Every hasher in Surf City
Likes hashing a lot…
But on nights when it rains, it seems they do not.

It was trail 888, and it promised some fun,
As the 4th anul Anti-Yuel, All Krampus Run!
Though many gathered , some naughty, some nice,
At Saturn Cafe, where the drinks were half priced.
To see off our hair pair of Dung Fu and Baker’s,
When it came to run trail, there weren’t many takers.

You see as we arrived it was pouring down rain,
And most of the pack asked, “Are you insane?”
“Last week we went out in our gowns and tuxedos,
This week let’s skip trail and eat some burritos!”
And thats what they did, and I hope they’re all sorry,
Because this rhyming trash will not be their story.

This story will tell of the six that ran trail,
Puff, Timmy, dBased and some girls as well.
Because somehow the flour was not washed away,
And somehow the chalk marks managed to stay.
So they ran, and they ran, and they
Ran
Ran
Ran
Ran
And here’s how the tale of this trail began:

We ran down Pacific, and through Depot Park,
Where we discovered that there in the dark,
A river had sprung up blocking our path.
So we stopped for a second to weigh out the math
Should we just ford the river and run on with wet shoes?
Or veer off the trail and risk missing some booze?

Buyt we found a way, me, Bareback, and Tongs.
And we sang and skipped as we followed along.
Knowing that somewhere ahead was a stop,
Where we would be treated to peppermint schnapps.
It would taste just like Christmas, it’s sweet, and mint-laced,
And it’s one hundred proof so it gets you shit-faced.

And we found the LC, those promising letters,
And we looked among bushes and leaves and duck feathers.
“Those fuckers!” We cried, “They’ve taken the bottle!”
And left all us ladies behind them with fuck-all.
It seems that they waited , but not long enough,
And figured we’d given up, just had enough.

Trail floated on decks that went ‘cross the lagoon,
And through tunnels of trees that blocked out the moon.
It wound onto Laurel, then on Chestnut we searched,
Upwards to Mission St, and to Holy Cross Church.
Then down a waterfall that hid steep, tiny stairs,
We just went around, no thank you cruel hares.

Then we found the hares, and the pack, and a few,
Who didn’t run trail, but still wanted some brew.
They had mulled wine, which was supposed to be hot
It tasted delicious, but warm it was not.
And we drank and we bitched.
And we bitched
bitched
bitched
bitched
About missing the schnapps and those that had ditched.

We went to religion at a different lot.
Where we had a drink that was gross, but at least it was hot.
I didn’t take notes, I don’t remember too much.
Analversaries? Tales? Downdowns and Such?
I do know that Nips is moving away.
To go live with Riff Raff, out near LA.
We’ll miss her a lot, but she’s doing fine.
She ditched us for love and for sex all the time.

Each year, the dandies and fops of Surf City look forward to the Dress to (Sixty) Nines Hash in hopes that their fellow kennelmates might  be misidentified as classy human beings.  This year we had so much class it was coming out of  our pores and leaking in a frothy, viscous discharge from our crevices.

Since our sleepy coastal town has a limited number of class establishments that still let us in, we met at the hotel bar at Solaire.  You can tell Solaire is classy because the bottles behind the bar are bottom-lit. The first attendee was Genital Tongs, setting the tone for the night by showing up an hour early to suck down Manhattans, making friends with Dan the Bartender, and calling him Dave for the next hour.   Wicked Retahded showed up dressed in his best Oil Tycoon Chic, snakeskin jacket and all.  Co-Hare Dung Fu gave trail directions using an easily dismissed inside voice before he left with Co-Hares PCL and Fap Jack.  

The rain gods presented the hashers with a moderate drizzle for the duration of the evening.

At Circle Up, the group celebrated the democratic process that had passed Proposition 65. The extravaganza brought us visitors Ska Skank Redemption from San Francisco, who came dressed as an aluminum Festivus pole, and No Poles from Silicon Valley, who managed to put on a tie after watching several tutorials on YouTube.

The trail crossed San Lorenzo Park, ran down Pacific, and headed east on Broadway.  At a check on Riverside Ave, I lost No Poles.  Or he escaped.  I’m not sure which.  A left turn on Pennsylvania brought us to Liquor Check, where PCL greeted the pack with tiny plastic martini glasses filled with something pink and intoxicating.  My favorite.  Trail continued North to Soquel to a Turkey/Eagle split in front of Joe’s Pizza.  Eagles ran further to the north end of the trail along a swollen Branciforte Creek, while Turkeys went down the south end of the Branciforte Creek trail.  At Beer Near under the cover of the Oswald’s parking garage,  Hot Totties warmed wet weary Hashers. Broke Bench Mountain played with a drone that will surely turn on him when the robot apocalypse comes.

Religious Advisor Accuprick selected Dung Fu as Beer Fairy.  Dung Fu wielded dildo syringes like a samurai thus confirming several of the rumors circulating about him.  First up was No Poles and his shitty joke.  As an aside, I found out No Poles is actually related to Accuprick even though he knows about the letter “R”.  So if we need to replace Accuprick, we can just send No Poles for elocution lessons in South Boston, stuff him full of sausage and cheesecake, and we can pretty much have another Accuprick.  Dogbreath accused dBased of running through two falses.  And while the GPS tracks have subsequently vindicated dBased, neither the kennel nor the universe gives much credit for being right.  The costume contest was a three-way between Thmp-Thmp’s hat,  Ska Skank’s dress with a slit, and what Dogbreath will be wearing to the sentencing phase of his trial.  Ska Skank is the one to beat for next year, taking the trophy up to San Francisco.  Hares Dung Fu, Pink Cherry Licker, and Fap Jack were celebrated/blamed.

Dung Fu announced next week’s Krampus hash starts at bar that has been closed for six weeks, instilling great faith that he has scouted this trail.  Instead we’ll go to Saturn that has an uncovered dog-friendly patio and an indoor bar.  Enjoy the rain dog owners.

Love And Burritos;

Courtesy Flush

Still no real 886 Hash Trash, but here is another type of trash while we wait:

It is often said history repeats itself and so I feel the desire the recant the events of exactly 11 years previous to this years hash. That would be 12/8/2005. I checked the historical records (archive.org) and believe I have my date correct. On this night it presented the unique combination of rain, hashing downtown and Snow Night (now called WinterFest), the same as we have this week. As you might guess, religion was held at the Soquel/Front parking garage – just as is scheduled this week. Due to inclement weather, the collective decided to have religion one level down and avoid being wet. This resulted in a large volume of sound being generated. Because it was Snow Night and there were many families to hear it and many nearby police to respond. The police believed it was fight. Religion was held in a corner by the stairs. The cops pinned us in. One cop coming up the stairs on foot and two cop cars were coordinated to arrive all at the same moment.

When the cops arrived, they were kind of dumbfounded – expecting a fight, only to find people drinking. They said, dum-dee-dum-dum – you gotta go. Hashers fled the scene of the crime as quickly as possible and no arrests were made. Banana Basher took one for the team and negotiated with the cops. Perhaps his truck full of toys helped (it was Toys for Tots night). I had no alcoholic beverage in my possession when the coppers arrived, so I stuck around to see if Banana need to be bailed out.

The end of the story is Banana’s vehicle was not parked in a parking spot and the coppers requested it be moved. However, Banana was no condition to operate a moving vehicle, so he requested I do it. It only need to moved around 5 feet. However, Banana had some sort of funky transmission and it took me about 5 minutes to move those 5 feet. Banana knew exactly what was going on and was laughing inside his head the entire time while the police watched.

So, I believe the lesson to be learned for this week’s hash is should conditions occur such as religion is moved down one floor, it is done with contemplation.