KAREN’S KAUAI/ MY KAUAI

One difference between Karen Holt’s Kauai and  mine, is she  didn’t have to deal with millions of tons of  Japanese debris descending on us. Hope you remember Karen. She’s one of my favorite characters and the major narrator of my larcenous, licentious and litigious piece of humorous fiction, THE SCAM.

Like our own wonderful novelist, JILL MARIE LANDIS, I, too, hope to have a book signing party at Tahiti Nui. She’ll be there tomorrow between 3 and 5 p.m. Can’t wait to read MAI TAI ONE ON. Darling title, can’t wait to read it. Meet you there.

Until then, however, something has come up. An interesting fellow by the name of Mitchel Tyranny has written  a  letter to the Garden island Forum cheerfully heralding the demise of  the state of Hawaii.

“Could be,” wrote Mitchel, “that the whole state of Hawaii’ll need to be evacuated. Sad about that.”

Actually he didn’t sound  sad at all, so I phoned him-he’s in Colorado- and asked him to come to Kauai and discuss the issue.

I started the conversation- it was my five bucks, after all- introduced myself. “Mitchel,” I said, “your letter interests me. I’ll send you a ticket to Kauai, if you’ll come to my party and talk to us.”

“Who us?”

“Friends on Kauai.”

“Kauai. Hawaii. The mongrel state.”

“Mongrel state? I have a puppy, Boots, who’s part Pit bull.  Don’t think she’s a mongrel, but if you object to her presence I’ll lock her up.”

“What color your friends?” his voice sneered.

“Human colored. Most of them. Do you have a preference?”

“Yeah. All white. No browns, blacks, or yellows.”

“Done,” I said.  “Tickets at the airport. A car’ll be  waiting.”

I busied myself in preparation and when he arrived, met him at the gate. An ordinary looking skin head, overweight and snappily attired in brown shirt and storm boots, he barged through the gates. “Jap car. Hate Jap cars.”

“It was all I could afford. Forgive me.” He sneered for real.

I graciously invited him in and seated him on the couch. My  friends, as much as they loved me, sat at the table or in plastic chairs I’d borrowed for the occasion. He looked them up and down. They looked him back. No one spoke.

“German beer? Weiner schnitzel?”

“No cross? No flag? Where’s your patriotism?” He slurped the beer straight from the bottle. Bit the weenie.

I got right to the point. The vehicle waiting to get him out of here was warming up. “Are you really so happy to see Hawaii, the fish, everything sbout this lovely island go down the tube?”

“Damn right. Sooner the better,” he began to drool.  “Mongrels. The lot of you.”

“Even the fish?” I handed him another beer. This one sweetly laced.

“Seen one. Seen’em all.”

“If we have to evacuate, where’ll we go?” All eyes at the party were on this man.

“We got places for you to go.”

“Pleasant places, I hope.”

If you like ovens,” he giggled and fell off the couch.

The friendly blues, who’d taken human form for the occasion, levitated him to the space shuttle.

They shook their heads. “There’s always hope, ”  they sighed.

I turned Boots lose and fed her the last of the schnitzle.