Hash 1187 3 hares, 3 times the mistakes


To Abbott Square where a tri-power group of hares will give an alternative meaning to the word ‘square’. While trail itself proved to be circular, more or less, the persons laying said trail lacked even a modicum of the social graces. Allow me to illustrate.

Pleasantries were exchanged at Abbott Square while awaiting the arrival of all three hares. Apparently they did not begin their pre-lay early enough. Sadly, this was but the first of a number of miscalculations on their part. Eventually though all the hares appeared and immediately put their little pointed heads together to put the final touches on their trail.

Hares confer on how to solve problems with their trail. They were unsuccessful.

After conferring for a number of minutes, they concluded it was far too late in the game to salvage even a mediocre trail so they went with what they had. More than a little sweat was evident when the hares delivered an unconvincing Instructions of Trail. They hopped off.

By virtue of the fact few people listened to their dreary soliloquy, no one took note of the direction in which they departed. This would plague us in the future. After the fifteen minute lead time, co-GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain called for Circleup for Introductions and heard from the following hounds: Cum You Will Not, Wicked Retahted, Baker’s Dozen’t, Leaky Rubber, Pink Cherry Licker, TIMMY!!, Accuprick, Steamy Baanorrhea, Just Kamryn, Womb With A View, My Sister’s Dildo, Hugh Heifer, L’eggs, Virgin Ginger, Virgin Monroney, Virgin Mike, Ska-Skank Redemption, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Snake Me Anywhere and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Boulder, Junk Puncher and Spott’d Dick represented the four-legged hound entourage.

We proceeded to the corner of Cooper Street and Pacific Avenue where we would take up residence for an extended period.

Pack came to a standstill at the intersection of Cooper and Pacific

A whistle was heard far up Pacific so off the pack went but upon arriving at the top of the Mall, no marker was to be found. Then whistle was again heard but this time from Plaza Lane. The pack went back down Pacific and finally did see the reason for all that whistling. Marker was found and took the troops to Cedar Street where and on-right was indicated bringing us to the intersection with Center and Chestnut streets. Here was another: Which way did they go, which way did they go? moment. Hounds were sent scurrying a number of directions until one sounded a whistle down Chestnut Street. This street, incidentally, takes one past what must be the most bizarrely named street in Santa Cruz: Squid Row. After over four and a half decades here, I’ve yet to encounter a member of the cephalopod family on this bleak street. Somewhere along here reputedly was a Turkey/Eagle split. While I did not personally see such, I do remember seeing Dung-Fu Grip take off on-right on-up the Green Street hill and not return. I hope he enjoyed his visit.

The majority of the pack continued along Chestnut Street until it junctions with Chestnut Street Extension and Rincon Street. Here, between speeding cars, we were directed to cross Chestnut and take the locals-only walkway on-up to the continuation of Locust Street and on-right when it ends at Mission Street. This would bring us to the massive intersection with King and Union streets. This would have been an acceptable location for Beer Check as it takes so damn long for the pedestrian signal to illuminate.

My Sister’s Dildo, Womb With A View and Just Kamryn wait for the forever signal at Mission and King streets.

Once across Mission, we were treated to a repeat performance in an attempt to cross King Street. After completing this dreary task we hoofed it to Highland Avenue where we were again coerced into placing our lives into the hands of car drivers as we crossed. Once safely across, we were directed on-left and on-up to High Street where an on-right was indicated. The pedestrian over-crossing was used and then an on-left down the locals-only path leading to Potrero Street and not far on-down Potrero we stumbled over Rubik’s Pube manning Liquor Check. It was Cinco de Mayo so tequila was one of the options.

After concluding our business here, it was on-down to River Street and across to the River Street Shopping Plaza, across the huge parking lot, on-up to the top of the levee, on-left there and across the pedestrian bridge over the river. Once across, we undertook the boring task of traversing the entire length of the levee to Water Street with the exception of the last hundred yards where we were directed to on-down into the parking lot for the county jail, AKA the Hound Pound. After successfully tip-toeing through the parking lot, it was on-left at Water Street and on-right at the intersection with Ocean Street. Then we were pointed on-right through the parking lot of the hideously ugly County building and on-left into San Lorenzo Park. We exited the park to Dakota Street and on-right to cross Soquel Avenue and across Broadway and soon into the backyard of Clearly Not A Hooker’s home.

Clearly Not A Hooker (foolishly) hosted Beer Check

There was food all over the place and a great amount of time was spent here trying to make it all disappear. Eventually though we moseyed to the top floor of the parking garage on River Street where Accuprick fired-up his RA machine. Here’s a partial listing of down-downs dispensed: Pink Cherry Licker and L’eggs crooned a new tune for us about underwear, Underwhere? was punished for not knowing a song that pertains to him, Short-cutters were busted, Hugh Heifer was congratulated on getting a new job, Ska-Skank Redemption was congratulated for going to Trinidad for InterHash…even though it was cancelled(!), those who’s dogs pooped on trail. Lastly, the hares were punished. That brought an end to this Hash and that brings an end to 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.

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.

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 ninth day of May in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-two.

Submitted with all respect due,



Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

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