Sand gets in your shoes,

Plus any uninhabited bodily space nearby. Make your own assumptions as to which ones that could encompass. The only inhabited spaces this night were the ones for vehicle parking. A Summer Thursday at the Crow’s Nest with the weekly beach party in progress was just the first of many serious errors perpetrated by this hare-pair this evening. Details to follow…

Alcohol was not allowed on the patio area so hounds either brought their own or, devious bastards that they are, went next door to the Beach Market, bought a can and dragged it back to the start.

The weather was stellar and the gang grew. Shallow Hole and Shitty Cat came over-the-hill a day early for W2B. Princess Di(arrhea) is wearing her bionic body parts as if she was born with them. But as for the hares…Cum, U Will Not! is known as a theme hasher. Consequently, tonight we honor Booty Camp, wear your camouflage. Only Broke Bench Mountain is allowed to wear a camiSOLE! Additionally, co-hare Circle Gherkin’ claims to have injured his leg. He also blushes when asked how such occurred. The pack smells prelay. Quite a while after their advertised 6:33 on-out time, Instructions of Trail were delivered. They were rather mundane, exactly in line with how this trail is expected to proceed. Hares out.

The next fifteen passed as routinely as possible when expecting a substandard trail. In other words, additional imbibing. Upon completion of additional alcoholic reinforcement, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and this is the results: dBASED, Flours For Anal Bum, Occasional Rapist, Hugh Heifer, Shallow Hole, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Dung-Fu Grip, Boneless Shelter, Pink Cherry Licker and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week was Happy, Junk Puncher, Shitty Cat and Scratch and Sniff. Spot’d Dick was co-haring. Pack out.

We proceeded towards Twin Lakes State Beach but only one block. It was then on-left and on-up Assembly Avenue. This street SHOULD be named Unassembled Avenue because it is littered with potholes and more closely resembles one of the unpaved alleys in the Seabright area than passage meant for a vehicle. At Eaton Street we were pointed on-right to Seventh Avenue and on-left there. Not far up Seventh, LC sign was viewed and it was on-right into Twin Lakes Park. In the dark, dreary hind end of the park, Liquor Check was staged. Upon finishing here it was back to Seventh and on-right to Brommer Street where the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. The Eagles continued on-up Seventh Avenue and went on-left and eventually into Arana Gulch Greenbelt. The Turkeys went on-left towards the Harbor. Once down in the bowels, it was on-right and onto Marsh Vista Trail through Arana Gulch, on-right onto Broadway-Brommer Trail which circles around and back to the Harbor. Once there it was across the top of the Harbor and on-right down to Cumz and Broke Bench’s yacht for Beer Check.

Miraculously, no one got motion sickness and tossed their cookies overboard. We were thankful for that and soon migrated to Twin Lakes Beach for Religion. Once here, and graciously given an already-roaring fire courtesy of some people leaving, Pink Cherry Licker and Dung-Fu Grip fired up Religion. Here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: those that honored the Booty Camp theme; backsliders were punished and those that wore matching camo shirts. Yeah, I know. I must recognize the hares. They, too, were called to the altar and chided for starting trail in this location but then told the fire on the beach almost redeemed them. On-on-on was right here needless to say. 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-55.

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 July in the year of our Hash tow-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

The heat is on,

I only wish it were sufficient to fricassee the hare-pair we were burdened with for this trail. We coagulated at Seabright Social, that’s Seabright Brewery for you old timers, and this was the only time we felt social towards these hares all evening. Both Pink Cherry Licker and Baker’s Dozen’t are nice people so you may find my judgement rather harsh. I can, however, produce evidence to support this assertion. Peruse forward.

The mob assembled on the patio area of Seabright Social and caught the final sunlight before the sun dropped behind the building wall. The air immediately cooled. As Instructions of Trail were distributed, the temperature became downright frigid. There were some extravagant promises made(none of which were fulfilled) and trail was to be short as well. The only hound that found trail to be short was Hareless who became disgusted by Liquor Check and went the hell home. Hares away.

Much socializing was perpetrated after the hares’ departure. This frequently is to allay fears that trail will prove to be less than promised and, even possibly, no fun as well. After settling beer tabs, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: dBASED, TIMMY!!, Occasional Rapist, Steamy Baanorrhea, Cum, U Will Not!, Oral D, Taco Tramp, Virgin Johnny, Dung-Fu Grip, Hareless, Hairy Potter and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week was Scratch and Sniff, Spot’d Dick and Junk Puncher. Pack out.

Trail took the troops on-left from the patio on-up Seabright Avenue to an on-left onto Logan Street. This lasted but a block to an on-right onto Mountain View Avenue. The next street, Pine Street, yielded and on-right and once back to Seabright, on-left we went. This, too, lasted but one block and then it was on-right onto Clinton Street. Again, one block and it was on-left onto Darwin Street. Let’s not change now, one block later it was on-right onto Windham Street. Next, and you could probably see this one coming, one block later was an on-left onto Fredrick Street.

We were now allowed to continue ahead until Hanover Street where the pod was pointed on-left. As you know, the palatial castle belonging to Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy is located on this street but marker in front of the door indicated no Beer Check available. Reportedly there was some obscene interaction between JFP and a few hounds but I dare not repeat such without having witnessed it myself. That being said, if I HAD seen this event, I probably STILL would not detail it as I do not wish to be known as a party to such an indecent event!

Trail continued along Hanover. Beside the skating rink were two (mostly) empty Modelo Especial bottles. Rumors were spread someone partially refilled one of these bottles but again, as Scribe did not personally witness an event of such vulgar magnitude I shan’t repeat it. At Seabright, our third visit of the evening, it was on-right to Soquel Avenue and on-left at Lillian’s Italian Restaurant followed by an on-left onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Could we be on track to invade the abode of Dung-Fu Grip? Yes, we were and we DID. Liquor Check was staged on the stage of his carport.

Upon completion of our appointed rounds here, trail on-outed on Pennsylvania to Broadway and across. The hares resumed their previous strategy. One block past Broadway it was on-right onto Windsor Street. One block later it was on-left onto Pine Street. One block later, on-right onto Windham Street. One block later, on-left onto Caledonia. one block later, yet again, it was on-left onto Pleasant Street. Scribe is now getting dizzy. One block later, on-right (back) onto Pine Street. Is there no end to this madness?!? I capitulate!

(ONE) Block later at our favorite five-way intersection, that being Pine, Cayuga and Buena Vista, trail took the troops on-right onto Buena Vista. I need not tell you how many blocks later we were directed on-left onto Idaho Avenue and the appropriate number of blocks later on-right onto Seaview Avenue. Miraculously, Seaview was abused until it’s terminus followed by an on-left onto Hiawatha. Hiawatha makes a pair of ninety degree wiggles and ends at Mountain View where an on-right yielded to a locals-only path across the railroad tracks to Murray Street. At Murray Street (DGK) we crossed and proceeded on-right to East Cliff Drive. There we were led on-left and on-down to what is colloquially called Princes Park as it overlooks the mouth of the San Lorenzo River where three Hawaiian princes introduced surfing to North America in 1885. Beer check…finally.

While we were here, a black-and-white pulled up. Beers were rapidly and cleverly hidden. In the end though it was found they were there to discuss a gentleman’s state of intoxication with him. He had climbed the fence onto San Lorenzo Point and was yelling loudly and getting precipitously close to the precipice. They whisked him away. Back to Beer Check duties.

Upon completion of our duty here, we motivated to the Museum of Natural History, colloquially called the Whale Museum, to stage Religion. By the time we arrived, we’d lost two harriettes, Pink Cherry Licker and Hareless, both of whom claimed not to be feeling well. Pink Cherry Licker checked in the next day with not only COVID but strep as well. YIKES!

Dung-Fu Grip took the stage, literally as well as figuratively, at the museum as Religious Adviser. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs issued this night: backsliders were punished, Cumz Out My Nose was congratulated on completing trail in it’s entirety on her new knees, those that beat on Just Foot Pussy’s door were recognized, Virgin Johnny was welcomed, Virgin Johnny was also mocked for catching a bag of dog poop tossed him by Broke Bench. And the hares, they were told the one-block turn trail was interesting but did not salvage an otherwise shitty trail. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was convened (again) at Engfer’s Pizza. Liz was unable to turn off the lights quickly enough I guess!

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.

Scribe 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-54.

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 eighteenth day of July in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

The Redwood forest,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end i desired. It was with this motive in mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-53.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Prepare yourselves,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mine I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-52.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

On-up,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-51.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Sunshine,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chose not to complicate this Hash Trash with facts thereby allowing me to extract almost any end I desired. It was with this motive in mind I recounted the events that comprised Hash Twelve-50.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe