Point the way,

To the exit from this trail. Clearly Not A Hooker and (purported) Mystery Co-Hare Dung-Fu Grip spared no chalk this evening. They also gave a sound thrashing to the hounds. What follows is the sad tale of such.

Point A was Sante Adairius’ Portal on Water Street. The interior was quite lively and the pack brightened the exterior. We were pleasured by old kennel mate Pinch the Head and Twist It. She has not been seen in two years, I guess she finally finished her time. Banana Basher also slithered on-up Cayuga to plague us with his presence. He still possesses no apparent intrinsic value. Half of last week’s hare-pair, Circle Gherkin’, showed snout but head hare( who said head?) Cold Smegma Kamikaze knew better than to manifest his muzzle this week. Many of us are still smarting from last week’s trail of terror. Speaking of last week, Flours For Anal Bum was to co-hare rather than Circle Gherkin’ but claimed to be too ill to do so. I make the assumption she refers to a physical malady rather than the (numerous) mental defects she obviously possesses. This week she was to take over the reins of power as Beermeister. She did not show this week either. She has traversed the distance from hero to zero in two short weeks. TIMMY!! will have the (dis)pleasure of continuing as Beermeister for at least another week. That’s as much gossip as can be relayed this week.

With a minimal amount of coaxing, the hare-pair relayed Instructions of Trail. They were just as uninformative as we’ve come to expect form the likes of Hooker and Dung-Fu, masters of chicanery they both are. Hares away.

The pack spent the next fifteen minutes of their lives eating, drinking, paying bar tabs and, most of all, ignoring what was anticipated to be a trail of little or no significant importance. We are somewhat prescient in that respect. The fifteen did pass and the herd was mandated to migrate to the parking lot by co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain to conduct Circleup for Introductions. The result of this was haring from: Pinch the Head and Twist It, TIMMY!!, Cum You Will Not, Steamy Baanorrhea, Banana Basher, dBASED, Circle Gherkin’ and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency consisted of Scratch and Sniff, Spot’d Dick and Junk Puncher. Pack out.

Trail led the litter on-right to the evening’s first check at Poplar Avenue. Trail, heralded by arrows-only, was located crossing Water Street, Soquel Avenue, through the parking lot for Staff of Life and to exit the rear onto Gault Street. At Gault it was on-right past the abode of Just Foot Pussy and Bacon Queef, whom, incidentally, was at the start but opted to remain drinking rather than hash the trail, and then a quick on-left onto Sumner Avenue and two blocks later on-left onto Effey Street. Then we blasphemed the grounds of Star of the Sea Catholic Church and were ejected onto Fredrick Street. An on-right there brought us to an extended stay at the intersection with Broadway. After considerable sniffing here, Steamy located trail continuing on Fredrick and then to make an on-right onto Windham Street.

Soon it was on-left onto Darwin Street. When Darwin ends at Clinton Street, it was on-left. when Clinton comes to a climax, an arrow pointed the pod on-right onto Owen Street. Owen, too, was taken to the limit and when it ended an on-right was dictated onto Watson Street and took the troops to Seabright Avenue where one of the ubiquitous arrows turned us on-left and across Murray Street and, sadly, past Brady’s Yacht Club with no Gorilla Beer Check. The next street, Marine Parade, was chosen and it, too, was taken to it’s terminal point where it was on-right onto Fourth Avenue by necessity. Now we entered a slight danger zone. Partway along Fourth, the OTHER Yacht Club, that being Santa Cruz Yacht Club, kindly provides an on-left locals-only point of ingress to the Lower Yacht Harbor. I doubt such was placed here for the convenience of hashers and we may not even meet with their approval but the hares opted to drag us on-down this walkway nonetheless.

We are now at the Lower Harbor and here yet another arrow got the gang to on-left. Let’s fast forward to the steps on-left that lead on-up from the Upper Harbor. This delivered us back to Fredrick Street but soon arrows had us on-right into Fredrick Street Park. At the harbor side of the Park, Liquor Check was staged on a bar-be-cue grille! Everyone got toasted too! In addition to some rotgut liquor, it featured ‘edible stickers’. That being said, the digestibility of said ‘edible stickers’ is still a subject open to debate. Suffice it to say all the dogs present refused the offer made them. It was then on-down to the Upper Harbor and on-left and on-up through Arana Gulch to exit onto Agnes Street, on-right to South Park Way and on-left there all the way to Soquel Avenue.

We were directed across Soquel Avenue onto Park Way. This began a rather long, if not simply boring, traipse to just before where Park Way ends and there we took an on-left onto Roxas Street. One block later it was on-left onto Marnell Avenue. One block late the BN was observed and Beer Check was staged on Fairmount Avenue beside John D. Franks Park. It was here we discovered the hare-pair swilling away on Beer Check beer. After sufficient time was wasted waiting for the Walkers, a phone call determined the lazy dogs had shortcutted at Soquel Avenue directly to the site for Religion behind the Safeway on Morrissey. The hounds at Beer Check migrated there via Marnell and Melrose avenues. Upon our arrival, we found Pinch the Head cracking the whip on her fellow hashers. That is meant literally, she had a bullwhip and it was emitting cracking noises when she used it properly. Mercifully, dBASED fired up his Religion machine which (somewhat) calmed Pinch the Head. Here’s a sampling of what transpired during Religion: those that missed/skipped/avoided Beer Check; backsliders were punished; co-hare Clearly Not A Hooker for her ‘edible stickers’ at Liquor Check and finally the hares themselves. There was some mention of a relatively scenic trail but the length was deemed excessive and the absence of flour was inexcusable. This Hash is over.

On-on-on was held at Taqueria Santa Cruz, conveniently located directly across the street from the One-Double-Oh-Seven Club.

The preceding was a factual accounting of actual events even 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 still 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-34.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

It was a dark and stormy night…

Banal cliche? Damn right. However, it is sadly applicable to the events that comprised Trail Twelve-33. Explanation to follow.

Let’s begin with one of the hares became so ill(reputedly) she was unable to fulfill her obligation. This, of course, refers to Flours For Anal Bum. Emphasis on the ‘Bum’ portion of her moniker. She did not text anyone during trail to ask how it was going. Maybe she had more important business elsewhere? Her proxy, Circle Gherkin’, stepped up to take her place. However, this was but Gherkin’s second haring and lead hare, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, refused to divulge trail details to him. In theory, this will make it extremely, if not downright impossible, for Gherkin’ to assist with the laying of trail. Thinking back to his first haring with Jersey Lunchbox, you may remember what a tragic event it was so even if he WAS made aware of the planned trail, it would still probably not go well for the pack.

To further dishearten the pack, it is now well past that 6:33 mark and Cold Smegma has yet to show snout. The pack, all seven(!) of us, are becoming increasingly inclined to have Circle Gherkin’ drag us around the block and call it a Hash! With just minutes to spare before our self-imposed deadline, Gherkin’ received a text from Cold Smegma claiming he was almost there. As it was now raining and the temperature having dropped to the upper-forties, we were almost hoping Cold Smegma did NOT make the cutoff time. He soon pushed his burgeoning belly through the swinging doors here at the Over-the-Hill Gang Saloon to the dismay of many of us in attendance. After a little coaxing, like hurry-the-hell-up, Instructions of Trail were issued.

After informing us about a Turkey/Eagle split and a Beer Check quite close, the hare-pair slithered on-out. Hares away.

The hares said they would not require even a fifteen minute lead time as Beer Check was so close. Consequently, soon co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain, from the comfort of the interior of the bar, called for Circleup for Introductions and heard whimpers from the following hounds: Cum You Will Not, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, dBASED and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Canine wise we had Spot’d Dick and Scratch and Sniff. Yes, that was it for this week’s festivities. Pack out.

A hare arrow immediately outside the front door led the litter on-left all the way to 30th Avenue to make an on-left there. We went down 30th and made an on-right onto the Moran Lake Trail. That’s Moron Lake in Hash parlance. Just prior to the on-right, the BN mark was viewed. However, once into the darkened depths of the Eucalyptus forest, further marks eluded us. Eventually, the light-reflective jacket of Circle Gherkin’ revealed the location of the hare-pair and Beer Check was engaged. As we stood there, shivering and injecting ourselves with cold liquid, what could be interpreted as snowflakes swirled around our little half-minds. It was certainly cold enough. Hares requested a seven minute lead time and left. About five minutes later the pack, now down to five, decided to leave. Let’s get outta here. Pack out.

It was a rather unpleasant traipse along side Moron Lake. Ask TIMMY!! who took a terrible spill and not only injured himself but came away wet and muddy as well. Eventually we got to East Cliff Drive where an arrow pointed the pod on-left. This began a rather dangerous section of trail as there is no place to go should a vehicle approach. And it did. And there was no rejoicing. Mercifully, the driver spied us and gave us a wide berth. We were able to make it to Chesterfield Drive where a hare arrow pointed us on-right and allowed us a brief shortcut back to East Cliff Drive and on-right there. We now undertook a long and very windy jaunt along East Cliff until just past the bathrooms where we were directed on-right and on-down to the sand where Liquor Check was staged. It was quite windy here so our business was concluded quickly and back on-up to East Cliff.

The Turkey/Eagle split was encountered not far along East Cliff. The Eagles are disappearing into the darkness, that does not appear to appetizing, Scribe will fly with the Turkeys tonight. Turkeys went on-left onto 34th Avenue. Somewhere around Floral Drive we went on-right to 36th Avenue, on-left and on-in to Religion behind Cat and Cloud Coffee. The two Eagles were already present so as soon as Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain were collected from the bar where they wisely waited out trail, dBASED began Religion and promised it would be brief as the temperature has lowered itself into the low forties.

Here’s what transpired there: Cumz and Broke Bench for not placing one rear paw on trail; they were joined by Puff who decided to sing them the same song as one previously sang; dBASED for hashing trail sideways, albeit due to a very strong cross-trail wind; hares were doused with flour by all members of the pack for not USING any flour on this trail. This Hash is over.

That finished off this short Religion. On-on-on was at Taqueria Vallarta on 41st Avenue.

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-33.

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-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

Sunny Salutations,

A far cry from this past Thursday’s leather and lace of pink and red. Yes, it was fun and intriguing. This does NOT, however, remove the stain of trail. Our hare-pair, Pink Cherry Licker and Bacon Queef, with over 650 trails between them, should have firmly embraced the KISS method of haring: Keep It Simple, Stupid! However, the aimless twists and turns proved this dastardly duo do not subscribe to such philosophy. Details to follow.

This time we were called to the CORRECT hotel, that being the Marriott Courtyard on Riverside Avenue rather than the Hyatt Place on Broadway. While I personally see little, if any, connection betwixt these two accommodations, apparently Pink Cherry Licker does. Or at least DID at a previous point in her life. So this time she moved us from the relative safety of Broadway to the dingy depths of Beach Flats. In the dark. In the off-tourist season. The interior of the Marriott is quite nice I must admit and the outdoor patio will be quite a draw in the Summer. Sadly, that Summer season is a distant dream on this chilly February evening. In addition to a full bar, unlike the Hyatt, there are four person dining booths with TV screens in the wall and spacious couches and chairs a-plenty. The bar area filled and the few guests steered clear of the area.

Pre-lube time was it’s usual verbal exchange of gossip and events that have transpired in our lives since our last session of intercourse. This also involves ignoring what may befall us along trail. Half-minds racing through the geography of the area, wondering how safe trail will be and the possible location of Beer Check. This wild speculation was ceased only by the hare-pair’s declaration of Instructions of Trail. While almost universally ignored, there were enough blatant lies to illicit chuckles from more than a few hounds. In the colloquial, this would be termed Whistling through the graveyard. Hares-out.

The final fifteen was the settling of bar tabs, visiting the indoor bathroom and enjoying the indoor warmth. As everything must come to an end,(sometimes gratefully) co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain ran everyone out the door to convene Circleup for Introductions. The result was names from: Flours For Anal Bum, TIMMY!!, Fap Jack, Cum You Will Not, Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Slow Gherkin’, Clearly Not A Hooker, Worm, Today Is Monday, Gary the Shit Stain and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency this week consisted of just Junk Puncher, Merlissa and Scratch and Sniff. Pack away.

A hare arrow led the litter on-left to the first check of the evening at the intersection with Riverside and Third Avenue. This check consumed an inordinate amount of time. Whether this was due to hare deviousness or hound incompetence is a debatable subject. Also one not worthy of any more of our time. On-on was eventually sounded on-right onto Third and then on-right onto Raymond Street, across Leibrandt Avenue to continue on Raymond to a check at Beach Street. Here’s where the evening’s kink rose up hard and long. TIMMY!!, having spent the formative years with Pink Cherry Licker, crossed Beach Street thinking she may take the troops onto the Boardwalk. He surmised correctly. However, due to an inordinate number of fences, we were directed onto the Main Beach and on-left. Okay, we can do this, it’s slightly under a quarter of a mile to the river and it will be easy-peasy once we get there. However, at the very last set of steps on-up to the Boardwalk, the below was encountered.

Those of us feeble minded enough to fall for this began the stumble back to the check far, far away. The tide was in making the river too high to shortcut. TIMMY!! stumbled not once but twice on the irregular peaks and valleys of the beach before reaching concrete again.

Just as this group of dejected hounds hit Beach Street, on-on was given proceeding along Beach, into the large parking lot at Beach and Third and on-right and on-up to the bridge over the river. Once up to East Cliff Drive, a solved check pointed the pod on-right. Just past Pilkington Avenue, a hare arrow begged the brood to on-left across East Cliff and onto the tracks where Liquor Check would be staged. After consuming some hideous concoction here, trail proceeded east along the tracks to Seabright Avenue and a check. Here was our promised Turkey/Eagle split. The Eagles have vanished towards the Yacht Harbor. No thanks, it’s cold and dark down there, I will Turkey Trail it this night. We gobblers went on-left onto Seabright but were soon allowed to shortcut through the parking lot behind The Blue Lounge to Logan Street. Logan was loped along until Buena Vista where an on-right was indicated followed by the on-left and on-down the remnant of South Branciforte Avenue and then on-left on-up to Oceanview Park and then to transition on-right onto Oceanview Avenue.

The Eagles joined back up at Windsor Street and the entire pack found a check at Broadway. Everyone believed it simply HAD to be an on-left and it was so solved. The tribe traipsed Broadway and eventually observed the BN at Roberts Street. I must say it was a long two blocks until the REAL Beer Check in Mimi de Marta Dog Park. But we made it. And there was much rejoicing. It was but a five minute walk to the site for Religion behind Wheel Works on the now dead end section of Laurel Street Extension. It was here leather clad, skimply-attired Dung-Fu Grip fired up his Religion machine.

Here is the listing of an (extremely) abbreviated Religion so hounds could make it to I Heart Sushi prior to the 9PM closing time: Visitors were welcomed; hares were roasted; analversaries were celebrated(BOTH hares!) and Pink Cherry Licker was congratulated on completing another trip around our sun. This Hash is over.

It was a few blocks up Front Street to I Heart Sushi where eleven hashers reassembled and ran up a food and bar tab of almost 500 bucks! Broke Bench Mountain (foolishly) offered up his credit card assuming everyone would pay him back. Gullible, isn’t he?!?

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-32.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

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