open till 10 and saw eight hashers in attendance.

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 I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-49.

By Special Permission 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 June in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Pitch a tent,

Because our hares have INTENT. Better yet, pitch out these hares. I must say though I do not remember a trail constructed with such careful butchery in quite a while. Previously, I had found it preferable to do my remembering alone. This trail shattered that illusion. I do not wish to relive the terror by myself. Misery loves companionship to share the pain, reduce the stress inherent in a Cum,U Will Not! and Steamy Baanorrhea trail. Dive in if you wish.

So, there we were(there we were) at campsite six, New Brighton State Beach Campground. As a digression, Rumor Central says after dark hashers renamed this place Campsite Sex. You can fill in the holes in that story yourself I’m certain. Things began innocently enough; Cum, U Will Not! welcoming hounds to the hash while criminal colleague Steamy Baanorrhea prelaid the Eagle trail. This is par for the course, of course. Little did we know what treachery awaited us just minutes into our future.

As usual, the hares hopped around and did not come close to the standard on-out time. Just as we thought they may finally start this trail, Cum came to the picnic table carrying all the ingredients necessary for Liquor Check. Normally such components are concealed along trail but this hare-pair opted to hold Liquor Check prior to trail’s even starting. Novel idea. Not intriguing, impressive or intelligent, just novel. While hounds bellied up to the bar, technically the picnic table, Cum came on an adjoining table and put out Instructions of Trail. They only made people drink more I fear. Soon Steamy attempted to hoist her out of the hole she’d dug for herself but that effort only led to his joining her in the depths of despair. Hares away.

The next fifteen were spent at Liquor Check by those fearful of what may befall them soon. That included everyone. Broke Bench Mountain threw a 25 pound box of chalk on the table saying he did not want us to run out. dBASED said he already had a box of such size it was difficult to lift. More on the Chalk Controversy during Religion, it will take on humorous overtones then. After Liquor Check items were almost depleted, GM Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in his hearing from: Rubik’s Pube, dBASED, Dung-Fu Grip, Flours For Anal Bum, Chippin’ Ballz, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Fap Jack, Circle Gherkin’, Just Josh, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Cold Smegma Kamikaze and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a small canine contingency this week consisting of only Spot’d Dick and Swamp Rat. Pack out.

As the road in the campground has no name, I will fast forward to the trail, or more precisely it’s remnants, that lead on-down to New Brighton Beach. Once we hit rock bottom, it was on-right and on-up first to the parking lot and then on-left to the railroad tracks. Soon it was on-left onto a path that towered above Monterey Bay and would bring us to the promised Turkey/Eagle split. It’s a beautiful day, let’s soar with the Eagles. The Eagles went on-left at the split and took a shiggy trail, amongst lots of poison oak, to the end of El Salto Drive followed by an on-left onto Oakland Avenue. This street ends at the remnants of Grand Avenue, most of which has been claimed by the Bay. Taking Grand Avenue will deliver you to the edge of the infamous steps leading on-down to Capitola Village. And we took them. And they took us. At the bottom it was on-right onto El Camino Medio Street to Monterey Avenue. There, an on-left was quickly followed by an on-right onto Cherry Avenue to Fanmar Way. At Fanmar we turned on-left and crossed Capitola Avenue and on-right onto Riverview Avenue.

This worked for us until Blue Gum Avenue where an on-right soon yielded to an on-left onto Riverview Drive. This soon became an on-right onto Oak Drive followed by an on-right onto Beverly Avenue. At Burlingame Avenue it was on-right again. Burlingame morphs into Beulah Drive which brought us to Capitola Avenue for the third time today. Worse yet, it was adjacent to the Hound Pound, AKA the damn police station. Rather rude of a hare to take us near such. Just shy of the cop shop, it was on-left into a city parking lot which would take us to Bay Avenue. On-right onto Bay soon became an on-left onto Monterey Avenue. This began a lengthy and slightly on-up which would continue until an on-right onto Elinor Street followed by an on-left onto Columbus Drive and then an on-right onto Cortez Street where we would soon view our favored BN mark which would take the troops into Cortez Park.

Our business concluded here it was on-out onto Sir Francis Avenue and on-right onto Kennedy Drive. From here it was on-down to the park and on-up Sunset Trail back to Campsite Six/Sex. Once there, Cum distributed watermelon and promised she had other things she’d like us to eat later. After everyone had a sticky face, Dung-Fu Grip cranked up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs issued this night: Broke Bench Mountain for losing track of the Hash numbers; the lazy bastards that set not so much as one rear paw upon trail; Dung-Fu Grip for commenting on how much friggin’ chalk we have and then not taking so much as one little nub on trail; dBASED celebrated his one-thousand and sixty-ninth hash with us; Flours For Anal Bum for grazing on various shrubs and grasses along trail; backsliders were busted; Cum Not for using Cold Smega’s mortal name; Hareless was awarded the Best Puff Impersonation(in absentia) for last week and Fap Jack as our birthday boy. Oh. And the hares…everyone thanked them for the scenery but little(if anything) was said about trail.

On-on-on? We were already there. Grilled cheese sandwiches and s’mores were provided. This Hash is over!

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 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-48.

By Special Permission 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 June in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe