While I do not find the above photo especially representative of Hash 601, anyone that takes almost a year to complete their fifth hash deserves all the abuse I can dump upon them. And believe me, this man deserves to be dumped on.
We’ll get to him later though, right now it’s our hideous hare that begs a hard humping.
Hugh Heifer assembled the herd at Boulder Creek Brewery, a good candidate for a new sitcom/murder mystery entitled CSI: Boulder Creek. Things went awry from the get-go: someone absconded with the hare’s flour bag. This set the tone for the comedy of errors that was to follow.
Hugh outed herself with Instructions of Trail that promised nothing more than that there will be beer for those few of us lucky enough to stumble across Beer Check. Couple Hugh’s innate poor trail-laying skills with her desire to retain as much of Beer Check beer as possible for personal use later and you have the formula for a disastrous trail rivaling that of one of TIMMY ‘s failed efforts.
Fifteen minutes later Banana Basher circled-up the pack on the main street of Boulder Creek, California, for the six-hundredth edition of this merry madness which forever be known as Surf City Hash 601.
Trail started out pleasantly enough heading out of town on Highway 9 towards Santa Cruz. With 20-20 hindsight, I should have continued walking in the direction of Santa Cruz and ignored the first check at the intersection with Mountain Street. (Gee, what an original name for a street located in the Santa Cruz MOUNTAINS!) TIMMY crossed Highway 9 on-right and at the next street, Boulder Street,( BOULDER Street? ANOTHER example of avant-guarde thinking) sounded the on-on. This happened almost simultaneously with hearing the on-on given a block away. TIMMY and Tiny Whiny Bitch turned in that direction but soon realized they were hashing trail backwards. By the time they returned, the rest of the pack had already moved on turning on-right on Boulder. A block later a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left on Harmon Street which later, for no apparent reason, morphs into Bush Street.
Bush ends at the playground entrance to a school coercing the clan to enter the hash-restricted area of school grounds. Trail proceed directly across the playground and exited onto Redwood Avenue. (REDWOOD? Who comes up with all these clever names?!?) Vince Lamblowme, however, found it more fun to wander aimlessly around the school grounds, most likely waiting on the return of the children. Redwood on-downs to end at Big Basin Highway. Only the simplest-minded among us thought trail could possibly go on-left so a leap of faith turned the troops on-right and back towards town.
Just before Highway 9 our hideous hare pointed the pod on-left into a bank parking lot and then to Highway 9 beside the old Adelita’s Restaurant. (Sit at table 9 and order chicken enchiladas to get the “house special”. Ask TIMMY, he will remember what was placed in front of you then) Trail took the troops across busy (not to mention ‘dangerous’) Highway 9 onto Middleton Avenue. A few blocks along, just as we reached scenic Boulder Creek Park, the beauty of our surroundings was spoiled by the sight of a back check marking. After recovering from the shock of how vindictive and small-minded our hare was, the horde of hounds reversed course. Mercifully, we only were made to traverse only one block to Railroad Avenue (there is no railroad with ten miles of this town) where an on-left and half a block placed us at the site of Beer Check.
Our hash duty fulfilled here, a rather lengthy (and uncalled for in my opinion) on-in was undertaken to our usual site for Religion on faraway Oak Street. Here’s a brief recap of the tragedies that befell Surf City once there.
Pussy Galore acquiesced to be Religious Adviser though the moniker Sergeant-at-Arms may be more applicable in HER case! She made Boner Malfunction, a malady she is known to despise, her Beer Fairy. Here’s what she did to us tonight: Tiny Whiny Bitch and Occasional Rapist were punished for conducting a private party…twice!; Get Up and Run,Bitch was congratulated for the (foolish) completion of her fifth hash with Surf City; Great Barrier Queef and Boner Malfunction were punished as backsliders; Hugh Heifer was chided for being too drunk to visit Pussy Galore this past weekend; dBASED and Occasional Rapist were congratulated on their (semi) successful ambassadorship to InterAmerica’s Hash in Savannah(what happened to Shallow Hole?); Virgin Terisa was welcomed to the hash; across-the-street homeowner Kenny was treated to a down-down to prevent a call to the cops and lastly (drum roll, please) we were FINALLY able to bid a fond farewell to Just Chad and after almost a year of trying give him a forever hash name of Thmp-Thmp. If you want to know more than that (who cares?) ask him how he became saddled with that sad moniker. Oh, yeah. Our damned hare. While uncertainty is the unavoidable human condition, I have come to depend on Hugh’s recycling of her trails that were not pleasurable even the FIRST time. And I’ve yet to be disappointed with her, at least in this respect. As many of you know, Hugh was married at a previous point in time, the result of which was, first, Edgar’s Girlfriend(left the country to avoid prosecution) and secondly, a well-deserved divorce. Hugh once said to me, “I never knew what happiness was until I was married, but by then it was too late.” The pack now knows what it’s like to be married to Hugh.
On-on-on was at Joe’s where, sadly, TIMMY seemed to know more people than the beertender. We also ran into Captain Jack Swallows again who had left Boulder Creek Brewery to get away from us. Poor bastard.
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-second day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand eleven.
On-out,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen