Ta-da!
Yes, it’s the voluntary but reluctant one-time only return of Puff the Magic Drag Queen as your Scribe.
I am more than happy to pen the Trash this week as I consider Shallow Hole and Occasional Rapist far too nice and meek to ream this week’s hare-pair as they so richly deserve.
Trail began innocuous enough (as they usually do) beginning from fabled Britannia Arms in Aptos. That is, sadly, almost the only kindness shown us by Surf City’s most infamous hare-pair, that being the dastardly duo of Butt Balls and his (very) close friend Weiner. These two jokers have a history with Surf City that reads like a Who’s Who of Horror.
Speaking of history, here’s a short lesson. These two clowns laid Surf City’s first ‘live hare’ trail. A sheriff’s deputy, in the area of trail on an unrelated matter, observed Butt Balls attempting to get rid of a considerable quantity of cocaine by throwing it on the ground and running away. Or so he thought. He detained Butt Balls when he was unable to produce any identification as he was in shorts and tee shirt, not on his way to the grocery store. Unbelievably but luckily, Butt Balls was able to remember his drivers license number and as the deputy checked it out, he explained what he was doing. Things were progressing well until, in the distance, Butt Balls heard a whistle followed by someone yelling, On-on! Beads of sweat began to appear on Butt Balls’ forehead and upper lip making the deputy suspicious of Butt Balls story about laying a trail for a running club. However, once his license number cleared him and an admonishment from the deputy about his ‘bizarre and disturbing behavior’, he was turned loose. Butt Balls took off like a raped ape an didn’t look back fearing he’d see the pack advancing on him. He soon rendezvoused with an anxious Weiner. He related his tale as they laid the rest of trail.
Those were the good old days though. Now it’s 2012 and Butt Balls and Weiner continue to punish us annually as if it’s OUR fault he was nabbed by the local constabulary eleven years ago.
Instructions of Trail were relayed by Butt Balls while Weiner stood beside him trying not to laugh when he stated trail was short. When it comes to Butt Balls and IoT, his ethics are not to be trusted and his information not to be believed. After they outed themselves, the more experienced Surf City hashers informed those that have joined within the past year that both Butt Balls and Weiner are lying sacks of mud and neither to be believed NOR trusted.
Fifteen minutes later TIMMY signaled for a circleup in front of the Brit and introductions were made. Then it was time for the real hashers to say goodbye to our notorious short-cutters, Banana Basher, et al., who would do their damnedest to avoid setting so much as one rear paw on trail.
The first check was observed near the railroad tracks on Aptos Creek Road. Marker was located heading towards the Forest of Nisene Marks but ended with false markings. The next few minutes were consumed by the proverbial Chinese fire drill as hashers ran willy-nilly like the Keystone Cops sniffing for trail. Eventually, trail was located up Aptos Creek Road but shy of the false markings and on-right. This use of false markings/back check was deemed unacceptable and would net the hares a down-down during Religion.
Trail led the litter along a dirt road and onto Granite Way to a check at Cathedral Drive. Most guessed on-right and were correct and they guessed the same at the next check at Trout Gulch Road. Just shy of Soquel Drive marker made the merry members of this madness on-left onto Valencia Street. When Valencia came to the railroad tracks we were told to begin some cross-tie walking. On-left we went onto the tracks and over Highway 1 on a rickety old train trestle. Little Anal Annie was forced to carry dog Farley as he balked at crossing the trestle where he could see through the grating to the road below.
Just across the trestle, a check was solved and the troops turned on-right onto a narrow, debris-cluttered locals-only path between two houses that led us to the criminally-steep on-up of Carrera Circle which was topped by a check at the intersection with Shoreview Drive. On-right was surmised and was correct, confirmed by Annie’s distinctive whistle. Shoreview curves on-left and morphs into Aptos Beach Drive. The next check was at Spreckles Drive.
This check proved problematic for some reason. Eventually solved though, the harried herd headed on-right on Spreckles. Spreckles heads on-down and curves on-right back towards Highway 1. A check at Seacliff Drive East fooled no one but Puff, the rest of the pack headed on-up Spreckles and were then forced on-up a hill at Soquel Drive and on-left onto the tracks. Not far along the tracks, a hole in the always-cut-open fence gave the pack entry to a small shopping center. From there it was up the steps to Aptos Rancho Shopping Center and behind the building to State Park Drive.
Even though we were aware Religion would be in Little Anal Annie’s Garden Paradise, we were questioning if Beer Check would be there as well. After eliminating all other possibilities, we trudged on-up Sunset Way and found marker that delivered us to Annie and Butt Balls’ home.
Upon the arrival of our DFL trio, Canadian Penny Slut, Bang My Blister and Cuff My Muff, Religious Adviser Accuprick appointed Pixilated Obscenity as Beer Fairy and religion was convened.
Here is a sampling of the judgments passed tonight by the RA: Today Is Monday for foolishly driving all the way from San Jose, Thmp-Thmp for his Liberace impression by wearing a gold lame jacket, Broke Bench Mountain for peeing in Butt Balls’ yard, Penny Slut, Blister and Muff for being DFLs, Daddee’s Little Helmet and Mother’s Little Felcher as our Mama & Papa team, Butt Balls for his improper false/back check, DuuHHH for arriving very late again, Deep Stroke for not wearing any hash attire, Just Kim for shaking her butt as she trudged along the railroad tracks, Butt Balls for the (semi) successful completion of his 50th haring for us and Vince Lamblowme for not paying attention in circleup to what was going on with Religion. There were probably more but those people did not contribute to the success of this hash so I have purposely ignored them. I find it difficult to feel sorry for hashers when I witness such opulent self-destruction. I feel certain most of my kennel mates have had hangovers so majestic they would kneel before them and weep.
On-on-on was back at the Brit, much to the chagrin of management I imagine. Luckily for them, many hashers stayed at Butt Balls & Annie’s to pester them instead of returning to the Brit.
By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty “G”, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the fifteenth day of January in the year of our Hash two-thousand twelve.
On-out,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen
