Begin from a bar,

In a grocery store! A bizarre beginning to a trail that proved our hare, too, is bizarre. Actually, even more so. My desire to forget, or better yet completely avoid, a Dung-Fu Grip trail is deep and abiding. Hell, it’s damn near become a religion for me. However, being aware rain was forecast, I (foolishly) assumed Dung-Fu would shorten trail as appropriate. As I said, foolishly.

There we were(there we were) sitting in a grocery store drinking and eating (possibly) stolen veggie chips from the store. Dogs were winding in and out of our legs hoping for dropped food. The regulars were sitting at the bar wondering who we were and why we had chosen their regular abode to victimize.

Virgin Slim, who is far from true virgin status, promised us a real virgin. She appeared but barely in time for Circleup for Introductions. Old kennel mate My Little Bony made a rare guest appearance visiting from his upper crust residence in Santa Barbara. Cumz Out My Nose, our resident robo-human hybrid, ambled in under her own power and made for the bar. Once there, she was somewhat disappointed with a short pour of warm wine. Fap Jack declined to hash upon hearing whom the hare was. Broke Bench Mountain sported a new ‘do but upon interrogation admitted he’d cut his hair himself and may have missed a few spots. Clearly Not A Hooker brought a large umbrella indicating she had no intention of even walking quickly and then announced she wasn’t even drinking. Can she still be deemed a hasher? It would appear obvious to even the most casual of observers that Dung-Fu Grip has an adverse effect upon his kennel mates even BEFORE on-out.

Fashionably late, our hare strode to the front of the pack and delivered Instructions of Trail. Reputedly, trail has been shortened due to inclement weather but when reaching the original Turkey/Eagle split location, Dung-Fu would reinstate the Eagle trail weather permitting. No one cared. Hare-away.

The next fifteen minutes passed rather quickly. The beertender walked over to the mob and said he was obligated to close the place at 7. We promised to be gone by then. The regulars began crab-walking out the door, not taking their eyes off us. We bused our table. Those feeling capable, or at least desirous, chugged one final pint before zero hour approached. It did, however, arrive just as promised so it was out the door with us for Circleup for Introductions. The following hounds answered this call issued by co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain: TIMMY!!, Pink Cherry Licker, Steamy Baanorrhea, Flours For Anal Bum, Clearly Not A Hooker, My Little Bony, Snake Me Anywhere, Cum You Will Not, Virgin Slim, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, dBASED, Virgin Claire and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. We had a canine contingency tonight consisting of Junk Puncher, Scratch and Sniff and Spot’d Dick. Pack-out.

Trail proceeded past Raley’s Grocery and on-up into Peery Park and on-right across the twin bridges past the (still) unopened Rispin Mansion to Wharf Road. At Wharf Road, a hare arrow pointed the pod directly across onto Clares Street. Let the jerkin’ begin. Just across the intersection is the new Capitola Library. We were directed on-right beside the building and then on-left onto a little-known locals-only walkway leading to Trotter Street. Trotter ends at Derby Avenue where we went on-left and back to Clares Street. Thanks for the scenic circle-jerk, hare. At Clares the troops were taken on-right a short distance.

At 42nd Avenue we were directed on-left all the way to Capitola Road, DGK across to remain on 42nd. 42nd ends at Jade Street and marker here led the litter on-left past Jade Street Park to make a quick on-left on-right transition onto Topaz Street. Topaz terminates a scant two blocks later where an on-right pointed the pride onto 49th Avenue and ended at the railroad tracks. Here it was on-down the hill to Cliff Drive and on-left on-down into Capitola-by-the-Sea. Along this stretch of asphalt, TIMMY!! and I were passed by the Eagles consisting of dBASED, his trusty sidekick Junk Puncher and Steamy Baanorrhea. Just across the Soquel Creek Bridge, a hare arrow guided the gang on-left and onto the Soquel Creek Park Footway. This heralded the most exercise any of us would get this trail as we jumped, side-stepped or hopped over huge puddles of water, some almost as large as Soquel Creek itself. When the walkway ends, we were led on-left onto Riverview Avenue and one short block later on-left onto Riverview Drive.

Riverview Drive feeds directly into Peery Park where we visited previously tonight. Just before entering the darkness of the park, our favored BN mark was observed and it was on a bench in the park we discovered our hare calmly slurping beer.

The Eagles joined the party and were soon followed by the remainder of the Turkeys. It soon became obvious the pack had no inclination to on-down to the parking lot to the usual site Religion is staged so Beermeister dBASED stole…uh…I mean BORROWED a shopping cart from Raley’s and carted the Beer Trough on-up into the park. This was soon followed by a set of bright headlights(Who said ‘Head’?) coming on-up into the park. We prepared to make a break for it fearing police intervention but it turned out to be Broke Bench Mountain’s car delivering the infirmed Cumz Out My Nose. It was here Religious Adviser Pink Cherry Licker turned on her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs she issued: Dung-Fu Grip for calling this Hash 1125 in his Trail Announcement rather than 1225; Virgin Slim as a backslider; My Little Bony for not placing so much as one rear paw on trail; Virgin Claire was welcomed and Clearly Not A Hooker(huge umbrella in hand) was recognized for completing her 50th hash. Oh, yeah, the accursed hare. Everyone appreciated the start at ‘Raley’s Bar’ and the food opportunities but had little good to say about trail. It was now raining profusely, the gods of the Hash just missed cutting this trail short. The RA dismissed the pack allowing us to swim away. I dismiss the pack at this time as well. On-on-on was at Village Host Pizza and drew half a dozen stalwart hashers.

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-25.

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 thirty-first day of December in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Picture this…

Five hares and eight hounds equally split between harriers and harriettes. A combination both rare and bizarre. Then again, the annual Picture Hash has always proven somewhat bizarre, most of which in reality is the fault of our hare-pair, dBASED and (second) wife Occasional Rapist. More on these two jokers later, we have other matters to attend to first.

The assembly process began at the abode of our hare-pair in their backyard. It was quite warm for a late December evening, some hashers even decided they were overdressed for this event. There was some minuscule stripping performed. The family’s new fire box was stocked with wood knowing that upon our return it would be a requisite item. A small pack slowly evolved made even smaller upon the revelation we would encounter FIVE hares over the course of the evening. This may well be a club record and not really the kind of which we will be proud. The again, I have taken note of the fact many of our records are not the kind you will brag to Mom and Dad about anyway. Many hares and hounds sported their Christmas finery which led me to believe there was not to be many runners this night. Sensing no more hounds would appear and wishing to avoid further embarrassment, dBASED delivered this year’s version of Instructions of Trail and noted there would be a Turkey/ Eagle split. Sounds dangerous, let’s see how THAT develops.

The hares stated 5 minutes would be sufficient lead time which pretty much gave away the first Beer Check, directly across the street at WomenCare. Hare(s) out.

Five or so minutes later, Broke Bench Mountain called for Circelup for Introductions and heard from the following: Flours For Anal Bum, Steamy Baanorrhea, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Pink Cherry Licker, Cum You Will Not, Snake Me Anywhere, Jizziki and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. No canine contingency this eve. Also, it should be noted Broke Bench Mountain decided he would be better served assisting Cumz Out My Nose with her rehab from double-knee replacement and exited the vicinity at a high rate of speed once introductions were completed. Pack(walking) out.

True to our surmise, WomenCare was our first stop. There we encountered the hare-pair of Princess Di(arrhea) and (current) husband Thmp-Thmp. Libations were distributed and the next picture was distributed, obviously the entrance to New Brighton State Beach so it was down Park Avenue we journeyed. Steamy Baanorrhea searched in vain for the opening in the fence beside Highway 1 only to discover our highly efficient CalTrans crew have repaired this. Well, that’s understandable. It’s far easier to knit a fence back together than repair any of the damn potholes in the highway. We circled around.

Upon arriving at the park entrance, we encountered Occasional Rapist leaning against the sign swilling away on the alcoholic offering she had for us. She handed Steamy a picture and it was quite obviously campsite 69 in the campground area. Uh…it’s really dark, if one did not bring a torch they will most likely fall a great distance. But off we went. We went on-up from the road along a trail we took a few months ago and entered the campground, a surprising number of RV’s in attendance, and stumbled through the dark until finding dBASED at campsite 69.

The next picture was that of the intersection of Park Avenue and Coronado Street which is across Park from the tracks where we have started multiple times. Another trek into the darkened depths of the park was undertaken. Eventually we found the parking lot and from there it was a treacherous on-up to Park Avenue. As soon as we crested the hill, we were treated to the sight of Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-Thmp leisurely lounging and passing a huge flask back and forth.

After partaking of the offering here, Steamy Baanorrhea took off on the Eagle trail. Puff decided to follow him in case he needed medical assistance. The Eagles went back down the treacherous hill to the parking lot for the park and then on-down to the trail beside the beach heading back towards the campground. At the bottom of the long set of steps leading on-up to the campground, dBASED was observed. We were somewhat surprised to see him, and then he handed Steamy the picture. It was the intersection of Park Avenue and Coronado! The Eagle trail was, basically speaking, a YBF! Curse these hares. On-back we went.

Once back at the Liquor Check, the Turkeys had arrived and the place was in full-on party mode. Finally dragging ourselves on-out, we continued along Coronado and went on-left onto Sir Francis, on-right onto Cortez Street, on-left onto Columbus Drive, on-right onto Elinor Street which brought us to Monterey Avenue. Taking an on-right here brought us to a check at Kennedy Drive which was universally ignored. We proceeded along Kennedy to Park Avenue and hooked an on-left there. We believed we were finally on-in but the hares had one more dastardly deed to dump on us. Just prior to our starting point, another Beer Check was staged in a business parking lot. Finally, FINALLY, the hare pentagon was done jerking us around and we proceeded back to the start. The fire box was fired up and beers grabbed as Religious Adviser Pink Cherry Licker cranked up her Religion Machine. Here’s a sampling of the down-downs she issued: Steamy Baanorrhea was awarded a congratulatory down-down for marking trail; Flours For Anal Bum staring into a hole which had nothing inside it; Cold Smegma Kamikaze for refusing to believe a picture(!) and insisted trail went down to the Bay; Cum You Will Not was awarded Best Costume; dBASED and Pink Cherry Licker for screwing-up a hash song; Junk Puncher for his 275th hash with us; Cum You Will Not, Pink Cherry Licker and Snake Me Anywhere for saying they were doing fine and immediately became lost on trail and Flours For Anal Bum for not knowing even one small hash song. That concluded Religion. Oh, the pentagonal hare ensemble. Uh, thanks for the tamales, that’s the best we can say about ya! The face-feed finalized Hash Twelve-24 and I so do for this Trash as well.

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-24.

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

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Road Trip!

Our annual trip to copulate with the FHAC-U at their Christmas Hash in Los Gatos where we would (again) desecrate the hillside hacienda belonging to Worm. He must have a short memory or excellent homeowner’s insurance to continue allowing us ingress to his palace.

The first responders were, oddly enough, all Surf City hashers. We take the potential disasters that may befall us on treacherous Highway 17 and always leave far earlier than necessary. Soon the local denizens began slithering in though. Skid Mark was queen of the kitchen arranging the cornucopia of food that was arriving and Worm poured his winery’s latest release. The Arabian Goggler was testing the limits of his liver as usual. Little Anal Annie abandoned husband Butt Balls who had a business meeting. Driponya has made a rare quest appearance as has Gunga Dick. Chopped Liver, Ramrod and Just Gwen were in attendance. Chopped Liver also carried her yet-to-be-birthed with her. (Congratulations!) Dual Tools and Missile Anus stayed close together as if still on their honeymoon. Mr. Wiggly came all the way up from Monterey, I was not aware his probation officer allowed him to leave Monterey County. No Film was fashionably behind schedule, probably working late again. Baker’s Dozen’t wore a stunning jumpsuit but it proved more fashionable that feasible, damn difficult to unzip when time to visit the little boys room.

Some of the food intended for the face feed had already been violated when co-hares Missile Anus and Today Is Monday delivered a quick Instructions of Trail. Bring flashlights and money were the bottom line from their little speech. Well, there may have been other assertions but I spoke with no one that remembered any. Hares-away.

The next fifteen minutes, or something like that, were consumed with consuming. Name your drug of choice; beer, wine or food. I took note of the fact most hashers chose at least two of the above while some managed to find a third or even a fourth to add to their list of sins. No film at 11. Eventually though, the walkers walked out followed but a few minutes later by the runners. The runners received a complete Chalk Talk from Ramrod and then exited a long set of extremely treacherous steps on-down to Villa Avenue.

Before we light out on this trail, I’ll attempt a list of those that attended: Skid Mark, Fap Jack, Hareless, Pink Cherry Licker, Baker’s Dozen’t, The Arabian Goggler, Flours For Anal Bum, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Worm, Little Anal Annie, Gunga Dick, Driponya, Ramrod, Chopped Liver, Just Gwen, No Film, Hugh Heifer, Gary the Shitstain, Dual Tools(Up My Ass), Just John, Loose Lips, Back Door Boys, Shanghiney, Automated Penis Mover, Mr. Wiggly and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. There’s your list of losers, pack-out.

Well, we’re here, somewhere along Villa Avenue sniffing for trail. On-on was finally given a block away on-left on East Main Street. This lasted until we were forced to undertake the dangerous crossing of East Main and onto Church Street. This crosswalk was a tad short on lighting but miraculously every hound made it. This would bring us to Los Gatos Creek Trail where we were directed on-left onto a section of trail that have no damn lights at all. After passing under Main Street, trail continued in the darkness. This was where Skid Mark stopped and said this section of trail is two miles long before looping back to town, that can’t POSSIBLY be where they intend to take us! Soon, Cold Smegma Kamikaze came back towards us saying, Back Check! Trail was discovered on-up a small path and on-left onto West Main Street. This was followed by an on-left onto Montebello Way, on-right onto Broadway and on-left onto South Santa Cruz Avenue. A short distance later we were directed on-right across the street onto a driveway that dead ends at the front door of Hapa’s Brewing Company. First Beer Check for the runners.

After concluding our business here, it was on-out back to south Santa Cruz Avenue and on-left back to West Main where an arrow pointed the pod on-left. This is where the runners left civilization behind and entered the land of multi-million dollar mansions and Christmas decorations galore. My Los Gatos geographical knowledge being subpar, I can only make guesses as to where our hideous hare-pair dragged us. Here goes.

On-up West Main, on-right onto Bayview Avenue followed immediately by an on-right onto a pedestrian walkway beside Bayview Court. This would drop us into Fairview Plaza, a small neighborhood park. After this it was on-right onto Fairview Avenue. We then crossed Pennsylvania Avenue onto Peralta Avenue. Peralta ends at Hernandez Avenue and we turned on-right. One block later, Hernandez ends at Glen Ridge Avenue where we were pointed on-left. One block later it was on-left onto Nicholson Avenue. After another one block jaunt, the troops took an on-right onto Massol Avenue. There seems to be a one block theme developing here and it’s beginning to make me somewhere between dizzy and motion sick. One block later, yes, ONE block, it was on-left onto Bean Avenue. Bean was actually used more than a block, quite a few really. We traipsed all the way on-down into town to the bizarrely-monikered Victory Lane. It’s a damn dark alley, people!! We survived though. A short distance along we made an on-right to North Santa Cruz Avenue and then on-left past some high end restaurants. Many a concierge moved to block the entrance as the pack passed. Our destination had become apparent.

Liters of kamikazes flowed like the water in nearby Los Gatos Creek which prompted Ramrod and Missile Anus to lead the litter in a few rousing hash songs. No one seemed perturbed by our vocalizations though. Then again, it appeared a substantial percentage of the patrons were intoxicated. We completed our task and evacuated.

It was on-left a short distance and then on-right onto Royce Street and one block later, but of course, it was on-right onto University Avenue. Rumor Central contends there was another Beer Check at Carry Nation’s but I fell into with a band of teetotalers and missed such. Nonetheless, it was on-in this point forward.

Once back to destroying Worm’s abode, the face feed hit in force. Everyone strapped the feed bag on and I heard no complaints about anything from anyone. I did hear a few hashers say they were pretty sure they’d stuffed too much down their gullet though. I make the assumption they were referring to food as no one ever admits they’ve had too much to drink.

Next came the tradition White Elephant gift exchange. This is always the most anticipated event of the evening and went off well considering everyone’s condition, the cramped quarters and the swapping/stealing of gifts and the resulting selection of another gift by that person. It’s impossible to keep a lid on the festivities but Chopped Liver did a pretty damn good job. This continued until the living room floor was inundated with wrapping paper and the area beneath the tree was vacated.

This basically brought an end to FHAC-U hash 480 and Surf City hash twelve-23. Religion was skipped due to all the other activities on tap.

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 FHAC-U Hash 480 and Surf City Hash Twelve-23.

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, this Hash Trash has been compiled in Los Gatos, Ca. and printed in Santa Cruz, Ca. by permission of no one other than the author, on this, the Winter Solstice, the twenty-first day of December, in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Rain on our parade,

It would appear the gods of the Hash wished to prevent Dung-Fu Grip from perpetrating his recurring Christmas crime on us as the rare occurrence of water fell from the sky this evening. Sadly, these overseers underestimated Dung-Fu’s dedication to dastardly deeds and we were criminalized again.

Starting from what is arguably Santa Cruz’s most notorious dive bar, the (Nasty) Asti, rivaled only possibly by the Jury Room or the long-gone Lil’s Seaside Tavern, (I will not speak of it) sets the stage for the outrageous act to follow. Admittedly, a mop has finally been dragged across the floor of late and the smoke and blood stains have been painted over. However, the clientele has NOT been replaced so a visit here remains as sketchy as ever. And so, it was here(again) that Dung-Fu began his annual assault on our sensibilities.

The six o’clock hour is somewhat early for the creatures that frequent this establishment so, mercifully, the pack had the majority of this dark cave to ourselves. It gave us hope we would exit the facility prior to the arrival of people even hashers do not wish to associate with. To this end, our hare delivered Instructions of Trail only slightly past the standard 6:33. There was mention of a Liquor Check, a trail both short and flat(proved inaccurate), nice scenery(another fallacy) and one or two excellent photo ops( depended on your definition of ‘excellent’). Hare-away.

The next fifteen minutes was consumed by making our drinks disappear and keeping one eye on the door hoping it remained unused most of the time, at least by anyone other than our fellow kennel mates. For the most part it was too. Like I mentioned, it’s too early for the usual denizens of this den to slither in. Thankfully, before having to fear for our safety, co-GM’s Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain wisely called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following: Flours For Anal Bum, Clearly Not A Hooker, Cold Smegma Kamikaze, Steamy Baanorrhea, Hareless, Accuprick, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, 2 Dicks Down, Circle Gherkin’, Courtesy Flush, dBASED, Just Kamryn, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch, My Sister’s Dildo, Womb With A View, Virgin Slim and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week’s canine contingency consisted of only Junk Puncher. Pack out.

It was on-left out the door and across Laurel Street to an on-left onto Birch Lane. There, in the boarded-up doorway formerly giving access to the Poet and Patriot pub, we discovered Liquor Check. Seems appropriate enough.

Note the word ‘cothrom’ on the trim around the former door. That’s Gaelic for ‘opportunity’. In this context, the reference referred to your ability to drink Guinness on tap till 2AM. We soon moved on as this is a highly visible area. We continued to Cedar Street. A solved check pointed the pod on-right and one block later it was on-right again back to Pacific Avenue and on-left there. We fascinated passersby and embarrassed ourselves by traipsing a substantial portion of Pacific until reaching Soquel Avenue where we were led on-right then on-left on Frazier Lewis Lane to Front Street and on-left. At Cooper Street it was on-left and then on-left again to skirt around the edge of Abbott Square and on-right into the arcade back to Pacific. At Pacific it was on-right there and then on-left onto Locust Street. One block later, Cedar Street again, we went on-right and while I have no personal knowledge of such, a Gorilla Beer Check may have been instituted at the Red Room. We proceeded along Cedar to Mission Street and were directed on-left and on-up to Mission Hill.

At Sylvar Street we undertook the dangerous crossing of Mission Street and then on-right onto High Street. This took us within a lightning bolt’s distance from Holy Cross Church where the obligatory gang mug shot was taken.

Moving along before persons of importance noticed us, we proceeded to School Street and then on-down the Anthony steps to North Pacific. Here we were told to proceed on-left along Water Street to River Street and a check was discovered there. There ensued some confusion here and a copious quantity of time was expended. Hounds went in various directions and returned empty-pawed until marker was discovered north on the levee pathway and then on-left down a small hill leading to the path on-right under Water Street. Now it’s common knowledge the levee pathway is a questionable walk during daylight hours and off limits after the sun has vacated the sky. That was of course of no concern to our hare whom can outrun any of the questionable creatures that inhabit the levee in darkness. So, we banded together for safety’s sake and traversed the levee and then made the on-left onto the pedestrian bridge crossing above the mighty San Lorenzo River, through the park, on-right on Dakota Street and then across Soquel Avenue and on-right back onto the levee pathway behind Royal Taj Restaurant.

This would bring us to the Riverside Avenue bridge eventually. Just prior to that, a sharp-eyed Pink Cherry Licker spotted a tall person with horns on his head standing proud at the stairs atop Cliff Street. Either the Prince of Darkness was in town or the hare stood out in bold silhouette at Beer Check. Thankfully, it was the latter. Once across the bridge, trail led the litter into the darkened depths of Beach Flats, on-left onto Leibrandt, past the park to Beach Street and on-right past the Boardwalk. Then Cliff Street was utilized to it’s termination point overlooking the river. It was there the hare staged Beer Check, exactly where Pink Cherry Licker had spied him earlier.

Having completed our business here we proceeded on-down the steps and along Laurel Street Extension to the area behind Wheel Works. It was there Accuprick donned his Religious Adviser attire. Here’s a sampling of down-downs he issued: Courtesy Flush for playing a drinking game at Beer Check, backsliders were chastised and a naming was attempted(tabled for later). Religion was mercifully short as the rain now pelted our pelts mercilessly. This prompted the RA to declare an end to this Hash and I do the same for this Hash Trash.

On-on-on was conducted at Woodstock’s and saw Circle Gherkin’, Courtesy Flush and Pink Cherry Licker in attendance.

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-22.

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 thirteenth day of December in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with al respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3

Toying,

And not the pleasurable type either. While the pack kindly donated a multitude of gifts for those children growing up less fortunate than did you or I, hare-pair Occasional Rapist and dBASED availed themselves of our kind-hearted nature to jerk us through Soquel Village, a graveyard both dark and dreary and a muddy field. Details to follow.

This December debacle originated at J. J.’s Saloon and Social Club in the center of Soquel Village. This is a long time watering hole in these here parts, it’s reputation rivaled only by that of Sir Froggy’s Pub across the street. The clan commandeered a considerable quantity of tables, one of which became a storage facility for a growing number of toys which would eventually find their way to the Salvation Army. The first hare appeared around 6:25 dispelling the rumor that trail was so incompetent the hares had opted to not show for this hash. Around 6:40, the second hare having sheepishly appeared, Instructions of Trail were related.

With only a few hounds listening, co-hare dBASED informs us trail will now start from Redz Hair Design on Porter Street. This business was formerly owned by our own Summer’s Yeast. Rumor Central has advanced possible reasons for her selling this fine establishment but since moral issues and sex play a prominent role in these rumors, I will not commit them to the official record. Hares out.

The party resumed with only a slight hiccup. As the seven o’clock hour approached, it dawned on co-GM Cumz Out My Nose, she should consider calling for Circleup for Introductions. Her action resulted in hearing from the following: Snake Me Anywhere, Clearly Not A Hooker, Wicked Retahted, Circle Gherkin’, Virgin Bryan, TIMMY!!, Steamy Baanorrhea, Princess Di(arrhea), Thmp-Thmp, Flours for Anal Bum, Virgin Patricia, Virgin Slim, Rubik’s Pube, Jersey Lunchbox, Just Ning, Cum You Will Not and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. This week’s canine contingency was Swamp Rat, Junk Puncher and Spot’d Dick. Pack away.

This was the shortest trail in world history. We crossed Porter Street to Redz. Once to Redz, the toys were deposited in the barrel in the narthex, we continued to flood into the interior and met the new owner whom had a large plate of cookies for us to munch. She appreciated the toy delivery which would make her a hero with the Salvation Army and we appreciated being fed delicious homemade cookies. All in all, an equitable trade I believe all would agree. Now, for the second time on this hash, the pack outed again.

A check in front of Redz pointed the pod back across Porter Street and on-right but only for a short distance. We took an on-left onto the Heart of Soquel Parkway which motivates behind Soquel Elementary School, over Soquel Creek to East Walnut Street and a check. Trail was discovered on-up East Walnut and on-left on Center Street which involved the dangerous crossing of Soquel Drive. Hares don’t care.

Center Street eventually makes an on-left and morphs into Bridge Street. Why Bridge Street? Well, there’s a bridge imminently in your future. Once across said bridge, we were directed on-right on Paper Mill Road and then on-left on O’Neill Lane and then to undertake the dangerous crossing of Old San Jose Road. Hares don’t care. Safely across, we were pointed on-right but again, only for a short distance. Soon we were coerced into crossing Old San Jose Road again and into…a cemetery! We entered Soquel Cemetery on the south side and proceeded north through Beit Olam Cemetery, the Jewish section, also known as Eternal Home Cemetery. Mercifully not too muddy but this grace was compensated for by creepy shadows and a lessening of marker the deeper we dug. So to speak. Eventually as headstones gave way to trees, we were pointed back to Old San Jose Road and forced into another dangerous crossing thereof. Hares don’t care.

Once across Old San Jose Road intact, it was on-right, again for a short distance, before being directed on-left onto Hilltop Road. The very first on-left, Cindy Lane, is a Christmas light-lovers dream. Every house on the street is as brightly lit as Broadway on opening night of a hit play. And we know this because? Because we could see it as trail callously passed it by continuing on-up Hilltop Road. However, like moth to a flame, the walker contingency including Thmp-Thmp, Princess Di(arrhea), Rubik’s Pube, Flours, Circle Gherkin’ and Just Ning were suckered into walking the street to take in the sights and hoping for a way out. Wrong! They had to reverse course and rejoin true trail. This threw them far behind the pack and made many think they were completely lost. They DID manage to find Beer Check though.

Back to trail.

Two street past Cindy Lane, Valera Drive, we were directed on-left. At the end of this street, we transitioned into Anna Jean Cummings Park, AKA Blue Balls Park, and on-right onto a track surrounding the football field. Then it was across the parking lot onto a muddy patch leading onto Soquel High School, past the baseball field and past a huge pile of discarded outdoor flood lights. What was THAT all about?!? Trail continued along a dirt road past the swimming pool where training activities were still taking place. We then wove our way around and through a huge garden and flower plot the kids are tending. Then it was on-right and on-down to merge with a paved path leading into the backside of the parking lot for Hope Church. (Trivia: this building was the original home of Frenchy’s) It was here the hares staged Beer Check.

After the Christmas light-viewing lost dogs stumbled in and partook, the pack migrated back to Heart of Soquel Park, usual location, for Religion. dBASED assumed the reins and here’s a sampling of down-downs issued: Puff for not giving a Chalk Talk to the Virgin, Jersey Lunchbox for missing a back check mark the size of a manhole cover, Clearly Not A Hooker who said she’d do Eagle trail them wimped out, backslider down-downs for Princess Di(arrhea) and (current) husband Thmp-Thmp. Oh, the hare-pair. We thanked them for arranging for the cookies but could find little else we liked about trail. We then persuaded co-hare and RA dBASED to let his people go! And he did. And there was much rejoicing. I, too, hereby release you from this week’s 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 let the profound 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 to not 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-21.

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 seventh day of December in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

Turkey Day plus one,

While today IS one day past Thanksgiving, the ‘plus one’ refers to the hare we were burdened with this week. Steamy Baanorrhea, our long-lived Beermeister, should stick to supplying us with libation and leave the haring to others.

Let’s give a little background on Point A, The Mediterranean. In May of 1978 a ’74 graduate of UCSC was in the Med having a drink, or five. Someone made a disparaging remark about him and one of his friends took umbrage and decided to take it out of the man’s hide. This man was armed but handed the gun to our protagonist and the fight proceeded. The man now holding the .45 caliber pistol fired it once in the air. The bullet hole is probably still there. The man that leveled the insult was coming out on the short end of the stick and left the barroom in a hurry. Someone had called the cops and just as the patrons ran out the front door, a sheriff’s deputy pulled up as they yelled, He’s got a gun! The three men were just pulling away and were pointed out and arrested a short distance away. The trigger man at the center of this melee was Huey Newton, co-founder of the Black Panther Party. And THIS is the place Steamy decided we should venture into.

I should not fail to mention two visitors, Piss Pyle and his lovely wife BMX. They are Ahoha H3 hashers on Ohau. Their next to last visit with us was in Henry Cowell for Hash 1044 when the rangers busted us for being in the park after dark and consuming alcoholic beverages as well. They have mostly avoided us since.

In other news…dBASED, Occasional Rapist and Junk Puncher miss their second consecutive hash. Scratch and Sniff is as uncontrollable as ever. Circle Gherkin’ approves of his new name and said it drives him to commit frequent pleasurable acts upon himself. Accuprick is hosting a party for son No Poles and has learned guests are coming in from other States!

Eventually, Steamy Baanorrhea delivered a true turkey’s version of Instructions of Trail. Turkey Trail was short and Eagle only a mile more, more or less. There would be a Liquor Check AND a Beer Check. This was the only part of his tale that garnered applause. Hare away.

The next fifteen was it’s usual lackadaisical self, a little bit of talking and a little bit of drinkin’. And a whole lot of nothing. Soon enough though, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested Circleup for Introductions and heard responses from: Cum You Will not, Flours For Anal Bum, Accuprick, BMX, Piss Pyle, Clearly Not A Hooker, Pink Cherry Licker, Circle Gherkin’, Hugh Heifer, Dung-Fu Grip and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Today’s canine contingency was Spot’d Dick and Scratch and Sniff. Pack out.

We traipsed Center Avenue across State Park Drive to make an on-left onto Coates Drive. This took the troops to Beachgate Way where the anticipated on-left on-down to Las Olas Drive and on-left there. A whichy-way at the base of the stairs leading back on-up to the parking lot proved continuing forward on the boardwalk past the Cement Ship was correct. At the intersection with Aptos Beach Drive and Beach Drive, the promised Turkey/Eagle split was encountered. It’s too nice a day to not take the Eagle trail. So off we go.

Beach Drive is long and straight but at least it’s scenic. The breakers were breaking hard on the sand, triple sets were overhead as the surfers may have said. As we neared the end of Beach Drive, a pedestrian path turns on-left and on-up to Kenneth Drive and on-right across Cliff Drive to Townsend Drive and on-left there. One block later it was on-left onto Farley Drive and one block later on-right back to Cliff Drive and on-right. A rather pointless circle jerk I must say. Cliff was used until Florence Drive where we were directed on-right and a block later, on-right onto Martin Drive. The next on-left, Kingsbury Drive, was our goal. Then a block later we went on-left onto Townsends Drive, across Rio Del Mar Boulevard and onto Aptos Beach Drive. We would endure a long and steep on-down to transition onto Treasure Island and on-left onto Spreckles Drive followed by an quick on-left onto Moosehead Drive. Well, at least we’re heading in the direction of home.

An on-right onto Winfield Way takes one over Aptos Creek onto Creek Way and there it was on-left until the end of the road. There we entered a field and went on-right and on-up a steep footpath leading on-up to Seacliff Drive. Partway up, arrows pointed on-left and on-up a dangerously steep mountain goat trail precariously perched on a precipice. It was here our hideous hare staged Liquor Check.

The descent proved far more life-threatening than the climb on-up but a count at Beer Check proved every hound survived this idiotic encounter. Once back on the high ground and on-left onto Seacliff Drive, it was a leisurely stroll to on-right onto El Camino Del Mar, on-left onto Santa Clara Avenue and on-right onto Center Avenue and on-in to Beer Check at Accuprick’s abode.

A good time was had by all at the old cliche goes but soon enough it was on-out to begin Religion. This was staged in the usual place on Santa Cruz Avenue behind the Mediterranean. Accuprick assumed the role of Religious Adviser and this is a sampling of down-downs issued: Dung-Fu Grip celebrated his 400th hash with us; our Hawaiian visitors were welcomed; Accuprick punished for hashing a ‘different’ trail; Cumz Out My Nose chided for auto-hashing. that was about it for….oh. That damned hare. Steamy was thanked for the scenery and his extended stint as Beermeister which ended this day. I did not, however, hear any compliments about his trail. After the hare was spanked, Accuprick dismissed the pack and I hereby do the same now for you, faithful reader.

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-20.

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 November in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,

Puff

the

Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe