Why postpone?

Jersey Lunchbox and Circle Gherkin’ decided to give us a sampling of Hallowe’en by dumping on us a trail of horror. Starting from Parish Publick House should have served as a fore-warning things would not proceed as the standard fare of a Surf City trail. The entertaining company and pleasant weather lulled the litter into a false sense of security. Then again, the hare-pair merely played upon our well-deserved reputation as half-minds. The crew commandeered a table inside the building and for a while it looked like on-on-on. In retrospect, maybe we SHOULD have skipped this trail and did a warmup prelude to AGM. But we didn’t. Half-minds one and all. Eventually Circle Gherkin’ delivered an uninformative version of Instructions of Trail. I feel certain he and Jersey Lunchbox conspired to concoct something so enigmatic, no one in the pack would be able to ascertain it’s true meaning. And they did. And there was no rejoicing. Hares away.

The next fifteen minutes were consumed by basically attempting to not think about what would soon befall us. One thing that would definitely fall upon our little heads would be darkness and it would envelope us long before this trail was completed. Upon finishing what would be our last drink for a long time to come, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain corralled the clan and shooed us outside to conduct Circleup for Introductions. This action resulted in their hearing from: TIMMY!!, Flours For Anal Bum. Oral D, Pink Cherry Licker, dBASED, International House of Pussy, Steamy Baanorrhea and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a small canine contingency this week consisting of only Junk Puncher and Scratch and Sniff. Pack out.

A pack arrow pointed the pod directly across Almar Avenue and onto Rankin Street. I readily admit that I find it impossible to retain my bearings when in the Circles. That, coupled with the fact we traversed every Locals-Only Alley for ten blocks around dictates what follows will be little more than a collection of uneducated guesses and sheer speculation as to where the hell this trail took us.

We took Rankin until an on-left onto Wilkes Circle. We crossed California, took a couple of treacherous alleys and found ourselves on Gharkey Street. This was soon followed by an on-left onto Continental Street which inexplicably morphs into Palmetta Street in a short time. We barely adjusted to this change before we were directed to make an on-right onto Graham Street. Graham was used until Walk Circle where an on-right and a quick on-left took us down another dark and dangerous alley to Wilkes Circle. We passed across Wilkes continuing on the same alley, still both dark and dangerous, to the innermost of the Circles, Errett.

We completed a half-circle of this circle and went on-right on Pendegast Avenue. Assuming everyone was thoroughly confused, and rightly so, the hounds were done with this large scale circle jerk and we pulled away from the Circles. Pendegast was used until following a hare arrow on-left onto Bethany Curve. The locals on this street must have known some of the Powers that Be as they were able to get this street closed to through traffic years ago. One block along, barricades prevent vehicular traffic, only pedestrians can connect with Bethany Curve in the next block. More to our liking was the fact this short, dark stretch of terrain hosted Beer Check this night. This was, by far, the most pleasurable section of trail thus far.

Soon enough though it was on-out continuing on Bethany Curve towards Monterey Bay. But we were not allowed a view of the Bay, we were directed on-left onto Oxford Way and then on-right onto Woodrow Avenue and again were pointed towards the Bay. But no, no viewing was in store for us. It was on-right onto Pelton Avenue and then on-right onto Clark Avenue. When Clark ends at Columbia Street we were directed on-right. Columbia leads to West Cliff Drive. Even this e-vile hare-pair would now be unable to deny us a view of the Bay. And it was so done, an on-right onto West Cliff Drive was mandated.

The purpose of routing us in such a circuitous manner was soon obvious; we were able to observe up close the damage the January and February ‘atmospheric rivers’ did to this stretch of West Cliff Drive. Major sections are missing never to be seen or heard from ever again. The final disposition of this section is still somewhat in doubt, the major goal now is to at least stabilize the cliffs to prevent further loss of land.

Trail continued along West Cliff until Almar where the Turkey/Eagle split was observed. It’s Turkey time. The Turkey was obviously directly on-up Almar to Garfield Park where Religion was to be staged. There we found short-cutters Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain already joyfully slurping beer from the trough.

dBASED convened Religion and here’s a sampling of down-downs dispersed. There was a convoluted discussion between dBASED and Pink Cherry Licker pertaining to the number ‘one’. One also coincided with the number of checks on this trail! Anyway, the result was dBASED being awarded a down-down; Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain being awarded punitive down-downs for missing Beer Check and Flours For Anal Bum for incessantly repeating the same story multiple times on trail. On-on-on was…wait. The hares. How could I forget those two jokers? Everyone appreciated the section allowing us to see the destruction of West Cliff Drive but I heard no compliments pertaining to the rest of trail. This Hash is over. On-on-on was back at Parish Public House which was a college gathering point and even more so since the demise of Burger.

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-70.

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 seventeenth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Greetings,

Under normal circumstances I would be happy as a pig-in-poop to be home from the Olde South having survived another high school reunion and upon returning home having won my first bout with COVID but considering my welcome home was a trip to The Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon followed by the pursuit of Steamy Baanorrhea I must say this was a less than stellar return to the world of Hashdom. While you may consider that a harsh condemnation of such a nice man as Steamy Baanorrhea but by the conclusion of this Trash you, too, may come to believe he is a wolf in sheep’s attire.

So, here we are(here we are) at the venerable Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon. While it has endured a number of ownership changes throughout it’s life, it seems the clientele has remained the same: inebriated! I could also mention loud and unruly but that seems redundant. The only hasher I saw sitting inside was Flours For Anal Bum. Worse yet, one of the men sitting at the bar actually knew her mortal moniker. Makes one wonder if she may be leading a dual identity, doesn’t it? She did soon join the clan in the outdoor drinkin’ area though.

Okay, we’ve all moved outside, it breezy and much cooler that the darkened interior. On the plus side, that saves the owners from ever having to clean the place. That may actually be a good thing for the patrons as well, one may truly not wish to see what the place really looks like anyway. We have been graced with our Founder’s presence, that being Banana Basher. His long-suffering wife, Bailas con Burros, is wise enough to not give him a hall pass very often. For the first time in quite a while, he served a useful purpose at a Hash; he cradled Bukkake while Clearly Not A Hooker ventured indoors to get a libation. Dog sitter. Finally an endeavor at which he can be at least partially successful. dBASED has returned from his tour of the Southwest, he even developed a slight drawl. Today Is Monday and The Arabian Goggler abandoned the FHAC-U and the Valley heat to enjoy a trip to the beach. We apologized to them for the fact Steamy Baanorrhea was the best we could do for a hare. After a week recuperation time, Just Piper joined us again from the other side of Monterey Bay and brought her little little doggie Taylor. I assume she is now aware of the need for protection while visiting the Surf City kennel. This sets the table for another feast-or-famine Surf City trail.

Steamy delivered his usual lackluster Instructions of Trail. He was somewhat vague on details. I do not know if that was due to the fact he was not happy with his trail or simply due to his sucking on his flask too deeply. That question will be answered along trail I assume. Hare away.

With only the slightest interruption, the pack returned to socializing. Bar tabs were settled, running and walking alliances were forged and tacos from the food truck next door were scarfed. At the appointed time, just arrived co-GM Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in responding barks from: Banana Basher, Flours For Anal Bum, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, dBASED, The Arabian Goggler, Today Is Monday, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cum, U Will Not!, Just Piper, Circle Gherkin’, Jersey Lunchbox, International House of Pussy and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a canine contingency almost large enough to form it’s own pack: Spot’d Dick, Junk Puncher, Bukkake, Scratch and Sniff and Taylor. Pack out.

Trail took the troops on-right from the Saloon to 38th Avenue where a whichy-way wanted us to on-left all the way to a check at the railroad tracks. Yes, of course, it was on-left onto the railroad tracks. This lasted until 30th Avenue where a grouping of conflicting markings frustrated the FRBs. More on this fiasco during Religion. Eventually on-left proved correct and at Portola Drive an on-left was mandated one short half-block followed by an on-right to continue on 30th. This continued until an on-right onto the Moran Lake Trail, Moron Lake in Hash parlance. It was along here, now in full-on darkness, Liquor Check was staged.

This trail was taken to East Cliff Drive where we were directed on-left and just past the lake it was on-left again on a path that took us around the lake and then back to East Cliff Drive. At Rockview Drive we were pointed on-right and then on-left onto a locals-only path. But instead of going to the cliff as usual, we jumped a set of stairs and went through half a dozen yards past numerous groups of people enjoying themselves. That happiness did NOT extend to us though. Eventually we came to another set of stairs that took us across Pleasure Point Drive back to East Cliff Drive and an-on-right there. This scenic jaunt lasted until 36th Avenue where the pod was pointed on-left. This took us all the way to Beer Check/Religion behind the Cat and Cloud on Portola. After the Walkers walked in, Pink Cherry Licker assembled her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of those that visited with her this night.

Those that followed and old trail were mocked; Jersey Lunchbox chastised for laying a hare arrow; those that missed Liquor Check were mocked; backsliders were punished; Analversaries were recognized and those that did not have enough of a half-mind to bring a torch were punished. On-on-on was…sorry. The hare. Steamy Baanorrhea was thanked for volunteering to lay this trail only last week. No mention of trail quality was made though. On-on-on was at Taqueria Vallarta on 41st Avenue. 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 that I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-69.

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 tenth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Hallowe’en,

Struck Surf City early this year and Trick or Treat became trick only. Or maybe I should say ‘prick’! Harsh? Well, maybe but then again so was this trail. Horror story details to follow.

Beginning from club favorite Vino-by-the-Sea(even though this is Monterey Bay) made the merry members of this madness even merrier. We also ran into Apple Bobber. Apparently his band performs here so this has now become his hang. He was, however, unable to hash as it was his night to prepare dinner for his girlfriend. The pack assembled on the breezeway as the weather was stellar. The early evening sun shone it’s warming rays directly on us.

For an unknown reason, our hare-pair, that being Cumz Out My Nose(fully healed obviously) and Broke Bench Mountain, chose to wait quite a while past 6:33 before delivering Instructions of Trail. Most likely this was due to the fact there were a paltry eight hounds in attendance, a rather small turnout for a beautiful day right here on our very own wharf. Where is everyone? Anyway, Instructions of Trail were rather mundane. Something, we were soon to sadly discover, would NOT be indicative of trail itself. Hares out.

In approximately fifteen minutes acting-GM dBASED drove the mob down the steps for Circleup for Introductions on the performance stage and heard from: Clearly Not A Hooker, TIMMY!!, Cum, U Will Not!, Occasional Rapist, Circle Gherkin’, Steamy Baanorrhea and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. For our canine contingency we saw Spot’d Dick, Junk Puncher and Scratch and Sniff co-haring. Pack out.

We can fast forward a quarter of a mile back to land. The promised Turkey/Eagle split was observed at Beach Street.

While many of us thought it strange the Turkeys would be directed on-up the hill towards the Dream Inn while the Eagles stayed on flat ground, we had ultimate faith our hares knew what they were doing. On-up it was for we Turkeys. Upon reaching the Dream Inn, we were directed to cross West Cliff Drive and on-left to Bay Street. There was a check at Bay. TIMMY!! proceeded farther along West Cliff and was perturbed to find an uncapped Check; two marks and nothing more. Puff went on-right on Bay and soon encountered that coveted third mark. On-on! Fast forward to California Street where a check was observed. TIMMY!! and Puff split the duty with Puff finding a damn long false on-right on California. In the end it was Occasional Rapist finding trail on-right and on-down into the depths of Neary Lagoon. A check at the bottom of the hill yielded an on-left onto the pontoon bridge floating on the water.

At a Y-split trail went on-left and found: it’s dead end and a back check both! Normally, this would be acceptable but there was a hare arrow just upon entering the bridge. So, remembering this, Clearly Not A Hooker climbed the fence blocking off the other section of the bridge. It was closed for removal of the tule and cattail grasses clogging the waterway. She soon returned saying a section of the bridge has been removed to allow passage of machinery and she refuses to swim in Neary Lagoon! So, it was time to circle back around to the Chestnut Street entrance. Once there we merged with the Eagle trail. Again, we considered this strange as it appears the Eagles came here directly from the check on Beach Street, barely a quarter of a mile. Something is wrong here!

Just as we started to take the walkway leading to Laurel Street, Occasional phoned and found everyone was waiting on us at Beer Check! This was due to the fact the hares HAD reversed the markings at the Turkey/Eagle split and those that took the Eagle trail arrived at Beer Check half an hour ago! Consequently, the remainder of trail was ignored and the rest of the pack made for Beer Check at the end of Cliff Street overlooking town. Upon our arrival there, business was concluded quickly as the hour was growing late. We soon slithered over to the area behind Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary Exploration Center. (the name is bigger than the building!) Religion was staged here with dBASED at the helm. Here’s a sampling of the brief Religion: Circle Gherkin’ for hashng his first Turkey trail, albeit it unintentionally; Clearly Not a Hooker for hashing her first Eagle trail though it, too, was unintentional; Cumz Out My Nose for mixing up the designations at the Turkey/Eagle split. Both hares merely remained at the altar for the tradition thrashing of the hares. That was it, that was enough! This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at the Boardwalk Bowl.

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-65.

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 September in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Happy Labor Day,

A holiday for most of you peons that still slave for the almighty American dollar. Though you may not enjoy your job, think your boss is a jerk(a boss is just a double S.o.B…backwards!) your weekly woes are vastly superior to the labor we were forced to endure this past Thursday. Cum,U Will Not!, Steamy Baanorrhea and Hugh Heifer, all three mild mannered maniacs and (reasonably) well liked in the kennel, made themselves somewhat LESS well liked this night. Explanation to follow.

We began from the beautiful venue of Chaminade Resort and Spa. Stellar surroundings, tennis courts (where’s the pickle ball courts?), gym, sauna, two(count ’em, TWO) heated pools, the list of amenities continues practically ad infinitum. But us? Well, no, of course not. We were directed to a small park with a fountain filled with malodorous water and an ashtray so people could smoke around us. The weather was as dreary as our surroundings. We were coerced into drinking from a vessel as being seen with beer bottles in hand would have allowed security to send out butts packing. So, in short, an alarmingly inauspicious beginning to this Hash.

In order to minimize potential casualties, the hare-pair(where’s Hugh?) delivered a short version of instructions of Trail and outed themselves. Well, this is probably also due in part to the fact neither are accomplished public speakers. Their ardent hope was to complete trail prior to darkness falling upon our little heads. THEY avoided the dreariness of the darkness, the pack , however, did not and was shrouded in darkness long before trail evaporated.

Fifteen minutes was spent communing with our drinks and looking nonchalant when security passed by in the golf carts or guests passed the park on the way to the main building. Many of the parents recognized no-accounts and lowly louts upon seeing us and drew their children closer when passing. Upon the expiration of the lead time, co-GM Broke Bench Mountain requested a Circlelup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: dBASED, TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Jersey Lunchbox, Snake Me Anywhere, Oral D, Clearly Not A Hooker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a minuscule canine contingency this week consisting of only Spot’d Dick and Junk Puncher. Cumz Out My Nose was dog-sitting Scratch and Sniff who had visited the vet today for the snippy-snippy procedure. Pack out.

Much of this trail was on unnamed (unauthorized?) trails. Consequently this Trash will be an inaccurate recreation of the actual trail. No one cares anyway. Trail proceeded directly to an on-down trail consisting of leaf-slickened steps and little more. This trail(unauthorized?) soon curved on-left and circled beneath the main building and crossed the road leading on-up from the cemetery at the bottom of the hill conveniently located adjacent to Dominican Hospital. Then we were actually treated to a paced surface which soon turned on-right and into the hinterland of Chaminade. This would never be referred to as the ‘resort’ section of the property. There were a number of large metal PODs here, we can only speculate as to what is contained within. Trail then turned on-right and became a fire access road. Soon we exited Chaminade property and viewed the BN mark.

Beer Check was convened on the edge of Santa Cruz Gardens County Park. Upon completion of our business here, the Eagles headed off distancing themselves ever further from the start while the Turkey’s backtracked a short distance before skirting around the edge of Chaminade property before plunging into the depths of the now darkening wood. This began a serious on-down to the banks of Arana Creek, barely a trickle at this time of the year and this far upstream from Arana Gulch Greenbelt. Near the remains of an old house, Liquor Check was staged. It was a risky on-down to where the bottle of unknown(still is!) liquid was discovered. After dealing with this, an almost never-ending on-up was undertaken which eventually popped the pod out neat the aforementioned POD storage containers. It was there, as soon as Jersey lunchbox resurfaced after doing BOTH Eagle trails, that Pink Cherry Licker began Religion.

Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued this night: Jersey Lunchbox for being DFL; Snake Me Anywhere for bringing a light knowing it would get dark before the end of trail…and leaving it in her car; Clearly Not A Hooker for chivalry on trail, she gave her light to another hound; Broke Bench Mountain for lighting trail for everyone but really only blinding oncoming hounds; Pink Cherry Licker and (father) TIMMY!! for falling multiple times along trail; TIMMY!! and Hooker celebrated analversaries. It was time for on-on-on and…oh. The hare trio. Our hare trio of Cum, U Will Not!, Steamy Baanorrhea and Hugh Heifer were thanked for a beautiful starting point but no mention of trail itself was heard. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was at Jeffrey’s but was attended only by TIMMY!!, Broke Bench Mountain and Puff.

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-64.

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, September the fourth in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Wary,

Is what we are when beginning from Henfling’s Tavern in Ben Lomond. We are considered outsiders in this place. We wear shoes, we still have a mouthful of teeth. We are well-versed in the King’s English. We not only know the day of the week but the YEAR as well.

Let’s copulate this with having only one hare and, worse yet, this harriette happens to live just across the street. This would appear to be a fantastic formula for failure. And there will be no rejoicing.

The fact this was the (occasionally) annual Beat Yur Meat and benefit for Second Harvest Food Bank was the only factoid that induced (seduced?) many of us into attending. We were also treated to a rare visitation by Rubik Pube’s canine companion Mack, AKA Ridiculously- Shaped Dog. Hugh Heifer agreed to accompany him along trail. RSD doesn’t Hash anymore, his aged joints are not happy with such strenuous antics. We also witnessed the return of Moose Turd Pie. As a Lompico (lom-tweak-o) land baron, he does not come down from his private mountaintop estate very often. The over-the-hill contingency (location-wise not age-wise) consisted of Missile Anus, Dual Tools, Worm, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, Gary the Shit Stain and No Film. Even old timers Rainbow Butthole and Wines Like A Bitch emerged from the business persona and rejoined the pack. Vying for the No Film Award would be Courtesy Flush and (current) partner Virgin Clarissa (with canine companion Rocket). Nice they could join us nonetheless. The players are in position, let’s proceed.

Lone hare Rubik’s Pube delivered what may be the shortest Instructions of Trail in recent memory. The majority of the pack did not even hear them. I started to say MISSED Instructions of Trail but then decided they did not MISS anything. Hare away.

For the next fifteen minutes there was a plethora of chatting and some rapid imbibing by those that were accustomed to Surf City on-out time being quite fluid and were surprised upon learning today’s hare actually did conform to the advertised time of 6:33. Once those fifteen had evaporated, GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested those in attendance to assume the proper position for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in responses from: Moose Turd Pie, Circle Gherkin’, Steamy Baanorrhea, Missile Anus, Worm, Occasional Rapist, Cum,U Will Not!, Hugh Heifer, TIMMY!!, Dual Tools(Up My Ass), Clearly Not A Hooker, Pink Cherry Licker, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch, Gary the Shit Stain, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, No Film, Courtesy Flush, Virgin Clarissa and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency was Swamp Rat(co-haring), Ridiculously-Shaped Dog, Scratch and Sniff, Junk Puncher and Rocket. Pack out.

The pack proceeded on-right from Henfling’s beside Highway 9 until encountering a hare arrow turning the troops on-right onto Fillmore Avenue and one block later on-left onto Central Avenue. One block later another hare arrow led the litter on-right onto Sunnyside Avenue. Along here, the runners caught up with some smarties that, being familiar with the geography, had managed to shortcut a substantial section of trail. Short-cutting bastards! When Sunnyside finds it’s terminus, it was on-left onto Love Creek Road and the beginning of a slight on-up. Worse yet, there was precious little room to spare as vehicles hurled past at extreme rates of speed. Thanks, hare!!

Soon but not soon enough we intersected with Brookside Avenue and an on-right was indicated there. Well, at least we’re finally heading in the direction of home. This was a gentle on-down culminating with a gentle bend on-right onto Glen Arbor Road which very soon brought us back into town and within a block of Henfling’s. Here we were pointed on-left and soon to make an on-right onto Hillside Avenue(isn’t EVERY road here on the side of a damn hill?!?) and one block later on-right onto Old County Road. It’s a road only by virtue of the fact vehicles occasionally traverse it’s pothole-filled surface. Eventually we crossed a (very) expensive bridge giving access to Brook Road. Brook Road is less than three tenths of a mile long, not much longer than the million dollar bridge leading to it. At the intersection of Old County Road and Brook Road, we encountered our hare and her little dog at Beer Check. NOW there was some rejoicing.

The remainder of trail was uneventful (read: dreary!) except a one hundred yard section of Highway 9 which possessed precious little room for humans now within the confines of a vehicle. Everyone found it within themselves to run THIS section of trail. It culminated with a spectacular view of the San Lorenzo River and our destination, the castle, residing on the opposite bank. Upon arrival, Steamy Baanorrhea and Moose Turd Pie were observed high above the yard plying their trade as chefs and toiling over grilles broasting our meat. Food flew in all directions as hounds strapped on the feed bag. I must mention one of the offerings, TIMMY’s eggplant-based dip, was of the highest quality.

After becoming sufficiently sated, Pink Cherry Licker cranked up her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs distributed this night: Gary for blood on trail; TIM and Goggler for not doing trail; Moose Turd Pie as a short-cutter; the No Film Award went to…No Film!; dBASED for wearing an ancient W2B shirt; the over-the hill contingency were recognized; backsliders were punished; Virgin Clarissa was welcomed; the grille masters were thanked; Rubik’s Pube celebrated her 10th haring. On-on-on started now and… Oops, the hare. Rubik was told we appreciated the loaning of her castle to us again and she could continue doing so. However, being the hare again was out of the question. On-on-on continued right where we were. 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-63.

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 August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Paul’s Place,

Or so it was when your Scribe first darkened the door thereof decades ago. Then a morph into Ye Olde Watering Hole. Now Mission West. One thing, though, has remained constant: a sketchy clientele. This tradition continued with the gathering of the group as per the request of our hare-pair, that being TIMMY!! and Flours For Anal Bum. These two are so deserving of this place, birds of a feather one may say. Allow me to illustrate my premise.

The herd soon outgrew the interior of this venerable establishment and motored to the outdoor drinkin’ area. A number of tables were commandeered. However, one harriette required a table to herself. That would be Hareless who opted to bring a book to read. Scribe will leave it to you to attempt to comprehend the implications and possible consequences of her action. Bizarre does not even begin to explain such an activity. Or her, for that matter. As for we normal hashers, chatting and swilling was more the order of the day. We were graced with a visitation from a traveler, Slurpee Seconds from Las Vegas and her traveling companion, Virgin Ryan, from Marina. Hopefully he can copulate with Oral D and Jersey Lunchbox and visit with us again. Virgin Zoe showed just in time for a quick Chalk Talk and then it was off to Circleup for Introductions. Just Katie made an appearance and was actually on time for a change. While Scribe should likely avoid mentioning this well-known troublemaker but Penis Is Good For Me parked his traveling home on Delaware Avenue for the first time in months and regaled(repulsed?) the pack with (supposed) jokes collected from his travels around the world. (Also known as Flight to Avoid Prosecution) This sets the players in place for this week’s tragedy in one act.

The hares, in a stoke of luck, imparted Instructions of Trail almost exactly at our advertised 6:33 time. This would later prove beneficial due to two lost sheep which threw the entire hash behind schedule. More on those two jokers later. TIMMY!!, as senior hare (and is he EVER a senior) delivered Instructions which were exactly as disjointed and uninformative as one would expect from someone of TIMMY’s years and deteriorated state of mind. Flours stood there speechless. Hares away.

Now it was time for dBASED to conduct not one but two Chalk Talk classes. Virgin Ryan attended the first accompanied by Slurpee Seconds. Just as this class was dismissed Virgin Zoe appeared and the training session was repeated. Meanwhile we other hounds settled bar tabs and consulted GPS on our phones wondering what dire-erection this trail may take. Many of us soon realized that as TIMMY’s thought processes are no longer linear, at least in the conventional sense, we soon abandoned this exercise and resigned ourselves to our fate. Now dBASED called for Circleup for Introductions. The result of this was voices from: Steamy Baanorrhea, Hareless(minus the book), Occasional Rapist, Cum,U Will Not!, Slurpee Seconds, Virgin Ryan, Snake Me Anywhere, Clearly Not A Hooker, Rubik’s Pube, Pink Cherry Licker, Circle Gherkin’, Just Katie, Virgin Zoe, Jersey Lunchbox, Oral D and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week was Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick and Swamp Rat. Pack out.

A check on the sidewalk behind the bar was soon solved and it was on-right to Swift Street. Another check there was soon eliminated and it was on-left past Humble Sea Brewing and yet another check was encountered at the pedestrian walk beside the railroad tracks. The FRBs eliminated this and we were directed on-right. Let’s fast forward to the west side Antonelli Pond. Mercifully, the missing and/or rotten planks forming the train trestle over the pond have been replaced so we did not risk life and limb to make this crossing. Once back on terra firma, it was on-left beside the pond to Delaware Avenue and a check solved there pointed the pod on-right.

It was obvious Long Marine Lab and it’s adjacent environs were on our map. That was fine with us but it was the fact the hares felt it necessary to tour the entire friggin’ place was unacceptable. We were not allowed the first on-left but rather we covered every square kilometer of the grounds.

We circled around the entire complex before entering De Anza Point Mobile Home Park through a coded gate that we have never found to be locked. We meandered through the park until there WAS no more park and exited through a heavy always-locked gate and onto the hillside above Natural Bridges State Park. Which, in all honesty, should be renamed Natural Bridge State Park as only one of the original three still form a bridge. On-down onto the beach we dropped and then plodded through the only medium we dislike more than the accursed railroad tracks: SAND!! Once across the beach it was on-up to the parking lot and then back on-down into the Monarch butterfly reserve. Once there we performed an on-up of the opposite shore and then(finally) encountered the Turkey/Eagle split. The eagles went on-right and exited the Park and then made an on-left onto Swanton Boulevard to Delaware and on-left there. The Turkeys continued through a field and then eventually made an on-right and came to Delaware. After rejoining both contingencies on Delaware, the troops took the trail beside what was originally a Texas Instruments building, now commandeered by UCSC, and soon found the hare-pair residing beside Antonelli Pond slurping away on Beer Check beer.

Things seemed to be progressing nicely, the walkers came on-in, almost en masse, followed by the Eagles. While preparing to on-in for Religion, it was noted Cum,U Will not! and Occasional Rapist were not in attendance. A phone call from them to Steamy revealed the fact they were lost. Or was it stoned? Probably both really. They said they didn’t even know where they’d BEEN, let alone where they WERE at the moment but were pretty sure they were on trail. More time passed and they called again saying they’d found the Turkey/Eagle split. It was now full-on dark so Steamy dispatched himself to retrieve the wayward Turkeys. Upon their arrival, they were handed drinks and told to keep walking.

The pack adjourned from Beer Check and reassembled themselves behind Upper Crust Pizza just as last week. Once in some semblance of order, Pink Cherry Licker unveiled her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of this action: The RA herself was awarded a down-down for claiming to see the hares pre-laying trail, she was then informed it was 6:40 and they were on trail; Penis Is Good For Me for refusing to turn and view Hooker’s breasts; Jersey and Gherkin’ for a hare snare; dBASED for making the lame nomination that Hooker’s dog, Bukkake, responds to a woman’s breasts; Penis as a visitor; Virgin Zoe was welcomed(Virgin Ryan had fled in terror); Steamy for also stopping on trail when dBASED said, Junk Puncher, stop!; Penis for telling a joke both loud and lousy; Flours for thanking TIMMY!! for ‘teaching her things'(Who knew the olde man still had it in him?); Cum,U Will Not! and Occasional for becoming lost and Steamy for rescuing them and Gherkin’ for lowering himself upon bended knee in front of Zoe…and only tying her shoe(though I noted his eyes were turned upwards the entire time). And that did it… No. The hares. We appreciated the view from the coastal bluffs but next time lay a shorter trail or tell the pack to bring flashlights. This Hash is over. On-on-on bounced back and forth between the Taco Truck behind Mission West and Upper Crust Pizza.

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-62.

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 twentieth day of August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe