Vittles,

Cold Smegma Kamikaze style.

Let’s begin with his promise of a ‘mystery hare’. After completing this trail, the only real mystery is whether or not there actually WAS a hare at all. Between the recycled trails and gaps in trail marker, Cold Smegma may have merely left the Mediterranean and lollygagged his way back to his house to await the pack’s arrival.

Let’s delve deeper into the mystery surrounding this trail. There was a number of ASS(Appetizer Support Station) stops promised. The only ingredient thereof that actually manifested itself was the ‘Support’ portion. This TRAIL required life support as it withered and died a well-deserved death. Starting at the Mediterranean was apparently subterfuge on the hares’ part to lull us into a sense of well-being. Sadly, gullible Surf City hashers fell for this ploy as they were people both inside and outside the building enjoying themselves. The joyous feeling would fade soon after on-out though.

There was great socializing in the Med and people jumped from group to group both inside as well as outside. Outside, however, was not especially hospitable as the June Gloom moved across the land chilling spirits. Eventually the hare appeared and said he was to be the only hare today. Whomever had agreed to be said Mystery Hare obviously withdrew their support once they were introduced to trail and witnessed first-hand the cruelty thereof. Instructions of Trail were brief and cryptic. This has always led us to believe certain aspects of trail are not finalized until the hare see whom and how many have shown for their trail. Hare away.

Due to the fact hounds were located in three different areas, the hare probably received twenty minute lead time due to how long it took to unite the pack in front of the Med for Circleup for Introductions. Once accomplished though, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain heard barks from the following hounds: Mr. Wiggly, Clearly Not A Hooker, Occasional Rapist, TIMMY!!, Fap Jack, Pink Cherry Licker, dBASED, Banana Basher, Accuprick, International House of Pussy and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Joining the pack at Beer Check was Premature Ejaculator and Just Andrew, both of Bali Hash House Harriers 2. Representing our four-legged contingency was Boulder and Junk Puncher. Pack out.

A hare arrow pointed the pod west on Center Avenue, across State Park Drive and on-left onto Las Olas Drive and on-down into Seacliff State Park. Trail meandered on-right past the RV and motorhome parking and then on-right and on-up the Beachgate Way path.

The fog pursued us up Beachgate Way and was not far behind as we went on-left onto Seacliff Drive followed by on-right onto Mar Vista Drive. By this juncture, it was determined we were galloping towards Cold Smegma’s home for a return visit. Trail took an unexpected on-left onto Cedar Street. This, however, proved to be the shortest Circle Jerk in Surf City history. At the apex of this misadventure, a person behind you could see where it started and where it rejoined trail twenty feet farther along.

Once back on Mar Vista, it was but a short jaunt to the on-left onto Spruce Street and the house Cold Smegma calls home. Here we supped with him on various vegan morsels(where was Dung-Fu Grip?) and eventually he brought out the big guns or more precisely the big porker. Yes, pork was available for those that consume such. Everyone complimented him on his food offerings but made no comment on trail. It’s not kind to bite the hand that feeds you so to speak.

After enduring one of the longest Beer Check’s in recent memory, the conversation shifted to whether to do the remainder of trail or on-in back to the start. The vast majority of the pack, dissatisfied with trail to this point, opted to head on-in and enjoy libations at the Mediterranean. Mr. Wiggly, International House of Pussy, Premature Ejaculator, Just Andrew and dBASED decided: In for a penny, in for a pound; so they decided to test themselves against the remainder of trail. While not looking forward to such, I believed I could derive some humor from this adventure so your Scribe opted to join them in this crusade.

Trail proceeded back along the on-out route of Mar Vista Drive before making an on-right onto Sea Ridge Road. A check(with no flour for marking) at a road on-left leading into a large apartment complex proved problematic. There seemed to be a rather large gap between the check and the first mark. However, realizing both roads eventually came to McGregor Drive, eventually the mob migrated there and discovered marker pointing on-left and over Highway 1. Let the Death March begin.

Once across Highway 1, trail proceeded to Soquel Drive where an on-right was dictated. This eventually took the troops to an on-right on-down onto Spreckles Drive, under Highway 1 and then take the next on-right to begin the strenuous on-up of Seacliff Drive East. After regaining our breath, we took an on-left onto Seacliff Drive. Seacliff Drive wanders long and aimlessly towards Monterey Bay and then(thankfully) curves on-right once reaching the cliff towering over Seacliff State Beach. Farther along Seacliff, we were treated to another Circle Jerk on-left into a field and parking lot for the beach. The only mercy here is that it was scenic and partway across the field, we could hear the raucous laughter of the pack assembled nearby. We had survived.

Once the DFL Eagles had arrived, Accuprick cranked up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this night: the hashers that visited Accuprick’s infamous Shed for some whisky; backsliders were busted; Mr. Wiggly for breaking a chair at Beer Check; Occasional Rapist was awarded the hashit and Accuprick celebrated an analversary. Oh, yeah, the damned hare. Everyone gave Cold Smegma kudos for the tasty treats at Beer Check but kindly avoided any comments on his trail. Or lack thereof.

This prompted Accuprick to declare and end to Hash 1195 and I hereby do the same for this Trash.

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

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

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with the 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 1195.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Ahoy,

Or should I exclaim ‘a ho!’ That may well describe last week’s hare-pair in a nutshell. dBASED and (current & second) wife Occasional Rapist led the litter from Brady’s Yacht Club past the ‘other’ Yacht Club and then on-down to the Small Craft Harbor locally referred to as the Yacht Harbor. We climaxed on a visit to the elegant yacht belonging to Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose.

While this may sound picturesque and exciting, between the start and the climax was a lot of dreary, nerve-wracking territory. Your Scribe will apologize in advance for dragging you around Lower Seabright through the scenic and less scenic areas thereof but the warning must become permanent pertaining to the partnering of Occasional Rapist and dBASED. I will mention they were accompanied by faithful canine companion Junk Puncher but he will follow anyone that fills his feed bowl and was not a completely willing confederate in this misadventure.

So, there we were,(there we were) filling the outdoor drinkin’ area at Brady’s Yacht Club with half the pack socializing and the other half with their eyes glued to the huge outdoor flat screen TV watching the Golden State Warriors attempt to close out the NBA Finals and garner their fourth title in eight years. Both halves shared the common ground of imbibing though.

This hash had the theme of ‘Nauti Yachty’. I must admit the hares got ‘nauti’ but it was not the pleasurable experience being ‘nauti’ can be. That’s a completely different take on being naughty. For further info on THAT particular variety of naughtiness, I would advise consulting Pee Skool.

Be that as it may, eventually the GM’s were able to drag a thoroughly-engrossed dBASED away from the game and listen as Occasional Rapist delivered Instructions of Trail. I still do not know if they were MEANT to be rambling or whether that’s just the way Occasional Rapist speaks. dBASED just stood there smiling. Okay, the hares are away so we can return to more important endeavors. Unable to postpone the inevitable any longer, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for and received a Circleup for Introductions and consequently heard from the following hounds: Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Clearly Not A Hooker, Just Foot Pussy, Bacon Queef, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Under Where?, Pee Skool, Dung-Fu Grip, Snake Me Anywhere, Steamy Baanorrhea, Just Jenna, Accuprick, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Bestiality Interruptus, My Little Bony and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our four-legged contingency was represented by Wobbles and Spott’d Dick. The stage is set for a play in one huge act, let the game begin.

We exited the parking lot behind Brady’s and were pointed on-left onto Cypress Avenue and used it to it’s end point at East Cliff Drive. An on-left there brought us to Seabright Avenue where an on-right was indicated. Seabright goes no further than the cliffs overlooking Seabright State Beach so there were turned on-left onto the remnants of East Cliff Drive that were not devoured by Monterey Bay prior to the building of the jetty at the Small Craft Harbor. There is a narrow, rut and pot-hole filled driveway, and I use that word in the loosest definition thereof, traversing on-left from East Cliff splitting the difference between Second and Third avenues. Let the Circle Jerk begin. This took us all the way to Marine Parade which, incidentally, is directly across Seabright from Brady’s. It was on-right onto Marine Parade and past Third Avenue to then on-right onto Fourth Avenue and pass that OTHER Yacht Club mentioned earlier. This brought us back to Atlantic where we were directed on-left and on-down to the Small Craft Harbor. These hares can’t seriously believe anyone will swim the channel I hope. Ah, yes, the Water Taxi. The Water Taxi, in case you do not know, runs Thursday through Sunday until Labor Day weekend. Try it sometime, it’s a fun, beautiful and FREE excursion. We waited for quite a while on AA Dock near the original location of Aldo’s Restaurant for the boat to appear.

Eventually it sailed into port and we all clambered aboard for the quick trip across the harbor. Some antics performed on this seafaring voyage by Wobbles would earn her hash name for her. More on that later though. Once disembarked, we turned on-right through the parking lot for the Crow’s Nest and then on-left to resume our jaunt along East Cliff Drive. A short distance along, trail turned the troops on-left onto Assembly Way and one block later on-right onto Alpine Street. Many years ago, the Seventh Avenue end of Alpine Street was closed to vehicles. A pedestrian-only path leads to Seventh Avenue where we were coerced into undertaking the incredibly dangerous crossing of Seventh without benefit of a crosswalk. Miraculously, all avoided getting killed and continued on Alpine to Eighth Avenue and on-right back to East Cliff Drive.(again) An on-left was followed by a quick on-left onto Ninth Avenue which was followed by a quick on-right off road onto a locals-only trail beside Schwan Lake. This continued a while past the origin of the name for Rubik’s Pube’s dog, Swamp Rat. After viewing the backside of dozens of homes, we came to Tenth Avenue and were pointed on-left onto Delores Street. This brought us (back) to Seventh and this time were blessed with the grace of an authentic crosswalk. At Sixth Avenue the promised Turkey/Eagle split manifested itself. The Eagle trail appears it will not be much fun so let’s stick with the Turkey trotters tonight.

We continued along Delores until Lake Avenue where we went on-right to Eaton Street. While approaching the bridge over the harbor, we noted the Eagles passing over the bridge. The Turkeys, however, were directed under the bridge and to the top of the east side of the harbor. Rumor Central contends the Eagles made their way up the Seabright area and into Fredrick Street Park and on-down to the harbor again. Once the clan was at the top of the harbor, the BN mark was observed and directed one and all out onto J Dock and the the opulent yacht owned by Broke Bench Mountain and Cumz Out My Nose. Here we found munchies and drinks to keep us happy for quite a while. As a matter of fact, it was well past sundown when the GM’s finally told us to pack it in and pack it up and migrate to the parking lot on Watson Street across from Day’s Market.

Once safely covered by darkness, RA Accuprick started his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this session: Occasional Rapist fer her birthday; co-hare dBASED for leaving his flour bag on the dock; Wobbles, who shook violently on the Water Taxi ride across the harbor, became Daddy’s Little Vibrator; Cold Smegma Kamikaze honored for completing 150 hashes with us; the hares for their nauty/nautical theme; Princess Di(arrhea) for taking the Water Taxi all the way to Beer Check and dBASED was awarded the Hashit for leaving his flour bag on the dock. Oh, yeah. The accursed hares. The only compliment I heard was the pack wishing when they fell in the harbor that they would drown quickly and painlessly.

After dispensing with the hare-pair, Accuprick declared this hash being over and I do hereby declare this Trash over as well.

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

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

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Redux,

Rainbow Butthole attempted to redeem herself after the tragic events of Hash 1192 in Scotts Valley last week by being a repeat offender hare. She even requested previous co-hare My Sister’s Dildo accompany her. However, upon seeing the chosen route, Dildo feigned illness and withdrew her name from the hare-trio listing. That should have served as a warning to us. However, sadly, half-minds took no note of the change and were blindly led like lambs to the slaughter.

Festivities were strong this week and were enhanced by the return of long ago hashers Choka-cola and (current) husband Hairy Potter. These two fine representatives of Hashdom took a few years away from the game to spawn and have now passed temporary care of their progeny to one of their parents who lives nearby allowing them to return to their rollicking days of yesteryear. It was also of note Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy returned to the fold after an extended absence. They have recently completed salvaging a deteriorating abode from the scrap heap and reside within courtesy of the attached unit for which they receive an exorbitant sum of money monthly.

The Blue Lagoon consists of a number of different rooms, dance venues and a pool table. None of these did we visit today. We had no reason to go further than the first bar we came to.

We were staging our own Pride Parade so the attire was varied but was also, as is typical for Surf City, bizarre bordering on outlandish. I suggest visiting with the Flash as you will not believe any description I care to render. Well, it’s quite a spell past the advertised 6:33 hares-out time,I fear something has gone amiss even prior to beginning this hash. Cum You Will Not is present(and drinking heavily) and faithful companion animal Spott’d Dick is at her side as always but the second and third hares are AWOL. Ah, Rainbow Butthole has just arrived and is sweating as if she’s just pre-laid the entirety of trail. With more experience she’ll learn to pre-lay well in advance of on-out time and then such behavior will be more difficult to prove. But now she says My Sister’s Dildo failed to meet her at Beer Check location so she had to run all the way on-in. We now know Beer Check is more than a block or two away. Rainbow was quick to deliver Instructions of Trail and made them mercifully brief as no one believes a word she says anyway. Quick though she was, it’s such a late hour by now that many of the pack are too intoxicated to WALK, let alone RUN. Hares away.

The obligatory 15 minute lead time was passed walking some of the hounds around in hopes of reviving them. This ploy was met with limited success. After the allotted time, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for and got a Circleup for Introductions and elicited responses from the following hounds: Baker’s Dozen’t, TIMMY!!, Chippin’ Ballz, Virgin Scott, Just Kamryn, Pink Cherry Licker, Clearly Not A Hooker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Bacon Queef, Just Foot Pussy, Occasional Rapist, Hairy Potter, Choka-cola, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged contingency was Boulder and Junk Puncher. Spott’d Dick was co-haring. On-out!

A hare arrow pointed the pod north on Pacific though there was some initial confusion as some wondered if it was a residual marking from the Chalk Talk given Virgin Scott. No matter, off we went. Pacific was abused to it’s ending point where it was determined something had gone wrong. A brief backtrack found marker pointing the pod onto Plaza Lane and coming to Cedar Street. Here we went on-right and on-right again at Mission Street. Now we’re standing waiting for the all clear signal to cross Mission and turn on-right onto Water Street. A few of the braver (read: foolish) dashed across Water Street at various points other than the pedestrian crossings. It was then on past River Street and continued until Reed Way where the promised Turkey/Eagle split manifested itself. I’m guessing the Eagle takes Berkeley Way to North Branciforte. There’s some elegant homes along this street, let’s Eagle today.

It was so done, the Eagles took Berkeley Way to North Branciforte where they rejoined the Turkeys and both clans continued along North Branciforte. This lasted until Keystone Avenue where an on-right was dictated followed by another on-right onto Poplar Avenue. This was another boring, straight stretch of concrete which took us across Water Street and then across Soquel Avenue. A quick on-left and on-right put us on Darwin Street. When Darwin ceases at Gault Street, the litter was led on-right and to the beautifully remodeled home of Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy, AKA Slum Landlords. Yes, they’ve evolved into capitalists. Reputedly, there was to be a Liquor Check here but none manifested it’s presence in the brief time I spent there.

We moved on. At Seabright, trail turned on-left and past the (now) attractive house where Puff resided for 40 years. At Broadway, trail went on-right to Pine Street where we were directed on-left. Pine was used until Pleasant Street where we were led on-right to Caledonia and an on-left to Peck Terrace and across to Ocean View Way and then on-left into Ocean View Park. Beer Check location?

No such luck. The park was probably deemed too scenic for our dastardly duo of hares. We traipsed directly through the park, on-down to East Cliff Drive and on-left to undertake the on-up to the top of the hill just for the pleasure of taking the on-right and on-down to the trestle towering over the mighty San Lorenzo River. This put us in the massive Boardwalk parking lot. After some aimless wandering we discovered marker on Third Street. We tip-toed quietly through Beach Flats along Third Street and were soon treated to Beer Check just prior to Riverside Avenue. A substantial percentage of passing cars slowed to view this interesting sight. Thinking that soon one of these vehicles may exhibit that dreaded black and white paint scheme, we concluded our business here rather quickly and undertook the remainder of trail. There seems to have been a number of options, or at least a number of them created. I discovered some chalk on Raymond Street followed by an on-right onto Leibrandt Avenue. This led to Laurel Street Extension and then onto the river levee. This dangerous path would not end until the top floor of the River Street car park.

Once reassembled and beer in hand, Accuprick turned on his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of what transpired once that machine was up to operating temperature: the Turkeys that inadvertently ended up on the second Eagle trail were mocked; Cold Smegma Kamikaze who unknowingly short-cutted to the site of Religion; backsliders were punished, Virgin Scott was welcomed; Cold Smegma was awarded the Hashit and an announcement pertaining to next week’s hash was made. And the hares…Rainbow Butthole, Cum You Will Not and Wines Like A Bitch acting as stand-in for My Sister’s Dildo. There was some nice scenery, that was about it. On-on-on was held at Woodstock Pizza and those present participated in Thursday Night Trivia and considering they missed the first two rounds, made a quite acceptable showing…even drunk as they were!

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

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

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Greetings,

And welcome to Hotel Hell courtesy of Rainbow Butthole, My Sister’s Dildo and Wines Like A Bitch. They chose the Sheraton as Point A for their trail most likely due to the fact they did not wish any of their friends in Felton to see them being hashers. Right down Scotts Valley Drive is favorite Steel Bonnet Brewing. Why did we not start there? Well, the logical explanation is our hare-trio frequents that establishment and, again, did not wish to be seen with hashers and as they will never be staying at the Sheraton, it was a safe place and would allow them to retain their dignity.

So, that explains the bizarre starting point. However, even days after completing this trail, I am unable to explain trail itself, much less their motivation behind such a dastardly deed. This trail featured more hills than the Pike’s Peak Hill Climb. At least the people participating in that sporting event get to drive. So, this explains the motivations behind where we began this fiasco from but leaves open the thoughts going through the half-minds of our trio of terror. That will be left up to the privacy of your own thoughts to suss.

The pack straggled in slowly and that includes your Scribe whom does not know the difference between a Hilton and a Sheraton. Once fully assembled and only slightly behind the announced start time, Rainbow Butthole made an attempt at Instructions of Trail. While not especially informative, her soliloquy may actually have comprised the most successful aspect of this trail. She made a number of promises about trail. Sadly, I have come to the conclusion Rainbow Butthole has never made a promise she couldn’t break. Hares off.

The next fifteen minutes were passed amiably residing in lounge chairs on the veranda at the Sheraton. No wait staff though, we had to hump our own drinks from the bar. I assume business is not booming at this particular time of year.

When we absolutely positively could not postpone any longer, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from the following hounds: Dung-Fu Grip, Baker’s Dozen’t, Rubik’s Pube, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Pink Cherry Licker, Man AIDS, Womb With A View, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing the four-leg contingency was Junk Puncher and Boulder. There’s your cast of characters, let’s see what they do this evening.

The first hundred yards of trail was rather strange. We sneaked off the deck down the back stairs that led, basically speaking, to the dumpster. There we encountered Broke Bench Mountain, AKA Scrooge, attempting to salvage a decade-old cooler that Beermeister TIMMY!! had decided was no longer worth repairing.

While that was a rather bizarre sight, far worse awaited us on this trail we were to learn. After that interesting sight, we turned on-right and came to Scotts Valley Drive. A solved check here turned the troops on-left to begin a rather dreary stretch of concrete terminated by one of the two promised Turkey/Eagle splits. Let’s on-left with the Eagles down Carbonero Way. Just after crossing Bean Creek, the pod was pointed on-right into a group of businesses. At the very end of the parking lot was another bizarre sight.

It did not take long to determine the hares’ laughter was due to our crossing Bean Creek again…in the water this time though. It was, mercifully, a short visit and we emerged into a parking lot and made our way back to Scotts Valley Drive and went on-left. We continued on this dreary stretch until just passed Malone’s Grille where an arrow pointed us on-left onto Oak Creek Boulevard to begin the first of a number of on-ups. This street curves on-right and to a gate presumably to prevent short-cutters from tearing through this residential area. What it was NOT able to stop was our hares from staging a Liquor Check.

Leaving Liquor Check we continued along Oak Creek Blvd….and continued climbing. Oak Creek eventually crested and then turned on-right to begin a on-down equivalent to all our on-ups combined. It was damn steep in other words. This dumped us onto Glen Canyon Road where we went on-right to Mount Hermon Road where an on-left was dictated. This was taken ON-UP (again) to an on-right onto La Cuesta Drive and…another…on-up. After dealing with that, the litter was led on-right onto Quarterhorse Lane. (where did THAT name come from?) A short jaunt later we went on-right on Arabian Way. (another horse reference?) This was possibly the only wise decision our hares made, had they gone on-left they would have come into the sights of not one, not two, but THREE police cars. (this week’s featured picture)

Arabian Way will eventually curve a few times and then put you muzzle-to-muzzle with Hocus Pocus Park. We enjoyed a stroll though the park and then made an on-right onto Whispering Pines Drive. Whispering Pines morphs into Scotts Valley Drive after crossing Mount Hermon Road. Well, at least we’re finally headed towards home and are done with on-ups. Not too far along Scotts Valley Drive an arrow led the litter on-left and into a small park surrounding City Hall…and the Police Station, AKA the Hound Pound. Much fun and frivolity ensued as the hares had a number of games planned and cupcakes celebrating Wines Like a Bitch’s birthday. The Flash will chronicle these antics better than any Scribe would ever be able to. Darkness has overtaken us so we undertook the trip on-in to a parking lot beside the Sheraton for Religion.

Once ensconced atop the beer trough, Dung-Fu Grip lit the Religion candle. Here’s a sampling of down-downs, both justified and unjustified, issued the evening: Dung-Fu Grip for drinking an NA Guinness(why would such even be made?!?), our visitor from San Diego was welcomed, Baker’s Dozen’t and Occasional Rapist for losing things on trail, Puff for going to the wrong hotel, Wines Like A Bitch for his birthday, Clearly Not A Hooker for completing 25 trail with us. And the hares…(and the hares). They received kudos for Beer Check antics but no compliment on trail. Just seeing them again made the RA ill so he called for an end to this hash and I hereby do the same for this Trash.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events though possibly not as they actually occurred. Do not allow the profound to be the enemy of the interesting.

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

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Greater Purpose,

That was Point A for Hash 1190, certainly NOT a term applicable to what our hare-pair had in mind for us. You may recall Courtesy Flush’s last visit to this area, we narrowly averted a loss of life that particular time as the tide swept two harriers and one dog off the rocks and out to sea. We were promised such would not reoccur this time. (Hares lie though)

We convened at Greater Purpose Brewing and immediately commandeered an area where sol could shine upon us.

Attendance looked promising, especially considering who the hares were. The outdoor area began to fill as zero hour approached. Not long past the promised time, the hares strode to the front of the pack and delivered a detailed Instructions of Trail. The urn containing our elixir of life would be buried beneath the sand and mine sweepers would be provided to allow us to excavate it. Or something like that. After we heard this, we stood mouth agape and heard none of the other details tossed our way. Let’s pretend we did not hear such and continue socializing. Hares out.

Little if any discussion of impending trail were spoken during the fifteen minute lead time. As a matter of fact, the hares declared they would not require that much time. This would indicated an unprecedented level of pre-lay in my estimation. Be that as it may, we opted not to surrender valuable drinkin’ time so the full fifteen minutes they got. As a matter of fact, when co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions, a few hounds opted to continue swilling away. Such as…

Circleup proceeded with their voices being heard from afar. In addition to those two hoodlums, these other hounds barked as well: Steamy Baanorrhea, Occasional Rapist, Womb With A View, My Sister’s Dildo, TIMMY!!, Banana Basher, Leaky Rubber, Wicked Retahted, Clearly Not A Hooker, Accuprick, Cum You Will Not, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Representing our four-legged hound contingency was Junk Puncher, Spott’d Dick and Boulder. We have marshaled our forces for the coming battle, time to on-out.

Trail exited the parking lot heading east to 17th Avenue. There we were turned on-left and away we went. And went. And went. Finally we were turned on-left onto the road leading to Simpkins Swim Center. Once safely past not one but two Sheriff vehicles we were pointed on-left into the Schwan Lake area of Twin Lakes State Beach. Thinking Liquor Check may be located within, everyone took the known circle jerk to the lake and back up the other side. Partway along this trail, a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left into a second portion of the area. Marker again pointed the pack on-left but someone had placed a pack arrow ignoring the marker. Normally, this would be viewed as a kindness from FRB’s to those farther back. Sadly, those that followed the short-cutting arrow bypassed Liquor Check.

Trail proceeded to the tracks and turned on-left. After almost half a mile of riding the rails, we arrived at 7th Avenue and the promised Turkey/ Eagle split. The Turkeys are going on-left. It’s a beautiful day, let’s fly with the Eagles. Eagles went on-right and discovered a check at 7th and Mello Lane.

On-left onto Mello would be the correct choice. (Trivia: Mello Lane was once home to Apple Bobber) Mello Lane ends at a staircase that will deposit you in the upper harbor. There it was on-left and around the horn of the harbor and down the other side all the way to the Murray Street Bridge. There it was across the harbor and on-right onto Lake Avenue. For some good scenery, the hares directed the Eagles to on-right and on-down to the walkway beside the harbor then on-left in front of the Crow’s Nest, snake around harbor beach and then on-right onto East Cliff Drive. This is a stunningly dangerous section of road fit for neither pedestrian nor bicyclist due to it’s narrowness and close proximity to speeding tourists. Mercifully, the first available on-right, that being Prospect Street, was taken.

Prospect was taken until an on-right on 12th Avenue which eventually plops you onto the sand. This is when the search for the cooler began.

Eventually the cooler was collected and the celebration began. Once the DFL’s arrived the party was relocated to Black’s Beach and, serendipitously, a group leaving bequeathed us their already-flaming fire. Once reassembled, Accuprick fired up his Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: TIMMY!! for piloting the beer wagon full speed ahead over a speed bump and grabbing some major air, IHOP for finding the beer on the beach, Clearly Not A Hooker for attending the Mount Madonna campout, Wicked Retahted for suggesting we throw metal stakes into the fire(he thought they were meat steaks), analversaries and those that missed/skipped Liquor Check. Oh, yeah, the hares.

This was sufficient cause for Accuprick to declare an end to this Hash and I hereby do the same for this Trash.

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

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

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the twenty-fifth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with a respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe