The Stench of Honolulu: A Tropical Adventure

by Jack Handey

  A Strange Noise

  THE NEXT morning Doctor Ponzari saw us off at the dock. There was an odd creaking and splitting noise coming from somewhere. He noticed it, too. I guess the house was settling.

  Ponzari tried to get us to stay longer. He said they were going to take the wild animals into the jungle the next day and release them. Oh, yeah, that would be interesting. He also offered to give us jobs if we wanted. Why is it that only evil people can offer you a job?

  As we turned upriver, he gave us what I thought was a fakey, insincere wave. I waved back. Why am I so nice? I guess because of the way I was brought up; if someone does something to you, you do it back.

  I missed my hula girl, I have to admit. But I felt that by graduating from hula girl to shiny medallion, I had grown as a man. The medallion reflected a bright beam of sunlight, which I aimed into Don’s eyes. “What’s that?” he said, blocking the light with his hand.

  “Doctor Ponzari gave it to me,” I replied.

  It must have been a good lie, because Don seemed to believe it. “He’s a generous man,” he said. Don, maybe you and Doctor Ponzari should go get married and live forever on Ponzari Island.

  We had only gone a few miles when we heard the strangest racket. It started as a long, loud, cracking noise, similar to the one we’d heard earlier, then turned into a tremendous rolling crash, going on and on, almost like a whole house falling down. Mixed in there were shrieks, what sounded like bee buzzing and vicious animal roars, more shrieks, a cannon firing, and a squishy hammer sound. Finally, in a wave, came the choking stink of feces.

  At first we thought maybe the commotion came from Doctor Ponzari’s, and we started to turn around. But then I noticed the flock of parakeets nearby. They were flapping and pooping and screeching away, making all sorts of crazy noises. One even sounded like coconuts rolling off wooden shelves and bouncing off someone’s head. Nature is amazing.

  Don wasn’t entirely convinced it was the parakeets, but we continued upriver anyway.

  The Point of No Return

  WE SAILED on and on, into the unknown. How strange that we have explored the moon and the other planets and yet we know so little about Hawaii.

  “Have you noticed someone is following us?” Don said. I started to say, “Have you noticed your brain is following us?” but I realized he was serious.

  I tried to take a look through the binoculars, but Don told me to wait until we got the strap off from around his neck, which took us a few minutes. By then the boat had dropped below the bend.

  I had a bad feeling about this. Following does not usually end well. One time I started following this actress. It’s not like I’m crazy; I was just obsessed with her. I asked Don the same question I asked the judge: “Just because something is behind something, is it actually ‘following’?” Don had the same answer as the judge. “Yes, it’s following.”

  We came to a sign floating on a buoy. The words on the sign would give a chill to any sane man: Entering National Park.

  A ranger came out from a rustic, unpainted hut at the end of a ramshackle pier. Admission to the park was five paleekas. “Five paleekas?!” I said, as Don paid it. The ranger gave us brochures. Hawaiians love brochures. We had to hang a pass on the boat.

  Suddenly the ranger’s face began twitching. His features twisted and contorted into a horrible, snarling monster. His eyes flared. It was the scariest thing I’d ever seen. His voice became deep and echoey. He pointed at us as he issued this warning: As long as we stayed in the park, the pass was good. But if we left the park, and came back in, we would have to pay another admission fee.

  He relaxed his face back to his regular look. I wish I could do that scary face. It really gets your point across.

  I handed the ranger his bifocals, which had fallen off. He said thanks. We motored upriver.

  The brochures were the usual stuff about lost civilizations, man-eating plants, and towering waterfalls. As I flipped through them, one caught my eye. It was about a weird half-man, half-turtle creature. Turtle men. They were said to be the souls of ancient warriors.

  The brochure said not to feed them.

  The Ruins

  THE JUNGLE grew darker and more mysterious. Bugs seemed buggier, and the trees almost seemed alive. The sun was like a blazing ball of fire in the sky. Strange little birds hovered over flowers, stabbing them with their long, pointed beaks. Sinister rock formations appeared on shore and even reached up out of the water. I guess that’s where Hawaii got its famous nickname, “Land of a Thousand Nightmares.”

  Dark clouds gathered overhead. Then, without warning, it began to rain. And it kept raining, on and on. Who would have thought it would rain so much in the jungle?

  It must have rained for nearly twenty minutes. Not hard the whole time, but still, raining. Don said to get used to it, because it was going to rain a lot more than that.

  Oh, great, now Don’s a weatherman.

  When the mist cleared, something amazing began rising up from the jungle. Then I realized, it wasn’t rising up; we were getting closer. It was the fabulous ruins of an ancient civilization.

  As a joke, I pretended to be asleep. Don kept trying to wake me up, but I would not wake up. Good joke, huh? Then I pretended to wake up, see the ruins, and go right back to sleep.

  I have to admit, the ruins were impressive. But like so many civilizations, they forgot the one rule that might have saved them: don’t let vines grow all over you.

  We stopped and looked around. There was a huge stone obelisk. I fell down and worshipped it. Then I felt bad that I had betrayed my Pelican faith. I asked Don if he would help me desecrate the obelisk, but he ignored me.

  We moved on to a big outdoor stadium, where vicious ball games were played, and where spectators ate roasted dogs.

  Nearby was a ceremonial hall. Men would gather there to chant and drink fermented beverages, in hopes of transporting themselves to another realm.

  Towering above everything was the Great Temple. That was where the sacrifices were held. Like most advanced cultures, they had made the huge leap to killing people. Probably they started out squashing bugs, and they noticed that as a result, things got a little better. Then they sacrificed bigger animals, and things really improved. The breakthrough came when some genius pointed to another guy and said, “Let’s kill him.”

  An Ancient Clue

  DON WAS motioning to me again. Just to annoy him I kept pointing to myself and mouthing, Me?

  He had found an entrance to the Great Temple. Guarding the doorway was a statue of a man with a big cactus thorn through his penis. I think it meant “No Refunds.”

  We stepped inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I beheld a wondrous sight. Fantastic painted murals covered the walls. I was floored. They depicted every kind of sex act you could imagine, and some you could never think of in a million years. They were the dirtiest pictures I had ever seen. Truly, these people were way advanced.

  But Don was interested in something else. He called me over to a series of carvings that told a story. They showed a man swimming a river, climbing a mountain, and arriving at what looked like the Golden Monkey. Then going back and telling the others not to go. What did it mean?

  Ride the Wild Wind

  THAT NIGHT, around the campfire, Don asked me what I was going to do with my share of the treasure.

  “You’ll think it’s silly,” I said.

  He promised he wouldn’t, so I told him. “I’ve always wanted a big top hat with a little cannon that would come out, fire, then go back in the hat.”

  He looked at me for a moment, and nodded.

  I asked him what he was going to do with his share. He said he was thinking about buying a starter home and seeing if his ex-wife would maybe give it another try. It was hard to keep from laughing. Yeah, good plan.

  As the campfire dwindled, and Don dwindled off to sleep, I got an idea. At first I was worried it wasn’t a good idea, but I’d had two scotches, and every idea I’ve
ever had after two scotches has been a good one.

  It’s not easy climbing up ancient, vine-covered steps, at night, with a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. A big block of stone broke loose and tumbled down the steps toward me. I jumped out of the way just in time. I checked my scotch. Whew! Finally, I made it to the slippery, narrow platform at the top.

  I spun around and around, holding my arms up in wonder to the immense, starry sky. The wind rushed through my hair. For a moment I thought I might achieve man’s age-old dream of hair-powered flight.

  These ruins were surely the most amazing place on Earth.

  Mementos

  BY MORNING, I’d had enough of the ruins. If you’re like me, a little ancient ruin goes a long way. It makes you want to go back in a time machine and tell them, “Quit building these things!” All I wanted was a souvenir and to get going.

  The trouble with ancient things is they don’t break off cleanly, even with a sledgehammer. Most of the time they shatter. And if you do manage to get one off whole, the color fades away when you take it out into the sunlight. I finally gave up.

  Don wanted to get some photos. I decided to make the photos funny. In the one where I’m sitting by a big statue of a mongoose, I act like the mongoose is biting my arm. In the one with the lizard statue, I put a lit cigarette between its lips. “Look, the lizard’s smoking!” I seem to be saying. It didn’t make any sense!

  There was a giant stone statue of a warrior, striding forward. I put a banana peel under his front foot. Just as I was pointing at the banana peel and laughing, and Don was about to take the picture, we heard a truck coming toward us through the jungle.

  It turned out to be a jeep, not a truck. Jeep, truck, does it really make that much difference? Don and I hid behind the mongoose.

  At first I didn’t recognize him. He had a bandage covering the top of his head, and what looked like multiple gorilla bites across his face. And bee stings all over his hands and neck.

  It was Doctor Ponzari.

  His fancy linen suit had splinters of wood sticking out all over. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t use dry cleaning.

  He got out of the jeep with a groan. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he called out. He held up my hula girl. “I believe this is yours, Mister Slurps. It has your initials on the bottom: W.W.S., for Wrong Way Slurps. This little trinket destroyed the entire Ponzari Institute. Fortunately, no one was killed.”

  “What’s he talking about?” whispered Don.

  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to figure out how to cup my hand around my mouth but finally giving up. “He’s insane.”

  “Please come out, Mister Slurps. And if it’s not too much trouble, I must ask you to talk to this gentleman here.” Ponzari indicated a short man in a stripy suit with a briefcase. “He’s with the insurance company.”

  “Maybe we should talk to them,” said Don.

  “I am prepared to wait here indefinitely,” said Ponzari. He stuck his arm straight out and leaned nonchalantly against the gigantic stone warrior. He shouldn’t have done that. The pressure was just enough to make the statue slip on the banana peel and crash down on top of them.

  “AAAAGGGHHHEE!” shrieked Doctor Ponzari. The whole thing happened as if in slow motion. Ponzari tried to dive away but was doomed to be flattened. The insurance man never saw it coming. He was standing straight up as the colossus struck him. It sheared off one side of his skull, and his remaining eyeball shot out of its socket, followed by a torrent of blood and gray gunk. Both his shinbones broke in half and stuck out through his pants. His spine snapped loose and curled over his shoulder like a snake. Finally, his rib cage collapsed like an accordion, with some sort of liquid squirting out between the ribs.

  The statue landed with a tremendous thud. Dust and leaves whooshed up. Birds and monkeys screamed.

  Don and I just looked at each other. And ran, toward the boat.

  “Wait!” said Don. “Let’s try to lift it!”

  I swear, we lifted and lifted on that statue, but it wouldn’t budge. Except for the cheeping of some angry gophers, all was quiet.

  Carrying On

  WHEN SOMETHING bad happens, there’s a tendency to think that somehow you did something to cause it. That has happened to me many times. But it’s just your brain. Ignore it. Look on the bright side: the evil reign of Doctor Ponzari was over. No longer would he inflict his “cures” and “discoveries” on people. Also, the evil reign of the insurance man was over.

  We decided to keep going. Even though Doctor Ponzari was in Hell now, being tortured with hot branding irons, I felt that he would have wanted us to continue.

  Don radioed Honolulu and told them what had happened, so the relatives could come and dig out the badly decomposed bodies.

  As I sat there waiting on the fallen statue, a miracle occurred: I spotted my little hula girl! She was just lying there. When I picked her up and dusted her off, she did her little dance for me. I almost cried.

  We headed upriver, not forgetting Doctor Ponzari, but not remembering him, either. “We have to stay focused on the Golden Monkey,” I said before taking a nap.

  I was awakened by the sounds of Don setting up “camp,” whatever that is. I went off to explore. By the way, underpants make a perfectly good hat. Here’s a tip: put the leg hole over your head, not the waist hole.

  There is life everywhere in the jungle, if you take the time to look. Over there, on that open patch, there are ants. On that tree trunk, climbing up and down, is a column of ants. And floating on the pond are ants.

  There are orchids all over the place. You think you’d never get tired of seeing orchids, but there are so many it kind of makes you mad.

  I came upon a beautiful wild parrot. I thought if I could catch him, I could train him to talk. I’d teach him to say, “Don is a big stupid jerk.” I chased that parrot for the longest time. He would squawk and I would squawk back. Every time I squawked back he would drop a piece of breadfruit to me, as a reward. But I had to do the exact same squawk that he did. He was very patient, repeating the squawk over and over until I got it right.

  If you’ve never tasted breadfruit, it tastes kind of like a cracker. Man, I want that breadfruit.

  Leilani

  I WENT deeper into the jungle. That’s when I first saw her. Leilani. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I’m not just saying that because she was nude.

  She was showering beneath a crystal-clear waterfall. Sparkles of water glistened on her breasts, and threw prisms of light onto the lenses of my binoculars.

  She glanced over and saw me. She grabbed her basket and bounded off into the woods. She was like a deer, only a two-legged deer with a really nice ass. “Come back!” I yelled. “I only want to have sex with you!”

  I went back to the boat and got a fishing net. I don’t like to catch a girl in a net just to meet her, but if I have to I will.

  What is the one thing every woman loves? Pretty rocks, right? They like to pick them up and show them to you. I gathered some rocks from the stream bed that I thought would appeal to the woman brain. Then I laid them at the foot of a tree, with the net resting in the branches overhead.

  I hid behind the tree and waited. I heard a squeal and set the net. But guess what I caught: a wild pig! I had to laugh. One minute beautiful girl, the next minute angry insane pig. What are the odds of that ever happening?

  I gathered up the net and tried to fold it, but somehow it got wrapped all around me. I rolled down the hill. Every time I got up I toppled over and rolled farther down the hill. I cried out for help, in a fierce, manly way.

  There was a knife at my throat. It was the girl. I recognized her face, but not the rest of her, because she was wearing clothes: the traditional grass skirt and coconut bra.

  “Why you want catch Leilani?” she hissed.

  I had to think fast. I made up a lie. “I was going to sell you to a carnival.”

  She spat in my fac
e. I was in love.

  Don came running up. Leilani turned to face him. “Put the knife away,” said Don. They stared at each other for a moment. Then, for some reason, she did put the knife away. And ran off into the jungle. Don ran after her. “No one want hurt you,” he yelled like a baby.

  So, Don was already moving in on my girl. I should have known. For one thing, he likes native girls. His favorite movie is Native Girl, starring Marlene Dietrich.

  Also, I think he wants to get back at me for dating his ex-wife, Debby. It’s true, Don and Debby were going through couples therapy when I started dating her, but they were separated—that’s the point I’m trying to make. Also, as I have said many times, she broke up with me, too, so who’s the real victim here?

  It took Don about an hour to get me out of the net. I was wrapped up tight, like a juicy ham.

  That night, as I tried to massage the net marks out of my arms, legs, and face, I was thinking about one thing: Leilani. I was so much in love that even the pounding of the native drums didn’t bother me. By about three in the morning the drums were bothering me, but I’d still say I was about 90 percent in love.

  I was also thinking about my girlfriend back in America, and wondering if she would agree to dress up like Leilani.

  Leilani Joins Up

  WHILE DON was finishing breakfast, I was busy naming ants. I hope if I ever get reincarnated I can make a deal where I come back as a million ants. That way, even if I get stepped on or attacked by an anteater, I don’t care, because there’s lots more of me where that came from.

  I was running out of ant names—the obvious ones, anyway—when, from out of the morning mist, Leilani appeared. At first she just stood there, at the edge of the jungle, holding her basket. Was she real, or was she a vision? All of a sudden naming ants didn’t seem so important.