Welcome to Hill Hell Haven,

AKA Back Nine Bar and Grill. We have assembled here at the behest of Snake Me Anywhere. This is her second outing in as many weeks as hare and everyone hopes she has corrected the errors she perpetrated (penetrated?) upon the pack last week. Her very own sister and co-hare from last week, Carlos Danger, opted not to attend this week and most likely due to the embarrassment she feels over her failed effort last week. Admittedly, co-hare Rubik’s Pube showed snout but also brought canine companion Swamp Rat knowing everyone likes him. We are in the outdoor drinking area and it’s quite nice for early February. This ‘bait-and-switch’ is a normal ploy of hares fearful their trail will be an abysmal disaster. Begin trail from a friendly venue, appease the pack and then physically and psychologically assail them on trail. The saddest aspect of this strategy? It has always proven successful with we half-minds.

As second rounds are being delivered by our lonely waitperson, whom, incidentally, took one of our calling cards, Snake slithers to the front of the pack and hisses Instructions of Trail. As a digression, many hounds have been sitting here with phone in hand viewing the map app of their choice and see there’s really only two options in this area: cross Highway 17 and make an on-left or an on-right and return in the opposite direction. Neither of those, incidentally, present a pleasant alternative. As it was blatantly obvious where trail would lead the litter, few hounds listened. That includes your Scribe who found his beer far more intriguing than our hare. Hare away.

The next fifteen was passed finishing drinks and settling bar tabs. Well, that is unless your hash handle is Courtesy Flush. The exact cost of his mixed drink was a mystery and remains so to this very day. He pranced, foot to foot, and eventually surmised approximately what the price should be based on querying kennel mates on the cost of their mixed drink and depositing that amount on the bar and exiting the area. At a rather high rate of speed too I might add. After the allotted allotment, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain corralled the congregation for Circleup for Introductions and listened to responses from the following: Bacon Queef, Hareless, Steamy Baanorrhea, Courtesy Flush, Slow Gherkin’, Just Bryan, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, dBASED, Dung-Fu Grip, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Flours For Anal Bum, Rubik’s Pube and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week’s canine contingency was at full strength: Spot’d Dick, Scratch and Sniff, Junk Puncher and Swamp Rat.

One thing about this trail that was favorable, it had to cross over Highway 17 and there was definitely to be a check at North Plymouth Street. This was the first of many predictions that proved to be true. Sadly. This check was solved as an on-right. The die has been cast, on-in will return here from the opposite dire-erection. Trail proceeded on-down to it’s first check at the driveway leading on-left to the Emeline Street County office buildings. Check solved and into this grouping of buildings we traipsed. Once this area hosted Juvenile Hall before being moved to Graham Hill Road. Again tonight it witnessed a massive influx of juvenile delinquents. In the late sixties, the County Hospital was opened here. Tonight’s trail may well have more than a few kennel mates wish this hospital was still in operation.

We wandered throughout the complex eventually being ejected onto Emeline Avenue where an arrow pointed us on-left to a check at Lee Street. Circle Gherkin’ chose the on-left onto Lee and soon chimed out; on-one, on-two and then on-three. Uh…on-three? Well, he’s relatively new but obviously more training is in order for this harrier. The pack regrouped and took off on-left onto Lee and peeled off on-right when the street turns and took the Market-Lee Walkway that curves on-left through a large apartment complex and then on-right onto a bridge over Branciforte Creek and to Market Street. Here was the promised Turkey/Eagle split. As it is dark and Scribe knows where trail will lead, I will be taking the Turkey this night. We Turkeys were directed on-left onto Market Street, under Highway 1 and to a check at the intersection with Goss Avenue, Branciforte Drive and Isbel Drive. There was no question in anyone’s mind but that trail turned on-left onto Isbel.

The first section of Isbel is not only unlit but dangerously narrow as well. Hare don’t care. Eventually Isbel develops sidewalks which is, needless to say a good thing. This beneficial development is though more than offset by the appearance of one of the steepest hills in recorded Santa Cruz history. So, in brief, it was on-up to the top. At the top of this precipice was an arrow pointing on-left onto Carbonera Drive. This being a fact unless your name happens to be Dung-Fu Grip. He is either visually impaired or, thinking trail may prove to be too short to satisfy him, he proceeded to ignore said arrow and continue trucking. Even this half-mind soon determined he had erred and upon returning to the intersection, discovered his oversight and rejoined the herd. Almost immediately Carbonera presents the antithesis of Isbel Drive, that being a monstrous escarpment. Unlit too, I might add. I will fast forward to the bottom of this hill, AKA the Valley of Death. Looming over the litter now was the second mega-hill of the evening and, seemingly impossible, but it appeared to tower over the hill we had just descended. I do not wish to torture you, faithful reader, or myself by reliving the living hell that was necessitated by humping on-up this hill. Let’s just remember we all completed the climb. As we neared North Plymouth Street, for the second time tonight, the BN mark was observed. While this instigated much rejoicing, the majority of the pack was too tired to even LIFT a beer, let alone enjoy one.

The pack had now reassembled and much resting is on the agenda.

We spent a considerable amount of time here as but few of the runners were still running and an even smaller number of walkers were still able to walk by the time they crested the hill leading here. We did, however, eventually head(who said Head?) on-out and back to Pasatiempo for Religion. Once back, via an incredibly dark and dangerous road, Religious Adviser Dung-Fu Grip cranked up his religion machine.

Here is a sampling of down-downs issued this night: Scratch and Sniff for pooping within feet of on-out, Broke Bench Mountain acted as his drinking proxy; Dung-Fu Grip for missing trail even though he KNEW where trail was to proceed; Cum You Will Not, even with Spot’d Dick to assist her, managed to fall down the very first hill on trail; Cold Smegma Kamikaze for finding the one-and-only mud puddle on this entire trail and backsliders were duly punished. There was no consensus for on-on-on so…oh. Hare. Most of the pack agreed this Snake would be best utilized as a snakeskin belt, not a hare. With no decision for on-on-on, the RA dismissed the pack.

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 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-31.

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, Saint Valentine’s 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

Deja vu,

One more time around. The doubling-down of Beer Check location was not the only duplication on this trail. We again fell for three hare hell. Rubik’s Pube, Snake Me Anywhere and Carlos Danger(danger being the operative word here) led the litter through a pointless series of twists and turns worthy of a bag of stale, cheap pretzels. Allow me to elaborate. Or at least as much as I can tolerate to relive.

Point A was the Red Room. This is a typical ploy when the hares are concerned their trail will not please the pack, begin trail from a trusted, loved location. This lulls the litter into a state of relaxation. Getting the group to drop their guard is an important facet of this ploy. On the brighter side of things, this Hash saw the return of Clearly Not A Hooker. She offered little excuse for her extended absence. I have taken note of the fact she missed four hashes, that’s thirty days. Maybe we should consult the police arrest records to explain her absence.

Not too long past the announced time, Instructions of Trail were delivered. There was a lot of repeating of details. I’m not sure if this was intended to begin the Groundhog Day theme or was merely due to the hare trio’s level of intoxication. I assumed that question would be answered along trail very soon. Hares out.

After the passage of fifteen minutes of our lives, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain corralled we critters and shooed us to the outdoors for Circleup for Introductions. This resulted in their hearing from: Hareless, TIMMY!!, Occasional Rapist, Flours For Anal Bum, dBASED, Cum You Will Not, Pink Cherry Licker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Clearly Not A Hooker, Dung-Fu Grip, Slow Gherkin’ and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Pack away.

Trail took the troops south to Walnut Avenue and on-right there to Chestnut Street. Some minor confusion there resulted in trail continuing on Walnut and on-up towards Santa Cruz High School. Just past Rincon Street a set of steps on-right lead on-up to Towne Terrace, a pitiable, dark little street inhabited by old houses with shabby vehicles parked on the pothole filled street. A little farther along, a second set of steps will take you onto someone’s private property and to Grover Lane. Grover Lane is most likely as dreary as Towne Terrace but is just so damn dark it’s impossible to tell. This was the Eagle Trail while the Turkeys took the first set of steps. Grover Lane is, mercifully, but one short block and brought the Eagles back with the Turkeys on Towne Terrace. A short distance along, we discovered Rubik’s Pube dispensing hard stuff from the back of her car like a common drug pusher.

The pack staggered away on-up Towne Terrace to Mission Street and were pointed on-right to an on-right onto Chrystal Terrace. When this street ended, we took a locals-only on-left to Pine Place. Pine Place rapidly degenerates into an unpaved, unimproved, muddy footpath where all wheel drive vehicles are the norm. Pine Place ends at Union Street and dictates an on-left back to Mission Street. Trail turned on-right at Mission to a check at Chestnut Street Extension. Here’s where the tragedy of a tri-powered hare ensemble raised it’s ugly little head. There was much sniffing and more than a little cursing as hounds howled due to their inability to locate trail. All manner of avenues of exit was sniffed to no avail. On-on was eventually sounded on the opposite side of Mission proceeding on-up Highland Avenue. We were later to learn hares got their wires crossed somewhere along the line and we should never have been directed to Chestnut Street Extension. Meanwhile, back on true trail…

The pack proceeded on-up Highland to High Street and on-right to take the pedestrian overcrossing of Highway 1 and then along High Street. Once to Mission Plaza Park, our favored BN mark was observed and the hares were found there, cooler perched on a park bench like a common drunk. Two huge arrows were on the ground here. After completing our visit, trail made the members on-out down School Street to the perilous steps, both shallow and steep, on-down to North Pacific Avenue. Here we were directed on-left to River Street and on-left there again. We traveled quite a distance on River and were being to doubt the sanity of our hares. We were approaching Highway 1 and could not conceive of being forced into a crossing. At Potrero Street, a hare arrow directed us on-left. Our course of action gelled, we were heading back to Mission Plaza Park as per Groundhog Day rules! And we did, on-left and on-up back beside Holy Cross Church and back onto the previous trail to find the hares again/still in the park.

After the completion of our second (illegal) visit to Mission Plaza Park, we undertook the short jaunt to the top floor of the Locust Street Garage for Religion. Here, for a reason that remains a mystery to me, Religious Adviser Dung-Fu Grip put on a tie (a perfect Windsor knot!) and hopped up on the tailgate of Beermeister TIMMY!!’s truck and fire up his Religion machine.

Let’s recap with a sampling of down-downs issued this night: Broke Bench Mountain for DRIVING to Religion and making Cumz Out My Nose who is on crutches from her recent knee replacement surgery WALK to Religion; TIMMY!! for exhibiting his short-cutting tendencies(again!); TIMMY!! and Dung-Fu Grip for stripping on trail, well, really they were just changing clothes but they made sure their…uh…attributes were put on display; those that did not do the ‘Infinity Loop’ at Holy Cross Church; Rubik’s Pube for losing her chapeau along trail; Clearly Not A Hooker for going to the wrong parking garage for Religion and Rubik’s Pube for her impending birthday. On-on-on was staged…oh. Hares. It’s so easy to forget those wanks! Anyway, co-hares Rubik’s Pube, Carlos Danger and Snake Me Anywhere were thanked for the novel theme of their trail but I heard no compliments on trail itself. On-on-on was staged at the pop-up formerly home to Planet Fresh Burrito though Rumor Central contends a substantial percentage of the pack went next door…the Red Room!

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 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-30.

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 sixth day of February in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

No checks,

No checks and balances, unfettered fun for the flock. A FRB’s dream, with no checks to solve they were able to almost completely drain the Beer Check chest before the Walkers arrived. For the Walkers it was an excursion into the Twilight Zone. They saw no one along trail unless they partnered with someone, even the police ignored us this night.

We began this mind-numbing excursion from a new location, Gilman Brewing on Soquel Avenue beside Whole Foods. Rumor Central contends some hashers were seen here sampling Gilman’s wares a few weeks back but this was the first for the club as a group. While the reviews on this recently-opened watering hole have been mixed, most hashers were more concerned with the impending trail and had pretty much already ‘written’ their reviews about trail. First, we have senior hare Occasional Rapist. She openly admits she has no interest in running, that’s not what she’s here for, and may well excessively employ pre-lay. Then there’s Cum You Will Not. She has mentioned many times she considers all this running stuff to be complete bullshit and that her only reason for being here is that she lives for themed hashes. She even disgraces her dog by dressing him like a fool in addition to herself. That brings us to the third leg in this tri-powered terror, Just Lisa Maire. This will be her sixth hash and her first was over two years ago! Two YEARS?!? Really now, please tell me what this person knows about trail laying! She doesn’t even have all the markings down and now she is to be our hare. Oh, I know, I know. The Rapist and Cum Not will be accompanying her. But, for some reason, that just doesn’t fill me with confidence either.

Bearing the above in mind, ten minutes after the announced time, those of us supping and drinking in the indoor warmth, see the hares walk through the building and start out the door. Hey! Wait, how about some Instructions of Trail? Oh, we gave those on the outdoor patio, they replied. Oh, the patio where they were two, three hashers at the most? Yeah, THAT patio, was the response. So, the hares said, Don’t worry, easy trail, no special instructions required and on-out they went.

The pack spent the next fifteen minutes settling up bar tabs and hoping trail would prove to be as easy as it was represented. While we DOUBTED it would, hope springs eternal. On the upside this week, we were treated to the return of a number of hashers we have been missing of late such as Boneless Shelter, Circle Gherkin’, Jersey Lunchbox, 2 Dicks Down, Rubik’s Pube and Hugh Heifer. While happy to see them, we intend to make sure each and every one of them is reamed for being the backsliding bastards they are. After the passage of the allotted fifteen time units, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain rounded the herd up and moved us outside. Once there, Circleup for Introductions yielded responses from: Steamy Baanorrhea, TIMMY!!, Jersey Lunchbox, Rubik’s Pube, Hugh Heifer, Just Bryan, Circle Gherkin’, Boneless Shelter, Jizziki, Flours For Anal Bum, Pink Cherry Licker, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Virgin Eric, 2 Dicks Down and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. As for our canine contingency, this was our most impressive outing in quite a while. In addition to Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick co-haring, we had Swamp Rat with Rubik’s Pube, Scratch and Sniff with Cumz and Broke Bench and Happy with Boneless Shelter. Quite a respectable collection of critters! Pack out.

Trail crossed Soquel Avenue at Pine Street and went on-right to Caledonia Street and on-left until Windsor Street to make an on-left. Windsor was abused for quite a way, continuing across Seabright until an on-left was dictated onto Darwin Street. Darwin was used until Hanover Street were the troops transitioned onto the recently revamped locals-only walkway beside the under-remodel library to exit onto Gault Street and turn on-left. Our destination may just have become clear, the estate belonging to Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy. Sure enough, just as we arrived those very two hashers came out and joined us at Liquor Check.

Upon completing our appointed task here, we reversed course for twenty-five feet and were then directed on-left into the backside entrance to Staff of Life grocery store. Through the parking lot we went and exited onto Darwin Street and across into an apartment building parking lot. We were merely circle-jerked around the building. Gee, thanks hares, as if this trail was becoming long enough already. Once back to Darwin, it was on-left to Gault again just barely missing the trail directly across the street. As I passed this intersection, I saw Rubik’s Pube and Hugh Heifer entering the intersection. They were advised of the location of Liquor Check and to come back to this intersection to avoid the unnecessary circle jerk.

Down Gault we went to an on-left onto Fredrick Street. At Soquel Avenue we were directed across, mercifully with the aid of a pedestrian light, and on-right to San Juan Avenue. On-left there to Melrose Avenue and on-right. Half a block later, out wily hares had found a dark, dank and dangerous alley on-left to Parnell Street and on-left once safely having arrived there. Oh, but they were not done thrashing us yet. A few blocks later yet another unlit passageway presented itself on-left. This was another of those dangerous treks hoping that none of the dogs barking at us as we passed had access to our legs. This would eventually eject us onto Melrose Avenue where an on-right was dictated. Melrose was used until it’s termination at Stanford Avenue where we were pointed on-left to Water Street where the DGK marking was observed. That was a good idea as Water Street is little more than an acceleration ramp as cars fly by. Once across, everyone made it safely, we were directed on-right onto Benito Avenue. Joyfully, the BN mark was viewed shortly thereafter and we finally caught up with our hare trio in the parking lot for Branciforte Small Schools Campus.

It was soon determined this location would be more favorable as the site for Religion rather than the previously announced spot. So after finishing ONE beer, everyone grabbed another, walked twenty feet and stood our ground as the only duly elected Religious Adviser present, Pink Cherry Licker, fired up her machine.

Here’s a listing of the down-downs issued by PCL this evening: the RA herself for thinking she saw the hares and tried short-cutting by following them, sadly it was NOT the hares and she ended up way lost; backsliders were punished; Virgin Eric was initiated and Jizziki celebrated his 150th outing with us. On-on-on was…oh, sorry. Those damned hares. They were thanked for our starting point and Liquor Check but I heard no praise for the trail that did not contain even one lousy check. On-on-on was convened at Taqueria Santa Cruz and was attended by TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Pink Cherry Licker, Boneless Shelter and…Courtesy Flush(!). Where did HE come from?!?

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 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-28.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Four hares,

And not a trail to be seen. We’re been down the dead end of a three hare trilogy before and rendered the verdict is not a viable option for us. So, in typical half-mind modus operandi, let’s go ‘one better’ with FOUR hoppers to see if that changes the outcome. Well, in THAT respect we were correct, but only on the dark side.

Let’s begin this trip down the rabbit hole from the Hyatt Place on Broadway. Sounds like a visit to the Big Apple! A high end hotel, not a place hashers are accustomed visiting, and here we are. At 6:15, we had only one half of the hare contingency, that being Pink Cherry Licker and Fap Jack. We were told the other hares might(or might NOT) appear somewhere along trail or maybe we would merely see evidence of their existence due to pre-lay. As if that is not enough to supply you with an more than ample supply of trepidation, we have also discovered the bar, such as it is in it’s minuscule configuration, is not a full service lounge. TIMMY!! was heart-broken. He was not alone in those sentiments, there were sufficient reasons for all those present to be in a high state of dismay.

Though there were precious few articles of data to support any optimism pertaining to impending trail, a few illuminated areas did exist. Let’s peruse them, shall we? Occasional Rapist’s sister, Just Lisa Marie, graced us with her presence; Circle Gherkin’ has returned after a prolonged absence, I believe he has been cleared by his ‘counselor’ to return to ‘active duty’; both International House of Pussy and Cunt Double have presented their snouts for our perusal; Wicked Retahted donned his LA pimp attire and strode amongst us; The Arabian Goggler and Today Is Monday managed to find their way over-the-hill for a tryst with us and lastly but not least, there were some stellar attire on display for the titled Dress to the (Sixty) Nines Hash. Sorry, that’s about all on the positive side of this Hash.

After admitting to themselves none of their other purported co-hares would hop on-in, Pink Cherry Licker and (only?) co-hare Fap Jack finally delivered Instructions of Trail. They were a mishmash of a mess. Sometimes it seemed the hares were arguing back and forth with each other, yet to completely finalize trail. Unsettling, to understate the gravity of the situation. Hares-away.

After the passage of the allotted fifteen minutes, dBASED corralled the attendees just in time to see one of our GMs, Broke Bench Mountain, sauntering on-up the driveway claiming parking was difficult in this area. It’s 6:50, where did ya park, the damn Boardwalk?!? BBM took over and received responses from the following hounds: Hareless, Just Lisa Marie, Occasional Rapist, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, Flours For Anal Bum, Wicked Retahted, The Arabian Goggler, Today Is Monday, dBASED, Circle Gherkin’, Steamy Baanorrhea, International House of Pussy, Cunt Double, Cold Smegma Kamikaze and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week was a full force; Junk Puncher, Spot’d Dick and Scratch and Sniff. Pack away.

We were directed on-left onto Broadway and had the displeasure of waiting for an extended period to continue on Broadway by crossing Ocean Street. The crossing of Ocean at this particular venue, especially in the dark, is an unsettling experience. When hares write ‘DGK’ at such a place, I find it ludicrous at best and insulting at worst. Who goes out on trail with the desire to get killed?!? Who even wishes to be HURT along trail? However, hares frequently wish to tell us to not get injured on their trail. Maybe it’s just the guilt they would feel, either that or they would not wish to get caught chuckling.

Once (safely) across the Ocean, we proceeded on-up the Broadway hill and continued until reaching Pennsylvania. A solved check here pointed the pod pretty much as expected, on-left and up to the home currently occupied by Hand Over Piss, Snake Me Anywhere and purported co-hare Dung-Fu Grip. Sure enough, operating without a license, was Dung-Fu playing bartender and tossing around libation as would a drunken sailor in port on payday.

After depleting as much as we were allowed, it was back to Pennsylvania and on-left to a check at Soquel Avenue. Traveling along Pennsylvania, missing co-hare Baker’s Dozen’t was observed…running TOWARDS Dung-Fu’s! Many of us have inadvertently been guilty of RUNNING trail in reverse but we have now witnessed a hare LAYING trail in reverse! What would appear to be a hare arrow led the litter on-left but by the time FRB Steamy Baanorrhea arrived at the next intersection, that with Pine Street, it became painfully obvious we had been misled. Meanwhile, back at the check…hounds had spread on-right and across Soquel sniffing around the Double-Oh, all to no avail. Eventually on-on was sounded maybe beside the Bicycle Trip, maybe down the alley beside the Double-Oh, only the FRBs know for sure. But trail did, however, proceed on-left on Doyle Street and then take an on-right on North Branciforte Avenue. We didn’t know it then but you can settle back and take a long pull on your beer, we gonna be truckin’ along this street for a hell of a long time.

We’ve just dragged tail past Fairmount Avenue, the last possible exit from Branciforte before crossing over Highway 1. Our next stop is now obvious, the penthouse suite belonging to the hare-pair of Pink Cherry Licker and Fap Jack. Sure enough, flour forced the flock on-right onto Gilbert Lane, on-left onto Rooney Street and on-left into the backyard of a certain hare-pair. Here we were treated to champagne with plant seeds in them of which I have of course forgotten the variety. This was a festive affair and stretched out quite a ways as the walkers were well behind those FRB types. Eventually though it was on-out onto the next leg of this trail which appeared to be stretching beyond it’s advertised 3.5 mile length. We were told on-out would be on-left at Rooney, this alone threatened to extend trail will past the stated length.

We DID on-out on-left on Rooney but only a short distance. Upon reaching Elk Street it was on-left and one short block later on-left onto Goss Avenue. You can settle back in your seat again, Goss will take a while. Once Goss terminates at Market Street/Branciforte Drive, we went on-left onto Market and continued along it’s dark, no-sidewalk length until Grant Street where a solved check took the troops on-right onto Grant. Eventually it was on-left onto Berry Street, on-right onto Coulson Street and then on-left onto May Avenue. Finally, we can see the end in sight, or at least so we hoped.

As we reached Water Street, many assumed Beer Check would be staged at Callahan’s as we’d been told to bring money and ID. However, we were led by Callahan’s and told to cross Water Street and continue along May. That being said, Cum You Will Not, TIMMY!!, The Arabian Goggler and Today Is Monday opted for a Gorilla Beer Check nonetheless. More on them later. Trail proceeded along May and took an on-right down an alley exiting onto Ocean Street just behind The Jury Room. So THIS was our beer Beer Check location. Inside we found our two surviving hares with pitchers galore awaiting our arrival. Not far into Beer Check, the determination was made this would be a far more pleasant place for Religion than the outdoor location previously announced. Phone calls were placed, changes were related and agreements were reached. Food was ordered and delivered from Taqueria Jalapenos. Pink Cherry Licker then fired up her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs issued this night: Pink Cherry Licker and Fap Jack as the only two hares to make it to Religion; cum You Will Not and Steamy Baanorrhea for refusing to use the indoor bathroom offered at Fap and PCL’s hose and peeing outdoors; backslider’s were punished; best costume competition; those that attended the Gorilla Beer Check at Callahan’s and the hares for starting a hash from a high-end cocktail bar. That was about it. Oh. Except for the (surviving) hare-pair. Fap Jack and Pink Cherry Licker were thanked for moving Religion indoors but I heard no Thank You! over their trail. On-on-on? Well, we were already there!!

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 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-28.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Circling the drain,

A brief but accurate synopsis of Hash Twelve-27. To carry the circling of the drain one gurgle farther, the flushing of hare TIMMY!! should be of the highest priority. Elucidation to follow.

We began this particular fiasco from Mission West/Ye Olde Watering Hole/Paul’s Place, all depending on your longevity in the area. Or your ability to drink and remember. As those of you that have darkened the door of this den of iniquity of late, you are cognizant ownership has changed. The result thereof is a fresh coat of paint after banning smoking, refurbishing the restroom and acquiring some exquisite pictures of the bygone days of Santa Cruz. Improvement? Well, yeah, but merely a facade. The same creepy creeps and dirty denizens inhabit the bar stools as they did prior to the makeover. If you believe you see a pattern beginning to develop prognosticating the direction this trail is going to take, consider yourself perceptive.

After ingesting a sufficient quantity(but not QUALITY) of alcoholic lubricant, TIMMY!! stood, with only a slight wobble, and delivered Instructions of Trail. Reputedly, Turkey was 3 miles and Eagle around 1 mile more. Lies!

As much attention was given to them as the hare exhibited in delivering them. This is code for zilch-point-shit! Hare out.

The next 15 minutes were consumed with consuming and wondering why so many of our usual kennel mates had opted to skip this trail. This was the first day without water falling upon our little heads in a week or so, why would so many not avail themselves of this opportunity? The consensus arrived at is that many hounds fear at the least and loathe at most a TIMMY!! trail. Personally, I fall somewhere in between as I do not wish to dedicate that much energy on TIMMY!! OR one of his accursed trails. Time did pass though and bar tabs were cleared followed by the mini-pack clearing out of the bar. We passed one of the ubiquitous taco trucks on our way to the parking lot, some of us wishing we had visited previously. Once assembled in the parking lot, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested those present to announce their names. Here is what they heard in response to their request: Flours For Anal Bum, Steamy Baanorrhea, Pink Cherry Licker, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED, Cum You Will Not and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Somewhere along trail we traded Pink Cherry Licker for Courtesy Flush. Intriguing exchange I dare say. Our canine contingency was at full strength; Scratch and Sniff, Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick. (Small) Pack away.

An arrow at McPherson Street pointed the pod on-right to a check at Swift Street. Thus began a series of miscalculations. Crossing to Mission Street would have garnered you false trail markings though it took dBASED and Steamy Baanorrhea a while to ascertain such. Towards the Bay on Swift yielded nada. The remaining exit, that of crossing Mission Street proved correct. Once across Mission, it was on-up Grandview Street. Grandview curves on-left and a few blocks later the back check mark was observed. This took the troops on-back to the locals-only dirt path into Arroyo Seco Canyon. Mercifully, a hundred yards in, an even smaller and darker locals-only path veers off on-right to terminate at Escalona Drive. We plodded along Escalona for a really…long…way. All the way to Laurel Street as a matter of fact where we went on-right and were then coerced into undertaking the dangerous crossing of California Highway 1. Even with a pedestrian light this is a precarious position. We were successful though.

Down Laurel we ventured and then it was on-right onto California Street. Once to Bay Street we cut a jig across and on-right on Bay but only until the Rail Trail where it was on-left. Now that we’re approaching the Circles, a compass will spin as will my head. The following is an approximation as to where we were dragged. Bellevue Street was utilized on-left which morphs into Walk Circle. At California Avenue, we crossed and pulled into Santa Cruz Market for a Gorilla Beer Check courtesy of Courtesy.

Trail continued on Walk Circle until a back check sent the troops traipsing on-back to a narrow, dark locals-only bumpy pathway between homes that led the litter to Wilkes Circle where a solved check pointed the pack on-left. At Pendegast Avenue, marker made us turn on-left. A quick jig at Surfside Avenue and we remained partaking of Pendegast. Pendegast brings one to Garfield Park where, on the southwest corner on Almar Avenue, the hare was finally found swilling away.

Having reached the level of abject desolation, it was quickly decided by unanimous decision that Religion would be staged here rather than migrating back to the normal location beside the tracks on Swift Street. Pink Cherry Licker, having bailed; Dung-Fu Grip, a no-show and Accuprick MIA, poor old dBASED was saddled with playing Religious Adviser. Well, at least it would be quick with only a single-digit number of hounds here. This is what passed for Religion on this night: Courtesy Flush punished as a backslider and Steamy Baanorrhea celebrated his 250th hash with us. Yes, only TWO down-downs! Oh, wait. That damned hare. TIMMY! was thanked for the nice park setting for Beer Check but nothing else. After the hares’ punishment down-down, the RA dismissed the pack. We reconvened at Upper Crust Pizza next to the start for on-on-on and a well-deserved face feed.

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 their kennel mates with entertainment. 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-27.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Rejected,

By the Crepe Place, the Creepy Place in Hash lingo. Arriving at the announced start, it was as dark as my last girlfriend’s feelings towards me. A leaking roof necessitated their turning out the lights Thursday. So, there we were, (there we were) all dressed up with no place to go. The hare-pair soon sauntered up and the decision was made to relocate across Soquel Avenue to Charlie Hong Kong. The pack crossed the street to find: 1) The beer selection is pathetic 2) There’s somewhere close to zero room to stand. So, those of us still reasonable drinkers stayed while those of us far down the lane of heavy drinkin’ ambled down the street to the recently-opened Gilman Brewing in the former location of Tony and Alba’s beside Whole Foods. This group of ne’er-do-wells consisted of Pink Cherry Licker, (second) husband Fap Jack, TIMMY!! and Hareless. They were soon joined by Dung-Fu Grip who ran back and forth to Charlie Hong Kong’s carrying messages. So while the Hash progressed these jokers drank away the evening. Eventually these five finished their drinking here and decided to see what was going on with the hash. Upon returning to Charlie Hong Kong, they learned the hares had outed and it was almost time to Circleup for Introductions. Co-GM Broke Bench Mountain, making a guest appearance, soon called for said circleup and witnessed responses from the following: TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Fap Jack, Hareless, Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), My Little Bony, Cum You Will Not, Flours For Anal Bum, Snake Me Anywhere, Bailas Con Burros, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED, Dung-Fu Grip and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our four-legged hounds this week were Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick. Pack away.

Marker made the merry members of this madness motivate east on Soquel Avenue, cross Seabright Avenue and continue for quite a distance before, sadly, passing Sante Adairius without stopping and continue across Morrissey Boulevard and still keep going. We continued trudging along Soquel Avenue until reaching Park Way where an arrow turned the troops on-right across Soquel Avenue onto South Park Way.

South Park Way has but one noticeable quality, it’s dreary. The die has been cast, Arana Gulch is our destination. Upon reaching Agnes Street, an arrow led the litter on-right and to the entrance to a (very) dark (and [very] dangerous) Arana Gulch. The mob gelled to provide herd immunity against a prowling coyote pack or a rogue mountain lion. Luckily, there’s no option as to how to proceed through here as the hare arrows were smaller than those on Valentine’s Day cards. The trail through Arana Gulch will eventually eject you onto Fredrick Street and we crossed Fredrick and boogied along Broadway. The first on-right, Darwin Street, was our destination. Darwin comes to climax at Hanover Street, except for the recently refurbished locals-only walkway that emerges onto Gault Street beside the library.

Here a check so kindly solved by the Eagles let us know on-right was right. We proceeded along Gault Street until seeing our favored BN mark leading us into the parking lot behind a building facing Soquel Avenue. It was here, foolishly under a bright light, the hare-pair were finally cornered as they swilled away.

Upon concluding our appointed task here, we proceeded back to Gault Street and went on-right to cross Seabright Avenue after dealing with Bacon Queef and Just Foot Pussy who stood in their front yard and watched the pack parade past. Once across Seabright we continued into the parking lot behind Lillian’s and there Dung-Fu Grip set up shop for his vindictive Religion machine. Here’s are but a few of the down-downs, justified or not, issued by our RA this night.

Anyone affected by the storm that inundated the area this past week; backsliders were duly punished; Just Foot Pussy who was not wearing his Foot Pussy shoes; Banana Basher for mistaking a jogger for a hasher on the walkway beside the library and hiding his bulkiness; analversaries were recognized; TIMMY!! for blindly running across Soquel Avenue with careless regard for approaching traffic. That pretty much did it for…oh, wait. The accursed hare-pair. We thanked them for keeping trail a respectable length though trail itself was FAR from respectable. The RA then dismissed the pack 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 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-26.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe