Hash Twelve-63: Hard road to the Castle, no moat needed


Is what we are when beginning from Henfling’s Tavern in Ben Lomond. We are considered outsiders in this place. We wear shoes, we still have a mouthful of teeth. We are well-versed in the King’s English. We not only know the day of the week but the YEAR as well.

Let’s copulate this with having only one hare and, worse yet, this harriette happens to live just across the street. This would appear to be a fantastic formula for failure. And there will be no rejoicing.

The fact this was the (occasionally) annual Beat Yur Meat and benefit for Second Harvest Food Bank was the only factoid that induced (seduced?) many of us into attending. We were also treated to a rare visitation by Rubik Pube’s canine companion Mack, AKA Ridiculously- Shaped Dog. Hugh Heifer agreed to accompany him along trail. RSD doesn’t Hash anymore, his aged joints are not happy with such strenuous antics. We also witnessed the return of Moose Turd Pie. As a Lompico (lom-tweak-o) land baron, he does not come down from his private mountaintop estate very often. The over-the-hill contingency (location-wise not age-wise) consisted of Missile Anus, Dual Tools, Worm, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, Gary the Shit Stain and No Film. Even old timers Rainbow Butthole and Wines Like A Bitch emerged from the business persona and rejoined the pack. Vying for the No Film Award would be Courtesy Flush and (current) partner Virgin Clarissa (with canine companion Rocket). Nice they could join us nonetheless. The players are in position, let’s proceed.

Lone hare Rubik’s Pube delivered what may be the shortest Instructions of Trail in recent memory. The majority of the pack did not even hear them. I started to say MISSED Instructions of Trail but then decided they did not MISS anything. Hare away.

For the next fifteen minutes there was a plethora of chatting and some rapid imbibing by those that were accustomed to Surf City on-out time being quite fluid and were surprised upon learning today’s hare actually did conform to the advertised time of 6:33. Once those fifteen had evaporated, GMs Cumz Out My Nose and Broke Bench Mountain requested those in attendance to assume the proper position for Circleup for Introductions which resulted in responses from: Moose Turd Pie, Circle Gherkin’, Steamy Baanorrhea, Missile Anus, Worm, Occasional Rapist, Cum,U Will Not!, Hugh Heifer, TIMMY!!, Dual Tools(Up My Ass), Clearly Not A Hooker, Pink Cherry Licker, Rainbow Butthole, Wines Like A Bitch, Gary the Shit Stain, Today Is Monday, The Arabian Goggler, No Film, Courtesy Flush, Virgin Clarissa and Puff the Magic Drag Queen. Our canine contingency was Swamp Rat(co-haring), Ridiculously-Shaped Dog, Scratch and Sniff, Junk Puncher and Rocket. Pack out.

The pack proceeded on-right from Henfling’s beside Highway 9 until encountering a hare arrow turning the troops on-right onto Fillmore Avenue and one block later on-left onto Central Avenue. One block later another hare arrow led the litter on-right onto Sunnyside Avenue. Along here, the runners caught up with some smarties that, being familiar with the geography, had managed to shortcut a substantial section of trail. Short-cutting bastards! When Sunnyside finds it’s terminus, it was on-left onto Love Creek Road and the beginning of a slight on-up. Worse yet, there was precious little room to spare as vehicles hurled past at extreme rates of speed. Thanks, hare!!

Soon but not soon enough we intersected with Brookside Avenue and an on-right was indicated there. Well, at least we’re finally heading in the direction of home. This was a gentle on-down culminating with a gentle bend on-right onto Glen Arbor Road which very soon brought us back into town and within a block of Henfling’s. Here we were pointed on-left and soon to make an on-right onto Hillside Avenue(isn’t EVERY road here on the side of a damn hill?!?) and one block later on-right onto Old County Road. It’s a road only by virtue of the fact vehicles occasionally traverse it’s pothole-filled surface. Eventually we crossed a (very) expensive bridge giving access to Brook Road. Brook Road is less than three tenths of a mile long, not much longer than the million dollar bridge leading to it. At the intersection of Old County Road and Brook Road, we encountered our hare and her little dog at Beer Check. NOW there was some rejoicing.

The remainder of trail was uneventful (read: dreary!) except a one hundred yard section of Highway 9 which possessed precious little room for humans now within the confines of a vehicle. Everyone found it within themselves to run THIS section of trail. It culminated with a spectacular view of the San Lorenzo River and our destination, the castle, residing on the opposite bank. Upon arrival, Steamy Baanorrhea and Moose Turd Pie were observed high above the yard plying their trade as chefs and toiling over grilles broasting our meat. Food flew in all directions as hounds strapped on the feed bag. I must mention one of the offerings, TIMMY’s eggplant-based dip, was of the highest quality.

After becoming sufficiently sated, Pink Cherry Licker cranked up her Religion machine. Here’s a sampling of down-downs distributed this night: Gary for blood on trail; TIM and Goggler for not doing trail; Moose Turd Pie as a short-cutter; the No Film Award went to…No Film!; dBASED for wearing an ancient W2B shirt; the over-the hill contingency were recognized; backsliders were punished; Virgin Clarissa was welcomed; the grille masters were thanked; Rubik’s Pube celebrated her 10th haring. On-on-on started now and… Oops, the hare. Rubik was told we appreciated the loaning of her castle to us again and she could continue doing so. However, being the hare again was out of the question. On-on-on continued right where we were. This Hash is over.

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 become 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-63.

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 August in the year of our Hash two-thousand twenty-three.

Submitted with all respect due,



Magic Drag Queen

Surf City H3 Scribe

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