An excerpt from the novel “The Stench of Honolulu,” which comes out tomorrow.

Don’s Offer

When my friend Don suggested we go on a trip to the South Seas together, and offered to pay for the whole thing, I thought, Fine, but what’s in it for me?

After he explained that I’d be getting a free vacation, I still hesitated. It was true that, jobwise, I had some time. I had just been fired again. And after working there for nearly two months, I was ready for a vacation.

But finally I said no. For one thing, I don’t really like the tropics. The last time I went to the Caribbean I wound up in a bongo factory, forced to make bongos.

Also, I was making good progress on my novel, Muscular Angry Clown. It’s about a well-built circus clown with a hot temper. I was at the part where he breaks the neck of the evil lion tamer.

Also, I had been dating this woman, and we were really being in love. I can’t remember her name right now, but she’s great.

I knew Don would ask me again. He doesn’t have a lot of good friends. That’s because he doesn’t hang around in bars a lot, like I do. That’s where you make your really good friends, in bars. Don spends most of his time at work. He’s a counselor for deranged children.

Sure enough, Don called again. He said the reason for the trip was that his divorce had become final, and he wanted to go someplace far away. And he wanted me to go because he had a bunch of different emotions, and he wanted someone to share them with.

That was when I pretended something was wrong with the phone and hung up. When Don called back I used my Chinese voice and said, “He no here!”

Why, then, you’re wondering, did I call Don back and agree to go on the trip with him? Someone lit a fire under me. And that someone was Conk and Conky Pingle. They dragged me into an alley and lit a fire under me. They said that if I didn’t pay them the money I owed them, they would put a device on my head.

“What kind of device?” I said.

Not a device, they said, a vise.

South Seas, here I come!

Warnings

After I agreed to go, there were ominous warning signs: I got a letter addressed to “Occupant.” But someone had crossed it out and written “Resident.”

I saw my name in a bowl of spaghetti, misspelled.

I spotted a quarter on some steps. But when I tried to pick it up, it was stuck down with bubble gum. Then I heard the sound of pixies laughing.

A burglar broke into my apartment while I was out. He didn’t take anything, but he left an angry note.

I went to check on the new sidewalk. It was smooth again. There was no sign anywhere of my footprints, my handprints, or my face print. It was as if I had never existed.

A squirrel stared at me. I looked away, but when I looked back he was still staring.

I dreamed I was in the jungle, holding a lighted stick of dynamite. I tried to throw it, but it stuck to my hand. Then I noticed the brand name: Sticky Dynamite. I woke up in a cold sweat.

Scariest of all was the hideous old crone. She pointed her long, crooked finger at Don and me and croaked, “Do not go on this trip. There is nothing but death and destruction.” Then she said, “But if you do go, I can get you a really good deal.” And she did. All we had to do was connect through St. Louis.

The Gift

We had our plane tickets and were almost out the door when the crone said, “Wait, I want to give you two handsome men something very special.” She lowered the blinds and flipped the sign to Closed. She led us to a darkened room in the back and lit a candle. “What I am about to give you is very old but very precious.” Uh-oh.

She opened a creaky cabinet, tearing several spiderwebs apart. I felt sorry for the spiders and all the work they had done. She took out a folder and blew the dust off. After we finished coughing, she blew some more dust, and we coughed again. Then she put the folder back and took out something else.

“I am among the last of my kind. Soon there will be no more travel agents. I want someone to have this before it’s too late.” She spread out a ragged, faded map. It showed a large, mysterious island in the middle of the ocean, a land that I had never heard of. Then it hit me: This was the same place Don had mentioned. And the same place our tickets were to. It was all starting to fit together.

The crone tapped her clawlike fingernail on a spot deep in the jungle. “There is where you will find it. The greatest treasure known to man. The Golden Monkey!” She cackled a screeching cackle.

I started to ask her a question, but she let out another screeching cackle. When she finally stopped I said, “Why don’t you go find the Golden Monkey yourself?” I was smirking, because it was such a good question.

She said, “I am too old. Soon I will be—”

“Dead?”

“Retired,” she said.

I kissed her on the cheek. Don claims I made out with her, but Don’s a liar.

Credit: Flickr Commons.