Aloha's End by Michael F. Zangari, Chapter 16: That old black magic called propaganda

Aloha’s End by Michael F. Zangari
© 2007 with all rights reserved

Chapter Seventeen: That old black magic called propaganda.

“Listen, if you’re in danger then I don’t want to have dinner with you. I’m on vacation” says TrueWest. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Nobody wants trouble Mr. West. But it seems to find you anyway” says duck.
TrueWest shrugs. Yes, it’s true. That’s the news.
He looks around carefully, casing the place for evil doers, peg legs and eye patches. The atmosphere is more balloon head, Hawaiian shirt and lava lava.
He brings tape recorder to his mouth, and speaks to the microphone grid on his digital. “There must be seven ways to wrap a sarong around a women’s body. The drape emphasizes the hips or the breasts or the waist. It brings out the curves in the feminine form and highlights the trade winds that ripple the cloth like water…”
He looks around for suspicious characters.
The dudes usually sit at the bar and harass the waitress about her tattoos. They usually don’t tip, except for the Peter Lorrie type of nogoodnic.
He tips.
Sometime he falls.
He is morose and alone. Not unlike himself.
He can’t help but be evil.
He has been stuck in the ass with the devil’s pitchfork. They always have a bad day, even when it’s good. Something’s always missing. They have stolen it. That’s not news. That’s life.
‘Pitch fork editorial” says TrueWest into the microphone grid.
Several people are looking back at him.
He smoothes back his hair and sucks at his teeth to get the pineapple rind out from between the cracks. He lowers the tape recorder. He nods at the Ducks. They know about getting it in the ass with the fork.
Patita is smiling at him, almost laughing. “It’s not that complicated” she says. “You have to understand the situation.”
Her eyes sparkle alive.
“They probably won’t hit us in public, unless they want to make a point” says the Duck. “We’re safe here.”
“I’m not comforted” says TrueWest.
“I’m not crazy, paranoid or delusional Mr. West’ says Duck, adjusting his beak. “Several people have already been killed.”
“Great” says TrueWest.
“You maintain that your medical records aren’t accurate” says TrueWest, “That they have been twisted to make you look bad.” He looks at Duck. “That someone falsified your medical records and released them. That’s down right nasty.”
“It hasn’t done much for my social life” says Duck. “They did the same thing to Monica Lewinski. In fact the medical records aren’t even mine.”
True West considers this. What is the impact of opening up someone’s medical history?
“They are yours.”
TrueWest lets that one sink in then blanches.
“Don’t mess with me Duck” he says. “I’m nervous enough.”
Patita laughs.
“Just kidding” says Duck.
“Go on.”
“Look, its island style. You can be killed with rumors. They call it “stink talk” around here.
“Stinky talk” says Patita.
Stink Talk thinks TrueWest.
His mom talked stink about stink talk. How bad it was.
She gave him stink eye too, a real “you’re in trouble plenty” kind of stare when he did something wrong. People give stink when they are evil, angry and jealous.
People stink in general.
“Once the coconut wireless starts to throb like turbine it’s a hard thing to stop. The stone drums begin to sound. The strings on beer can telephones begin to unravel and hum. The message goes out over phone lines and comes through open louvers. On the coast, it doesn’t take long for rumors to become facts in the mind. It becomes a telepathic ripple that goes tsunami.”
‘Telepathic?”
“Islands are an interesting place to live. They are surrounded by water. The water produces a lot of negative ions.”
“Yes?” says TrueWest.
“Negative ions increase the audibility of thoughts.” He says.
TrueWest makes a note and squinches up his eyes up in thought.
“I heard that Mr. West” says Patita.
TrueWest looks back and shakes his head.
“Look at the 80 year plus Berkley study on negative ions” says Duck. “You’ll never think again.”
“I didn’t think I thought in the first place” says TrueWest. I’m a down to earth sort of guy.”
Duck shakes his head sadly. The beak drifts left than right than left again.
“That’s how lives and careers are destroyed, by cocktail innuendo, pillow talk and beach and back door gossip. It doesn’t take much. And whit it’s done as an organized, intelligent tactic, it can be lethal thing.”
TrueWest has seen it.
“On the islands it is against the law and punishable by death. It’s a form or sorcery called wai’wai’ko’ko’ola. It’s still on the books.”
“Sorcery?” says TrueWest.
“Yes, says Duck, that old black magic called propaganda.”





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