The Big Cowhuna

by Mike Litwin

  Most of Bermooda had gathered to watch the contest. Everyone was sitting under colorful umbrellas that dotted the beach like drops of candy. In the middle of the herd, DJ Angus Atkins was setting up equipment on a platform. Angus had come down from his radio station atop the mountain to broadcast the contest on WKUD.

  Dakota’s new tail twitched and swished with excitement. Moving through the swarm of umbrellas, he was sure that someone here would know him. Chuck and Dakota waded through a sea of familiar faces. There were calves from school, cows from the village, creatures from all over the island … but none of them recognized the little brown cow walking beside Chuck. They asked questions much like the ones Patty had asked at the Porter House:

  “Hey, who’s the new calf?”

  “Where’s Dakota? Is he sick?”

  “Isn’t your brother usually with you?”

  The afternoon heat was not making Dakota’s stomachache feel any better, and the questions just made him feel even worse.

  “All I wanted was to fit in,” Dakota grumbled. “Now I do. So why am I in such an awful mooooood?” He covered his mouth with a hoof, surprised at how naturally the moo had come out.

  “Maybe you were better off being yourself,” Chuck suggested.

  “Myself in disguise!” Dakota argued.

  “It was still better than being a stranger, wasn’t it?” Chuck said.

  Dakota grimaced at the twisted purple shell in Chuck’s hooves. “I can’t believe you brought that thing with you.”

  “I didn’t want Patty to find it. She’s so nosy.” Chuck peered into the shell as they walked. “I wonder what I should wish for.”

  “Careful, these wishes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” Dakota warned.

  “Oh, hush,” Chuck snapped. “You got your wish. Now it’s my turn. Should I wish to be as rich as the Wellingtons? Or maybe as smart as Cornelius?”

  “Maybe we should go back to the Hortica Center and take another look at that book,” Dakota cut in. “Maybe it can tell us something we might need to know.”

  “Now?” Chuck asked. “The contest is about to start! Besides, what more do we need to know?” He waved the shell back and forth. “Unlimited wishes, remember?”

  “Put that thing away!” Dakota pleaded. “What if someone sees it? What if—”

  Bump! Dakota was so busy bellyaching that he bounced right into the back end of an enormous bull pushing a heavy cart.

  “Whoooa!” the bull mooed as he turned around. “Lo’hai there, little brother!”

  Dakota had run into Leatherneck—a big, round globe of a bull with massive sloping shoulders and a belly that stuck out like a beach ball. Dark gray fur covered him everywhere but his nose, which was jet-black and had a heavy gold ring dangling from it. A shiny gold chain was draped around his thick neck, and the letter L was branded like a tattoo on each of his arms.

  Anyone who didn’t know Leatherneck might have been nervous bumping into such a character. But even though he looked tough, Leatherneck was a softie on the inside. His booming voice was friendly and jolly, and he was known to let calves crawl onto his hulking shoulders or hang from his curved horns. Wearing his bright red shirt with giant white flowers, Leatherneck reminded Dakota of a tropical Santa Claus … with cow horns.

  “Lo’hai, Leatherneck!” Chuck piped up, tucking the shell under his shirt. “What’s with the cart?”

  Leatherneck was usually working at his cowfé on the edge of the village. But today, he was pushing around an oversize cart covered by a grassy canopy. The cart bumped and wobbled as it plowed over the sandy beach, with a cold cloud of icy air puffing from the boxes on its sides. A serving bar stretched across the front, along with a big sign that read: The Sandbar.

  “It’s my new thing!” Leatherneck beamed proudly. “Frozen fruit! I got Chilly Cherries, Frosty Figs, Polar Pineapples …”

  “Frozen?” Chuck asked. “Like with ice?” Ice wasrare on a sunny tropical island. It was difficultto make, and even more difficult to keep.

  “Sure, with ice!” Leatherneck grinned. He pointed to the cart. “But it melts pretty fast. So instead of making everyone come to my place, I bring my place to you! Hey, what do you two say to some Brisk Banana Blast? Perfect thing for a hot day!”

  “Oog,” the calves both mumbled. They’d had enough bananas during last night’s feast.

  “No bananas today, huh?” Leatherneck’s ears drooped with disappointment. “Too bad your brother Dakota’s not here. He’d love these things. Say, where is that little one, anyway?”

  Dakota just slumped his shoulders and shook his head.

  The conversation with Leatherneck was cut short by a sudden shout from the crowd: “Look! There’s Wahu!”

  Everyone’s heads turned toward a little shack about a hundred feet away. It wasn’t much more than a small wooden box with a straw roof and a window facing the ocean. It stood right on the beach, atop four short stilts that lifted it only a few feet off the shore. A clothesline stretched from one corner of the shack’s roof to a small shed nearby, and an array of surfboards stuck in the sand between the two. Clomping down the three small steps leading from the door was none other than Wahu Brahman.

  Wahu was big, but not in the same way as Leatherneck. He was just as broad, but his shoulders were square, his belly was trim, and his chest was shaped like a barrel. Standing at seven feet tall, he filled the door as he stepped through. He was covered in fur just as blue as the ocean itself, and he wore a bright orange pair of Bermooda shorts.

  It might have seemed strange that a bull as large as Wahu would live in so small a shack, but it fit his personality. Despite how admired he was, Wahu remained quite humble and preferred to live a simple life. Strolling from his beach box, he picked out a longboard from the collection outside. Wahu made all his own surfboards. Boardmaking was a Brahman family tradition that they had perfected through generations. Not only did every calf wish they could surf like Wahu Brahman, every calf wished they could have a Brahman board.

  “All right, hooves and heifers,” Angus Atkins blared into his microphone. “It’s time for the fifty-seventh annual Cowabunga Classic! It’s gonna be heavy! It’s gonna be hairy! It’s gonna be…legen-dairy!”

  The surfers were all finished waxing their boards, and soon the contest was underway. There were nearly two dozen competitors, but the waves were cranking hard and many of them washed up pretty fast. The first to go was Barney Lineback. He was a clumsy bull who tumbled off his board, getting sucked up and pitched over by his very first wave.

  “Ohhh! Barney goes over the falls and eats the surf!” Angus called out in his raspy voice. “Better luck next time, dude!”

  Then came the Barzona twins, Dane and Devon. They tried to score points by matching each other’s tricks, but they crashed into each other and wiped out at the exact same time.

  “Yikes! Double dinged!” Angus bellowed. “Hang loose, guys.”

  An older gray bull named Choka Hanu hung in the contest for a long while until he “pearled” his board by accidentally pushing the nose underwater, ending his ride. Also eliminated were five of his students from the Choka Surf Acowdemy. One by one, surfcows wiped out and ate foam until there were only three competitors left.

  The first finalist was Ivory Gelbray, a sturdy white heifer riding the brightest yellow board anyone had ever seen. Dakota couldn’t help thinking it looked like one of the magical bananas. The second finalist was Chopper Bullock, an intense young bull with fiery orange fur and an aggressive personality to match. He had already locked horns with a few other surfers that day. The third finalist was, of course, the strong and silent Wahu Brahman. The three of them floated on their boards, waiting for the wave that would roll them into victory.

  Ivory watched the water rise. It wasn’t the strongest-looking wave, but she didn’t want to wait for a better one. She decided to tak
e it.

  “I’ve got this one, guys,” she called out cheerily as she paddled into the wave earnestly. She popped up onto her board and started out with great form, turning up and down the face of the wave. But the wave, which hadn’t looked very big to start, suddenly surged in size when passing over a shoal.

  “Uh-oh,” Angus announced. “Ivory’s wave jacks up! This is a dangerous spot, folks. Let’s see how she handles it!”

  The rough wave began to curl fiercely, sending its heavy lip crashing toward Ivory’s head. In a flash, she did the only smart thing she could do. She jumped off her board into the water to keep from getting crushed.

  “No whey!” Angus shouted. “Ivory Gelbray bails to keep from getting axed! What a tough break for such a great surfer.”

  The wave washed over Ivory’s head. She avoided getting pummeled, but her chances of winning were over. She paddled sadly to the shore, disappointed at her loss. There weren’t a lot of heifer surfcows, so Ivory felt like she had something to prove.

  “Aww,” Chuck mooed. “That really is a shame.”

  “Good on you, Ivory,” Angus consoled her as she trudged onto the beach. “Live to surf another day.”

  Wahu and Chopper remained in the water as it rose again. Wahu was a natural at knowing which swells were going to make the best waves, and he could tell this was going to be a big one. Maybe even a huge one. He plunged his arms in the water and started paddling. Chopper, who was determined to win, noticed Wahu going for it. He didn’t feel like letting Wahu have what might be the best wave of the day. As Wahu paddled to catch his wave, Chopper paddled right up behind him.

  “This one’s mine!” Chopper sneered, cutting between Wahu and the wave as it began to crest.

  “Hey!” Dakota shouted. “He’s snaking Wahu! He can’t do that!” Dakota had been on Bermooda long enough to learn a bit about surfing. He knew that “snaking” was when one surfer sneaked behind another surfer to steal their wave. It wasn’t against the rules. But it was a rotten thing to do.

  Chopper showed off right away. He carved and shredded the crest of the wave, sending foam spray everywhere. It did look awfully impressive.

  “That’s Chopper Bullock with some wicked slashing!” announced Angus. “Strong start from the young challenger!”

  Wahu didn’t seem bothered. He just kept his eyes forward as he dropped down the face of the wave. He pumped for speed, reaching down and grabbing the sides of his board as he glided along. Then he stepped to the front of his board, hanging the four points of his hooves over the nose and arching his back.

  “Wahu Brahman hangs four and pulls off a sweet soul arch!” Angus called from the beach. “Nice move by the champ!”

  The wave rose higher and higher. Wahu and Chopper kept charging down the ever-growing face of the wave.

  “Sixty feet! Seventy feet! Eighty feet!” Angus shouted as the wave rose higher. “This … is … epic!”

  “Wow!” Dakota’s eyes opened wide. “How tall is that wave gonna go?”

  At ninety feet, the top of the wave finally tumbled down, creating a perfect tube for the surfcows to barrel through. Wahu stuck out his hoof and drew a line in the face of the wave as both surfers vanished inside its green tunnel.

  Chopper took that moment to make his move. He taunted Wahu by riding up onto the back of his board.

  “Come on, Brahman—moooove it!” he teased. “This ain’t no party wave, champ!”

  Chopper’s surfboard—which was shaped like one of the crocodile’s teeth that hung on his necklace—had a little set of bullhorns attached to the nose that he kept trying to hook the tail of Wahu’s board with. But Chopper started having just a little too much fun. As they came out of the tube in a spray of foam, the whole crowd on the beach could see him trying to throw Wahu off.

  “Hey!” Chuck bellowed. “He can’t do that!”

  Wahu made trick cuts back and forth with his board, trying to shake Chopper off. Finally, Wahu ran up the side of the wave and launched himself into the air. His board spun around in a complete circle as he switched his stance, putting his right hoof forward instead of his left. As he came down, he landed on the board facing the opposite direction.

  “Amoozing!” Angus cheered. “Wahu Brahman switches midair to Goofy Hoof with an awesome three-sixty alley-oop!”

  “Moo-hoooooooo!” Chuck and Dakota cheered from the beach along with the rest of the crowd.

  Meanwhile, Chopper had been so busy with his bully-boarding that he got completely shacked by the monstrous wave. The crashing surf drove him underwater, snapping the leash that attached his surfboard to his leg.

  Wahu, now facing the beach, saw Chopper go under. He jumped off his board, pulled off his own leash, and dove underwater. A few seconds later, two surfers appeared on the surface—a blue one helping along an orange one.

  Their ride was officially over. Wahu dragged Chopper to the shore, both of their boards lost in the sea. Chopper had done a lot of showing off, but Wahu had gone the distance and had a better run. And as Wahu pulled the coughing, sputtering Chopper out of the froth, it was pretty clear who the winner was.

  “Easy, brah,” Wahu said in his deep voice as he helped Chopper ashore. “Just take it easy.”

  “Back off, cheater!” Chopper roared, shaking off Wahu’s helpful hooves. He stomped up to Angus and the contest judges. “Did you see that? He dropped in on me! He cut right in front of me and totally spoiled my ride!”

  “Bull!” Dakota shouted from the crowd. “Everyone saw you snake Wahu! You tried to steal his wave!”

  “You were pretty aggressive,” one of the judges said.

  “Really, Chopper,” Angus agreed. “Quit milking it, dude.”

  The crowd murmured in agreement. Chopper started to complain again, but it was no use. The whole accident had been his fault, and everyone knew it. The contest was over, and Chopper Bullock sulked off in defeat. Angus held up Wahu’s arm with one hoof and handed him the Cowabunga Trophy with the other.

  “The winner—and still champion—of the annual Cowabunga Classic … Wahuuuuuu Brahmaaaaannn!” he announced. “Let’s have a round of cowpplause for the Big Cowhuna!”

  The beach erupted into a chorus of happy moos. Dakota still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of mooing instead of clapping, but he joined in as usual. After all, cow hooves weren’t the best for clapping.

  “How about it, Wahu?” Angus asked the dripping-wet champ. “That was one gnarly battle of cattle. Why’d you cut your ride short for the dude who snaked you?”

  “You always help out another surfer in danger, brah,” Wahu’s voice boomed into the microphone. “No matter what, no matter who. I’d do the same for any of you. You should do the same for one another.”

  The excited moos continued.

  “Moohalo.” Wahu thanked his fans with a polite wave before leaving the crowd and quietly heading toward his shack, holding his new trophy.

  “Wow, he sure didn’t stick around long,” Dakota said.

  “He never does, little bro,” Angus said. “That dude never hangs around for the cowpplause. He just loves the thrill of the ride. That’s what makes him a champ.”

  Chuck, who had been unusually quiet, watched as Wahu disappeared into his shack. He spied the small shed that stood across from the shack. I’ll bet he keeps his best boards in there, Chuck thought. He turned his attention to the collection of surfboards plunked in the sand outside, all of which sported the Brahman logo. They weren’t fancy or flashy. But they were smooth, polished, and perfect.

  “Uncle Bo is wrong,” Chuck mumbled. “I bet I could be as good a surfer as Wahu, if only I had a Brahman board.”

  “If only you had a board at all,” Dakota pointed out, remembering the broken surfboard in Chuck’s closet.

  Chuck’s tail began twitching and swishing. “Ooh! Ooh!” he mooed. “I have an idea!”
Dodging into some tall beach grass nearby, he pulled the shell out and knocked a hoof on it three times. Clang, clang, clang!

  “Helloooooo, Zephyrrrrr,” he called.

  The cloudy genie slowly slithered out of his shell. “Good day, sir.” He yawned as though he had just woken from a nap. “I trust your wishes are—”

  “Yeah, yeah—good day,” Chuck interrupted. “Zephyr, I know what I want to wish for!”

  “I’m overjoyed, sir,” Zephyr said flatly. “Your wish is always my command.”

  Dakota thought Zephyr sounded a lot more annoyed than overjoyed. Perhaps he didn’t like being interrupted.

  Chuck pointed toward Wahu’s shack. “Zephyr, I wish to have a Brahman board,” he said. “No, wait—lots of Brahman boards! And … I wish to be a champion surfer! Just like Wahu Brahman!”

  Dakota thought Chuck was overdoing things a bit, but it was too late to protest.

  “As you wish,” came Zephyr’s usual reply.

  The familiar whipping of wind began as Zephyr worked his magic. Grains from the beach stung their eyes and gritted in their teeth as a tiny sandstorm circled them.

  Once everything settled, Chuck and Dakota wiped the sand from their eyes and looked around. They were not standing on the beach anymore, but on a bamboo mat in a small but cozy bedroom. The walls and floor were made of weathered old wood, and a thatched roof of thickly woven beach grass was over their heads. A canvas hammock was stretched across the middle of the room. In one corner was a stool with a quilted blanket folded on it. In the opposite corner was a box full of trophies covered in dust, except for a new one that sat on a small table to their right. Against the wall in front of them was a small dresser with a grimy mirror above it. The soft sound of the ocean rolled in through the window. Chuck wasn’t sure where they were, but he knew one thing for certain: he was soaked to the bone.