Page 56 of Hawaii Can Suck It

Excuse me?

Blaze leans forward, hopeful. “How am I doing at that, by the way? It’s tough to act like I’m mad at you, bro. Oh, and she gave me a blowjob.”

I gape at him.

There are so many things wrong with what he’s saying. Where to start?

I do the only thing I can.

I put a hand on his shoulder, look him dead in the eye, and accept the fact that my best friend is a complete moron. I’m about to…I don’t know, comfort him, when Astrid’s shrill voice hits my ears.

“BLAZEY-KINS! Where are you? You need to feed me the orgasm oysters!”

Blaze bolts upright.

“Gotta go to work, bro.” He winks, salutes, and books it. “Love you!”

Astrid is a bigger bitch than I thought. Manipulating my closest pal? Turning my personal life into a content farm? Diabolical. She needs to pay for this, but I don’t have the energy to keep making more viral bait nonsense videos.Why do millions of people watch this fake crap anyways, knowing it’s all staged?It’s worse than reality TV, but… it’s also the only thing that gets views nowadays.

I’m tired of it.

The channel.

The brand.

The bullshit.

I want to fucking quit.

I wish I had a choice.

***

Therearealotof things I hate in this world. Paper straws. Astrid’s existence. Filming shameless hot garbage for views.

But seriously, nothing—I repeat, NOTHING—could have prepared me for the deep, visceral, soul-sucking hatred I feel the moment Kai struts on stage. He’s clad in nothing but a minuscule brown leather thong, his erection blatantly displayed in its snug leather sheath.

“Welcome to a tale as old as passion itself!” His voice booms across the beach. “Tonight, we witness the eternal battle between the gods of love and lust!”

One by one, muscular Hawaiian behemoths join him onstage—each looking fresh off the set of a movie with gladiators, where the director answered “more penis” to every actor’s question on theirmotivation. Tribal tattoos ripple across oiled biceps, their matching leather thongs leaving so little to the imagination that several elderly women in the front row have already fainted.

“We are the warriors!” Kai proclaims. “Sworn to protect lovers and defend every person’s sacred right to orgasm!”

The muscled men let out a warped battle cry that sounds exactly like a mating call.

And then—because this night clearly needed to get weirder—Kai attaches a rope to the front of his thong. At the end dangles what appears to be a drum mallet.

A massive drum wheels out center stage.

The fighters begin to chant. “Grun. Grun. Grun.”

Kai’s hips start to gyrate, the rope circling as he hypnotizes the audience with his pelvis. The lasso mallet spins faster and faster until—

BAM!

It strikes the drum, and the stage explodes in synchronized lightning effects.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

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