Aloha's End (c) 2006 By Michael F. Zangari Chapter Thirteen: A campfire Tale With Attribution

Aloha’s End by Michael F. Zangari

Chapter 13: A Camp fire tale with attribution

The duck navigates the coffee cup carefully under the rubber beak to his mouth. He kisses the coffee and sucks. The coffee is as hot as cooling lava. It steams his sunglasses.
TrueWest looks at him.
Everyone is looking at him.
“Why does everyone in this café wear sunglasses? He asks. “It’s as dark as pitch tar in here.”
He takes off his sunglasses and tosses them on the table.
The duck smiles under his rubber nose.
“It cuts the glare from the torches” he says.
TrueWest shakes his head. He takes out a pad and a small tape recorder. “Do you mind?” he asks.
Duck picks up the recorder and turns it on. He holds it close to his mouth. His voice deepens and clarifies.
“It’s the little radio station at the back of your mind” he says.
TrueWest startles.
It the back of his mind, he hears the duck, like he’s talking over a tin can telephone. It buzzes a little.
“It’s true” he says softly.
“A lot of things are” says the duck.
“I believe it” says TrueWest.
He thinks about it. “Sort of.”
The duck actually laughs at that one. “I’m encouraged” he says.
“I know there’s a story here” says TrueWest. “The nose.”
Duck touches the nose. The rubber has been softened by the heat.
“It’s a dead give away.” Says TrueWest
Duck shakes his head. “There’s a story alright” he says. “But you’re going to go after it. You are going to need attribution for this one, but people have gone clam mouth when it comes to “Aloha’s End.”
Aloha’s End. Thinks TrueWest.
“But as I understand it, aloha has no end. It’s love.” Says True West.
“It’s also hello and goodbye. It’s love alright. Deep as the ravines in the middle of the ocean. And twice as spooky.” The duck thinks about aloha. “But it has an end, Mr. West. Like everything.”
Attribution thinks TrueWest. The duck did some journalism in his radio career. Obviously.
The duck sips at his coffee, wetting his beak.
He sponges it off with the napkin.
“My life is being destroyed before my eyes. I can’t get work. My home has been broken into. My life has been threatened.”
“Do you really think that wearing a rubber duck bill will protect your identity?”
“No” says the Duck thoughtfully. “Nobody’s safe.”
TrueWest nods just like the disaster guy he is. “It’s true” he says.
“I’m not hiding” if that’s what you mean. “In fact I’m doing the opposite. I’m in your face. “He leans forward so the duck bill is inches from TrueWest’s nose.” I’m not going to let people forget me. On this island, if you become invisible you become dead.”
“I heard your comments on the radio” says TrueWest. He chokes a little on some emotional gristle in the back of his throat.
Duck shakes his head. “I’m not on the radio” he said. “I’m being deleted”
“Deleted?”
“The people who believe I am their enemy are erasing my life. All my media work is being destroyed. My newspaper articles are missing from the archives and libraries. My tapes and videos are gone. I don’t have any photographs left in my home.”
“You’re comments are very powerful on air” says TrueWest.
He’s on the radio alright. The coconut wireless.
“I’ve heard that there are still some tapes going around. Mostly on the main land” says the duck. “Mostly under someone else’s name. I guess the electronic surveillance has a bright side. It makes for interesting audition tapes.”
“You’re singing the standard whistle blower’s song about how people get lazy, greedy and mean” says TrueWest. “I’ve made a career out of telling those kinds of tales.”
“I know” says the Duck. “I saw your show. What is it called? Forty minutes and some Commercials.”
He smiles.
“You should light your face from underneath, like you’re holding a flashlight.”
“Campfire stories” says TrueWest.
“With attribution” says Duck.