Puffathalon,

While I sheepishly admit a small modicum of flattery at Courtesy Flush’s continuing biannual event; I hereby wish it known Puff himself had nothing to do with the planning and much less the execution of this trail. As a matter of fact, now that the word ‘execution’ has been bandied about, this is an act I would recommend the Hare Raiser perform on Courtesy Flush should he ever make the (foolish) suggestion he be allowed to schedule Puffathalon IV. While this may sound unusually cruel, what follows should illustrate my reasoning.

We began at a favorite, Brady’s Yacht Club, on Lower Seabright. While the inside is frequently stuffed, the outdoor area is expansive. The pack commandeered a large table and began the assembly process and attending to the requisite gossip like who did what to whom…and for how long. Hugh Heifer was seen handing Jersey Lunchbox a twenty-spot and thanking him for Services Rendered. I always believed Jersey was an intelligent man but had no idea he was an accomplished gigolo to boot. After paying Jersey, Hugh and Cum,U Will Not! conducted a safety meeting to discuss various issues they wished no one else to hear. TIMMY!! sported an excellent wig but said it’s length was easily surpassed by the hair growing out of his ears. Enough tall tales, let’s get back to Hashing.

With our GMs lollygagging in olde Mexico, dBASED was saddled with getting the hare on-out at a reasonable hour. He accomplished his task but this was to the dismay of Today Is Monday and Gary the Shit Stain who showed up five minutes after Instructions of Trail. They were forced to down their drinks in almost record time. The hare made statements concerning the toy dragons that would be concealed along trail and how to seek them out. He claimed to have twenty-nine of them. I wish he’d spent more on beer than those kid’s toys. There was mention of a semblance of a Turkey/Eagle split upon seeing there actually were a few Eagles in attendance. There would be a mark we seldom use, a Regroup, but it would be strategically located and it’s purpose would be clear. We could only hope. Hare-away.

The next fifteen passed uneventfully other than watching Gary and TIM chug their drinks. Upon their completing this task, acting GM dBASED called for a Circleup for Introductions which resulted in his hearing from the following: Clearly Not A Hooker, Bacon Queef, Steamy Baanorrhea, Cum,U Will Not!, Hugh Heifer, TIMMY!!, Jersey Lunchbox, Just Josh, Circle Gherkin’, Hareless, Dung-Fu Grip, Today Is Monday, Gary the Shit Stain and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week’s canine contingency consisted of Spot’d Dick, Swamp Rat, Bukkake and Bronson. Pack out.

We exited Brady’s on-left onto Cypress Avenue. Dragons began to be found almost immediately. Next was an on-right onto Doane Street followed by an on-right onto Mott Avenue. We then undertook the (very) dangerous crossing of Murray Street without benefit of a pedestrian crossing. Once across it was on-left on the railroad tracks and on-right onto Mountain View Avenue via a locals-only path through the bushes. We traveled on-up Mountain View to an on-left onto Logan Street and then making an immediate on-right into alley 1021. (Yes, many of these alleys are numbered) One alley’s length later we went on-left on Idaho Avenue and a block later on-right on Cayuga to out favorite five-way intersection.

Here we made a hard on-left onto Buena Vista Avenue to the path on-right on-down to South Branciforte Avenue, on-left on-up into Oceanview Park and then on-right on-down to East Cliff Drive. Here it was on-right a few feet and on-right into the laughingly named Jesse Street Marsh which the City filled in many decades ago. Once through here it was on-left onto Lemos Avenue and then on-right onto Ocean Street.

As we tooled along Ocean, hoping not to anger any gang members present by having donned an incorrect color, the picture below manifested itself.

It became obvious we were truly on a Courtesy Flush trail. True to his word, there was a taco truck beside trail and a few hounds partook. As if ONE was insufficient, we turned on-left at Barson Street and passed a SECOND burrito friendly business. This one contained a number of patrons as well.

A block later it was on-right onto Clay Street followed by an on-left onto Broadway. We traversed Broadway until Riverside Avenue where an on-left was dictated. Our destination soon became clear; the hacienda belonging to Clearly Not A Hooker. Yes, the LC mark was observed and it was into the backyard. That is unless your name would happen to be dBASED. He bypassed Liquor Check on a continuing quest for the dragons hidden along trail.

In Hooker’s backyard was discovered a bottle of wine. Somewhat wimpy for a Liquor Check I dare say. This will provide fodder for the cannon at Religion I imagine. After leaving here, we turned on-left onto Riverside and shortcut on-right desecrating Riverside Gardens Park with our presence. At San Lorenzo Boulevard it was on-right and then on-left onto the Laurel Street Bridge followed by an on-left onto the river levee. We soon found ourselves climbing the steps on-up to the top of Beach Hill. From there it was directly on-down to Beach Street and on-left in front of the Boardwalk. Circle Gherkin’ was stationed in front of Neptune’s Kingdom to direct us on-up to the second floor for a Guerilla Beer Check.

Once there great fun was endured. Everyone hit the pinball machines for some good fun. Soon though it became evident many hounds had begun the process of short-cutting and we would not being seeing the entire pack here. Eventually we on-outed and continued along the Boardwalk. At the trestle over the river we made a guerilla Turkey/Eagle split; turkeys taking the walkway while the eagles went directly across on the trestle.

Above we see Today Is Monday taking the impromptu Eagle trail across the river on the (unsafe) railroad trestle. The look on TIM’s face tells me he wishes he played Turkey(chicken?) tonight. He eventually did reach the other side safely. We continued along the tracks until crossing Murray Street on-right and continuing on-down to Seabright Beach. Once there we grabbed a fire pit and started one. We were later to find out it was the second fire started by our group, that will be explained during Religion.

Courtesy had done us a courtesy by providing hot dogs and marshmallows. Sadly for our non-meat eaters, the veggie dogs contained chicken pieces. Marshmallows are fine though. Once the fire was roaring Dung-Fu Grip cranked up his Religion machine. Here’s a rundown of some of the down-downs issued this night. Courtesy Flush was brought up for chatting up the security guards on the Boardwalk and warning them of our impending invasion; Hareless bailed on trail early to secure a fire pit for us, she also requested a man on the beach to light her fire, apparently he did an excellent job of lighting her fire as she was still brightly smiling; dBASED was chided for not stopping at the Guerilla Beer Check at the Boardwalk; Courtesy Flush and Clearly Not A Hooker were congratulated on attending Bay to Breakers; dBASED and Jersey Lunchbox were punished for missing/skipping Liquor Check; Cum,U Will Not! was punished for calling Jersey Lunchbox ‘Jersey Shore’ and hare Courtesy Flush was punished for serving wine at Liquor Check. Oh. The hare and his trail. There were nice things said about the Guerilla Beer Check and the food at Religion but not a kind word about trail itself. This Hash is over.

Post Script. As the Rangers were out in force and the 10PM witching hour was approaching, the usual Best Puff Costume competition was scuttled. As it is obviously impossible to perform now, I have formed an ad hoc committee of one…myself. I hereby declare Hareless the best Puff Impersonator. Why, you may ask? Many sported wigs, OPs and Greek fishermen caps but only Hareless took the time and trouble to find an anchor to attach to the front of her cap. She will therefore be awarded the grand prize, a $5 gift certificate for Brady’s.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. One should never allow the facts to stand in the way of a good story. Do not allow the profound to become the enemy of the interesting.

A Scribe’s sole purpose is to provide entertainment to their kennel mates. Whether or not they are successful in this endeavor is still a subject open to debate.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind that I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-47.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Flours For Anal Bum,

I suggest she be sent ‘flowers’, she should be feeling quite poorly after her most recent attempt at haring. Her first failed attempt at haring was Hash Twelve-13 out of New Bohemia. That time the then-Just Danielle blamed her trail’s failure on her co-hare Cold Smegma Kamikaze. As he was the senior hare, we accepted her explanation. THIS time, however, Cold Smegma refused to copulate with Flours and she was coerced into being the lone hare. She can no longer blame her inadequacies on poor old Cold Smegma. He was nowhere in sight this night. Details to follow.

We began our assembly process at the Crow’s Nest Beach Market. Actually, the Market is beside the harbor rather than the beach but apparently the owners did not like the sound of Harbor Market. The sun had burned through the May gloom and everyone was in good spirits as a result. This yielded much frivolity being felt and an almost complete disregard for the fact Flours would be the lone hare on only her second attempt. Failure to sense impending doom has always been a curse of we half-minds.

Things even began shaky when she said she was leaving but requested a few extra minutes as she needed to visit the ladies room first. Instructions of Trail were then requested which yielded nothing more than, I’m leaving!

Everyone chuckled just long enough to allow Flours to exit before realizing that actually WAS all she had to say and was truly gone leaving the litter in the lurch.

After looking around at each other it was determined we were probably no worse off without Instructions of Trail due to the fact Flours did not really know what she was doing anyway and admitted her scouting of trail had been ‘minimal’. In her case, the word ‘minimal’ is most likely synonymous with the word ‘non-existent’. Everyone returned to their drink and did not further concern themselves with this flagrant abuse of the long held Surf City tradition.

After the fifteen minute lead time(plus potty time) acting GM dBASED requested a Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: Bacon Queef, TIMMY!!, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Cum, U Will Not!, Pink Cherry Licker, Boneless Shelter, Steamy Baanorrhea, Circle Gherkin’, Just Brian, Just Josh, Jersey Lunchbox, Clearly Not A Hooker, Dung-Fu Grip and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week’s canine contingency consisted of Spot’d Dick and Happy.

Trail took off in front of the Crow’s Nest and along East Cliff Drive until making an on-left onto Ninth Avenue but made an immediate on-right into some tall shiggy.

While we have traversed this area before, it has never been this dense. This year’s rains and, apparently, the lack of anyone willing to maintain it, has made this a challenging place.

The only thing going for us was the absence of poison oak or major encroachmenti by briars.

Also, mercifully, it was late enough in the day that the bees had abandoned their pollen gathering so no one was attacked.

Not far past the spot where Swamp Rat received his name, the gang emerged onto Delores Street followed by an on-right onto Ninth Avenue. Ninth was used until it’s termination at Eaton Street. There it was on-left and past the former abode of Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain. Upon reaching Seventh Avenue we were pointed on-right.

This lasted but a short distance until the accursed railroad tracks were reached and an arrow led the litter on-right to begin a long and boring traipsing of the tracks. This lasted until the first possible on-right into Schwan Lake Park. As none of these trails have names, what follows is a vague description of what we were subjected to. We followed the first trail and discovered Liquor Check. Again, it was one of those cheap one-shot plastic bottles. Yuk. After that it was a quick on-left to another trail and eventually on-down to the lake itself. There were more twists and turns in the open space until every trail, legal or not, had been trounced. We rounded one last curve and went on-up to an on-left into a field of tall grass, most likely tick-infested. Eventually we were pointed out of the area and across the railroad tracks onto El Dorado Avenue. Never has so small an area been used/abused(you make the call) to such a mind-numbing extent.

When El Dorado reached Brommer Street, an arrow turned the troops on-left. This began a long and uneventful stretch of macadam which eventually took us across Seventh Avenue and on-down to the Upper Harbor. We motivated along the harbor until near the Murray Street bridge where we discovered the Beermeister and the hare. Apparently, our hare was unaware a Beer Check was a necessary component of the Hash. She believed Liquor Check would suffice. While she has now been corrected, the damage was done and hounds headed for the Beer Trough in dismay. The only beneficial aspect to this tragedy is we were conveniently in the correct location for Religion.

So as Beer Check continued unabated, Religious Adviser Dung-Fu Grip began the festivities by informing the pack he began trail late due to watch a pornographic sight, a pair of pigeons fornicating. Yes, just prior to leaving the start, he, Princess and Thmp-Thmp watched as pigeons pummeled. An intriguing start, if somewhat off-color, to Religion. We moved on from there to Jersey Lunchbox snaring the hare; dBASED claiming a snare but he shortcut so much he was awarded a punitive down-down; Just Josh was mocked for applying so much sunscreen it resembled jizz; there was a mention of The Catch and Dung-Fu Grip was punished for not knowing it’s origin. In his defense it was decades prior to his birth: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Catch_(American_football) Cum, U Will Not! was mocked for carrying an entire mini-bar in her bag, Flours For Anal Bum was mocked for losing her phone on trail, it was mercifully retrieved by a mortal who brought it to her at the harbor; flours remained at the altar for not knowing what bukkake is which is what Clearly Not A Hooker’s dog was named last week. And lastly, Flours STILL remained at the altar as she was punished for laying a shitty trail. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at Engfer’s Pizza and was attended by Jersey Lunchbox, TIMMY!!, dBASED, Clearly Not a Hooker, Just Josh and Circle Gherkin’. On-on-on-on was at the Jury Room and saw Dung-Fu Grip, Snake Me Anywhere and Hand Over Pissed. Wait! Two of those hashers weren’t even at the damn 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 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-46.

By Special Permission of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, this Hash Trash has been compiled and priinted 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 May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3

The promise of another golden Summer,

Almost destroyed by this trail. Banana Basher and Steamy Baanorrhea chose the Crepe Place for our start…again. Their last attempt at starting here was foiled by a burst water pipe. This time it was our hope for a good trail that was ruptured. Clarification below.

The pack began haphazardly assembling at the Crepe Place, the Creepy Place in hash parlance, and soon discovered we were taking turf from a band that was to perform later. I do not know how many musical members there were but there were certainly a lot of people connected with this group. We were treated to a few lurid tales of Hash Springs by Clearly Not A Hooker whom of course denied any participation in the depravity that Hash Springs has become known for. I DO, however, recall seeing a picture indicating the monetary sum that would be required to get Clearly Not A Hooker to delete the word ‘Not’ from her Hash handle. Banana Basher regaled us with stories of his slothfulness…again. Steamy Baanorrhea arrived just late enough to convince us he had prelaid the Turkey Trail for Banana’s convenience. Circle Gherkin’ found himself coerced into making excuses (again) for Just Megan’s absence. There were other infractions of Hash protocol but Scribe has embarrassed enough of his kennel mates for this week. Movin’ on.

Not long past the advertised time the hare-pair strode near the door and delivered Instructions of Trail. There were promises made which turned out to be more like possibilities than truths. Then again, this is par for the course when these two jokers are our hares. Hares out.

The next fifteen minutes passed as usual, clearing up bar tabs, but this time in addition to that was avoiding the burgeoning band that began to setup on the stage. After the fifteen passed, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain pushed the pack out the door and onto the street for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in their hearing from: Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Clearly Not A Hooker, Flours For Anal Bum, dBASED, TIMMY!!, Circle Gherkin’, Snake Me Anywhere, Cum,U Will Not!, Bacon Queef and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Joining us (very) late on trail would be Dung-Fu Grip. Pack out.

A check directly in front of the restaurant was solved and it was west on Soquel Avenue to a check at Cayuga. This one took a little time but was solved and we continued along Soquel to the next check at Pine Street. Soon solved, it was on-left onto Pine and then on-right at the next street, Hanover. Just prior to South Branciforte Avenue we tripped over what is undoubtedly the most poorly hidden Liquor Check in Surf City history. Right there, sitting on the sidewalk with large while letters pointing towards it, was a bottle of Four Roses Whisky. It’s nothing shy of amazing it was still there by the time the FRBs arrived. Everyone stopped to stare, NO ONE stopped to partake. We moved on.

It was on-left on South Branciforte to Broadway and across where the Turkey/Eagle split was viewed. Scribe, having seen hounds turn on-left, was unaware of this and short-cutted across Broadway and followed the Turkeys. That was probably a wise decision though anyway considering how mean Steamy is as an Eagle hare. One block later, Turkeys turned on-right onto Caledonia Street followed a number of blocks later by an on-left onto Pleasant Street. Pleasant is one block long and then it was on-right onto Pine Street. Pine Street brings you to the used-and-abused 5 way intersection of Buena Vista, Pine and Cayuga. Clinton Street is but a half block away as well. Trail was located directly across and continuing on Pine and then on-left onto Seabright Avenue. Seabright was utilized until Windsor Street where it was on-left one block to Cayuga where our highly favored BN mark was observed. An on-right onto Cayuga yielded a Beer Check at the home of Bailas Con Burros, whom joined us, and her (current) husband Banana Basher.

Here we see the pack coagulating in the driveway of Bailas Con Burros and Banana Basher. This was done mainly because it’s relatively safe and the hares are too cheap to fund an authentic Beer Check. At least the flowers were beautiful. From here it was on-in to the parking lot behind Lillian’s Italian Kitchen where Religion has been staged multiple times prior. Just as we neared the parking lot, Dung-Fu Grip pedaled up on his bike. He was either working in his bar or wise enough to completely avoid this trail.

Once reassembled in the parking lot, dBASED fired up his Religion machine. Here’s a sample of what transpired during this Religion session: TIMMY!! whom completely missed Liquor Check prominently displayed on a public sidewalk; those that missed Beer Check; Snake Me Anywhere for enjoying FRB status for once; Circle Gherkin’ for demonstrating chivalry on trail; those that did not attend Red Dress and auto-hashers were punished. Scribe must now relate one of the rudest namings we have held in a number of years. For reasons Scribe will leave to your sordid little half-minds, Clearly Not a Hooker’s dog Marissa will henceforth be known as Bukkake Dog. ‘Nuff said THERE! Oh, yeah, the hare-pair. Everyone agreed it was nice to visit with Bailas Con Burros but no compliments were given pertaining to trail. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at Taqueria Santa Cruz and Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, TIMMY!! and Broke Bench Mountain attended.

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. Don not allow the profound to become the enemy of the interesting.

A Scribe’s sole purpose is to provide entertainment to their kennel mates. Whether or not they are successful in this endeavor is still a subject open to debate.

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind that i recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-45.

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

Submitted with al respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Do not dread-the-red,

There’s nothing to fear and everything to love about this annual get-together of ours. The most notable aspect is this is a benefit for WomenCare, an organization that assists women undergoing cancer treatment. As an addition to this, the recommended age for women to begin getting mammograms has been reduced from 50 to 40 and to be performed biannually. Excuse the digression, back to the Hash.

We assembled in the same location as we did for AGM, Vino-by-the-Sea, on the second floor of the wharf. However, in November it was seasonably cool; today it was heavy mist/light drizzle. Quite unusual for May in these here parts. Quite unwelcome too, I might add. It insured everyone would stay crowded in the venue though. Lots of hyper-socializing occupied the eleven o’clock hour. Many of these kennel mates have not been with us since last year’s Red Dress.

Everyone caught up with the events in the lives of others just in time to hear Instructions of Trail from co-hares TIMMY!! and Circle Gherkin’. They were not especially memorable, much as trail would prove to be, so most hounds completely ignored them. That includes your Scribe. Hares away.

The next fifteen minutes or so were spent pouring glasses down our gullets and asking the gods of the Hash to show mercy upon their loyal half-minded minions and cease the water falling from the sky. Our pleas went unanswered. When Circleup for Introductions was requested by co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain, the rain still feel upon the little noggins of the following: Shanghiney, Dung-Fu Grip, Cum,U Will Not!, Banana Basher, Bailas Con Burros, Hareless, Suck Cochran, Worm, Shallow Hole, Chopped Liver, Ramrod, Rubik’s Pube, Steamy Baanorrhea, Pink Cherry Licker, Fap Jack, Baker’s Dozen’t, Stickless, Shit Faced, Just Chip, Missile Anus, Dual Tools Up My Ass, Cumfart Zone, Whorebraham Lincoln, Sperm Donor, Flours For Anal Bum, My Little Bony, Waxi-pad, Automated Penis Mover, Cheese Nips, Apple Bobber, Fuck Cancer, Skid Mark, E=MC Fucked, No Film and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency was (illegally) represented by Shitty Cat, Scratch and Sniff and (cleverly concealed) Bronson. Pack out.

The flock fought wind and rain to make landfall only to find a hare arrow directing us on-right to the opposite side of the wharf and then on-down onto the Main Beach. There’s no more detestable medium for motion than sand. This is even more true when it’s windy and raining. If this is to set the tempo for this trail, it’s a tune I’d rather not play.

We staggered across the sand, heads bowed, until reaching the game building. Well, except for Skid Mark who went low on the beach to reach hard packed sand then was isolated from the main body of the pack by a small stream which required her going far out of her way to rejoin her kennel mates. Once on the Boardwalk we squinted to find the small marks pointing the pod forward. The Boardwalk security guards frown on marks fearing they may be gang related. Well, the ARE gang related but we are the most innocuous of entities. Eventually we found ourselves at the end of the Boardwalk apparently having missed a mark. We circled back towards the entrance and found chalk directing us on-down to Beach Street and on-right. As Beach Street turns on-left and morph into Third Street, the promised Turkey/Eagle split manifested itself. It’s raining, Scribe will be happy to Turkey trot today.

We transitioned onto Third Street all the way to Riverside where we went on-right and on-over the river. We continued along Riverside, which makes a bizarre ninety degree on-left and then comes to an intersection with Barson Street. Here we were directed on-left and on-up stairs to San Lorenzo Boulevard. Here we made an on-left followed by a quick on-right on-under the Laurel Street Bridge. We loped along the levee as far as Soquel Avenue where it was across the river and on-right along Front Street. At the intersection with Water Street, Mission Street and Pacific Avenue was finally glimpsed the BN mark and everyone rushed on-in to The Rush Inn.

There was quite a bit going on inside the concrete confines of the Rush Inn. There were only two regulars in attendance and they appeared nonplussed at our presence. Steamy Baanorrhea was seen attempting to explain our rather bizarre attire. It appeared to only lead to their drinking more heavily.

In case any of you wondered about the jewelry on the pool table or the glazed pottery gracing the shelf behind such, the owner dabbles in those artistic mediums and upon hearing of our impending invasion, brought them out in hopes of making some coin. I believe some hashers actually did make some purchases too. Upon the completion of our task here, it was on-down the length of Pacific Avenue and back to Point A for Religion. Once reassembled at Vino-by-the-Sea, Pink Cherry Licker and Dung-Fu Grip grabbed the reins and began their reign as RAs. Here’s a sampling of the multitude of down-downs, some justified, others not, that the co-RAs issued this day: No Film was awarded, well, the No Film Award for being the latest to show, some hashers were busted for talking in Circle, those that joined from over-the-hill, those that put not one rear upon trail, Dung-Fu Grip for getting complimented on his legs(by a male!), backsliders were punished, those that were attending their first Surf City Red Dress, those that snared a hare, Shanghiney for never using the raffle gift he won last year which was a free consultation with Suck Cochran(a lawyer), those that managed to spill beer on themselves, Dung-Fu Grip for celebrating his 10th analversary with Surf City, some Silicon Valley H3 analversaries were presented by Stickless and, but of course, the hares. The hares were told the rain was provided by the gods of the Hash to begin the desirable process of removing all evidence of this trail.

Hash business dispensed with, the face feed began. Baked potatoes with (more than) all the fixings were available in addition to the beers and wine we had been sucking up all afternoon. The weather may have been less than perfect but other than that the event most certainly was.

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-45, Red Dress 2023.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Cum You Will Not,

Lived down to her name for this Hash. There was no cum on trail. Many hashers wish they had not ‘come’ at all! Clarification to follow.

We assembled in a cold, shady and windy area of Jade Street Park. This alone should have served as a forewarning to the flock. Hounds hopped to and fro in an effort to find some sun and it’s promised warmth but were basically unsuccessful in this endeavor.

Here we see First Responders on a quest for some warmth. It was not as cold as it was windy but the source of the frigidity mattered less than the results! Additional quantities of alcoholic antifreeze will be required this day.

Eventually the entire pack assembled and huddled-in-mass but to no avail. The wind speed increased inversely proportional to the decrease in our body temperature. Our hare-pair, that of Cum You Will Not and Dung-Fu Grip, feeling as frigid as anyone, delivered Instructions of Trail relatively close to the announced time. It was stated a Turkey/Eagle split would be available as well as a Liquor Check and Beer Check. There would also be an opportunity to destroy the Death Star but you will need to be able to withstand withering fire from Storm Trooper Dung-Fu as you made you strafing run. Uh, okay. whatever that meant. Hares away.

The next shivering fifteen minutes were spent doing exactly that, shivering! Hounds were hunting for their outer garments. The only one not bouncing to build body heat probably was Hareless whom wore a Star Wars themed costume which served her ably as insulation. Not a second past the allotted fifteen minute lead time, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard cold greetings from the following: Steamy Baanorrhea, Pink Cherry Licker, Hareless, TIMMY!!, Flours For Anal Bum, Rubik’s Pube, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED, Circle Gherkin’ and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week’s canine contingency consisted of Spot’d Dick, Scratch and Sniff, Swamp Rat and Bronson. Junk Puncher is currently on vacation in New Mexico. (lucky dog!) Pack away.

We were told to return to the parking lot and there would find some markings pertaining to this trail. Once there, flour was found taking us onto 45th Avenue and soon to make an on-right onto Opal Street and one block later on-left onto 47th Avenue. Now we began diving deeply into the area of Capitola colloquially called the Jewel Box. This is due to streets named Opal, Garnet, Emerald, Topaz, Crystal, Jewel and Diamond. 47th was used until Crystal where an on-left was dictated back to 45th where we went on-right one block to Capitola Road where another on-right was bidden.

We traversed along Capitola Road until back to 47th where we were directed on-left but immediately on-right to remain on Capitola Road. This lasted until 49th Avenue where we went on-left to merge with Wharf Road. We continued along Wharf Road until taking the on-right on-down into the bowels of Rispin Mansion, across the twin bridges towering over Soquel Creek and into Peery Park and on-right to Riverview Drive. We traipsed quite a bit of Riverview before making an on-right onto Riverview Avenue followed by an on-right onto Soquel Creek Pathway. This would bring us to Stockton Avenue where it was on-left until Stockton ends at Cherry Avenue where it was on-right. Cherry would bring us to Monterey Avenue and an on-right.

We soon crossed Monterey and found the Turkey/Eagle split. The Eagles are heading up to the top of Depot Hill. Doesn’t sound like fun, Scribe will avoid that. However, not too far along Monterey, a hare arrow pointed the Turkeys on-up to join the Eagles. That horrendous set of stairs brought the Turkeys on-up. There everyone had the opportunity to destroy the Death Star by tossing a ball into a bucket while being blasted by Dung-Fu Grip from his laser cannon, AKA squirt gun. No idea what he had filled it with either. More on this during Religion. After dispensing with this fun and frivolity it was on-down the stairs and on-left to a walkway on-left above the beach into Beer and Liquor Check conveniently located right beside each other.

After these two checks were dispensed with, it was on-in back to Jade Street Park. Once there, co-RAs Pink Cherry Licker and Dung-Fu Grip begin issuing down-downs. Here’s a sampling of what they did to the pack: Rubik’s Pube for coordinating donations for the raffle for Red Dress; all that followed through with the Star Wars theme for this Hash; Best Costume Award to Cum You Will Not; Death Star destroyers Rubik’s Pube as best(but was over the line) and worst shot to Steamy Baanorrhea who hit a car parked on a nearby street(!); Hairless whom chose not to spin around as requested for the song Do You Want A Finger? And announcements and on-on-on to be at the Brit. And done. Oops, almost forgot the hare-pair. Everyone appreciated the close proximity of Beer and Liquor Check but little else. 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 remains 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-43.

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-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Monday Comes On Thursday,

Three days late for a Monday and one week late for 420. To further his sad reputation, TIM arrived well after his advertised hare-out time of 6:30. The only upside to this is the reduction in the amount of time we had to deal with him.

I know, I know. TIM is a all-around good guy and everyone likes him. The only exception may be when he hares. He said he was disappointed he could not work another thrilling adventure into Pogonip as a part of this year’s trail. He also said he even discovered a new piece of turf to introduce us to and not to worry about the fact it may involve a stint onto private property. (The hare, being the first through, always escapes, it’s the pack that has the cops called on them!)

So, let’s set the table for this (late) Four-20 Feast. We’re in Harvey West Park using a picnic area without a permit. Baseball and soccer games are surrounding us and concerned parents have fingers poised above the emergency button on the hand-held device should the pack become too rowdy. This has been designated the weekly FHAC-U trail so those jokers are here in abundance. A number of these clowns have not been viewed since last year’s Red Dress Run. That must have cured them of wishing to visit Surf City for quite a while. I can only hope they remember TIM is not a frequent hare for us and that his presence here today does not deter them from visiting with us again soon.

As mentioned, the hare showed up late but still believed he had time for a beer-and-a-bowl so it was approaching the seven o’clock hour before he opted to deliver Instructions of Trail. For a change, IoT was actually worth your time as it was stated money would be required on trail. This led one to believe a brew pub was in our immediate future. It proved true though it was not so ‘immediate’. Hare off.

The next fifteen minutes, though our hare claimed he would only require ten, was consumed with fierce socializing, renewing old acquaintances and being updated on people’s lives. All in all, a rather enjoyable and enlightening time. But as all good things must end, sadly, time for Circleup for Introductions was called for by co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain. This requested was responded to by the following hounds: Steamy Baanorrhea, Flours For Anal Bum, Cum You Will Not, Clearly Not A Hooker, Dung-Fu Grip, Rubik’s Pube, TIMMY!!, Hugh Heifer, Skid Mark, Worm, Shanghiney, Table Me, No Film, Gary the Shit Stain, Snake Me Anywhere, Please Do Me, Pink Cherry Licker, Sister Mary Orgasm, Drink and Squirt and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week was Scratch and Sniff, Spot’d Dick and Swamp Rat. Pack out.

Trail pulled the pack through the parking lot to an on-right onto Harvey West Boulevard followed by an on-right onto Coral Street. Now you may be thinking, We’re headed back towards the start, TIM would NEVER consider a trail THAT short! And you are correct, however, never underestimate the deviousness of TIM! Just as Coral turns on-right to morph into Evergreen Street, a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left and on-up the (steep) hill on a pedestrian path. This culminates at High Street. Trail was eventually located on-left and on-up the circular ramp leading to the top of the pedestrian bridge towering over Highway 1. Once across, an on-left skirted the edge of Holy Cross Church and on-right and on-down Mora Street to on-left onto River Street.

Almost immediately though we were directed across River TOWARDS the river! Once across River,(without benefit of a pedestrian safe crossing) the next on-right, Josephine Street was our destination. Josephine terminates at the river levee but that would never stop THIS hare! Across the walkway we went to plunge over the cliff on-down to the (mercifully) dry bed of the mighty San Lorenzo River.

Here’s the FRBs enjoying refreshments of a number of types on the thankfully dry bed of the river.

These thugs would hang on awaiting the arrival of the Walkers.

Then we would reluctantly on-up to the top of the levee again and on-right and back on trail.

Once back on the levee trail proceeded until the parking lot for PetSmart. There it was on-left and on-down into the park lot where the brood spread like butter. We vaguely had an idea as to which way to go and eventually enough hounds found enough marks to bring the gang back to River Street. At least this crossing of River utilized a traffic signal for our safety. Once across, it was on-right one block to Madrona Street. Once turned, our destination became clear, Woodhouse Brewing. And there we were(there we were) inside Woodhouse. And a great place it is too. You do, however, need to be a fan of IPAs as not much else exists on the menu. Food was also available at this venue. After concluding our business here, we were told more trail was to come so TIM was again allotted a small amount of lead time.

The pack returned to River Street to perform an on-left to Highway 1. This time, however, we must cross the highway itself rather than a safely elevated over-crossing. When the light said it was safe, most hashers ran faster than they had all night though knowing the grim statistics of this particular crossing. Once safety was attained, it was two blocks until an on-left directed us onto Fern Street. Just as Fern reaches the railroad tracks the BN was observed and we made the on-right on-in to Shanty Shack Brewing. Here the beer selection is more varied and everybody was able to find somebody they wanted.

Outdoor drinkin’ at Shanty Shack(colloquially called Shabby Shack) was in order on a nice and warm evening.

Flours For Anal Bum, Skid Mark, Worm and Clearly Not A Hooker discuss non-important issues.

Business completed here, it was reversing on-out to on-in to the start.

Once everyone was safely assembled and had beer-in-paw, Dung-Fu Grip grabbed the reins and reeled in offenders for their deserved down-downs. Here’s a sampling of what he did to his kennel mates this eve: Broke Bench Mountain because Scratch and Sniff managed to poop not once but twice along trail; Cum You Will Not for asking at Woodhouse, How many are going in the rear?, we did not inquire as to whose rear; Flours For Anal Bum for looking for her glasses until someone laughingly told her, They’re on your head!(who said head?); Rubik’s Pube for louldly exclaiming at Woodhouse, I’m only here for the meat!(did her husband know that?); Worm who was so intoxicated he had to be pushed along trail in a shopping cart by overworked, underpaid harriettes; visitors were recognized and Sister Mary as a backslider. We were worried the gate would be locked so….oh. The damn hare. We thanked TIM for haring and the beautiful stop in the river bed and the two, count-em-two, Beer Checks but little was said about the trail between those three events. Back to the feared closing of a gate locking our vehicles in the park, Religion was dismissed and everyone trotted to their cars and exited safely. 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-42.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen