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NEXT DAY THE REST OF Piho’s relatives fired up the old bus and drove off to their rock festival, and Randy and Piho were left alone with Uncle Bubba. They waited a while, then when all was quiet they went looking for him. The old guy was in his garden, weeding. The weeds, it seemed, grew as big as the veges.
“You ask him then.” said Piho, nudging Randy forwards.
“But he’s your uncle.”
“Yeah, and it’s your idea. Go on!”
So Randy got talking with Bubba, just about gardening and compost and manure and stuff, and then he got around to asking if he could keep the seaweed he had found.
“Sure,” said Bubba, “there’s heaps of it around.”
“Great!” said Randy, then quickly added, “So, ah, like what’s it called?” because he didn’t want to sound too interested.
“I don’t know the proper name,” said Bubba, “I just call it crab-weed.”
“Why so?”
“Oh ‘cause just after it gets washed up you’ll find all these crabs clinging to it. It’s like they love it so much they just can’t let go.”
“Well it’s the crab apples.” explained Randy knowledgeably.
“Eh?”
“The crab apples.” said Randy, “these things.” He showed Bubba the little apple-like knobs on his own piece, “Crabs just love ‘em.”
“Yeah,” chuckled Bubba, “the crab apples, right.”
“So, ah, is there much of it? I mean, I suppose it washes up all around here?”
“Far as I know,” said Bubba, sitting back from his weeding and giving Randy a slightly puzzled look, “it mostly comes in right here after every little storm.” Then Bubba pointed out to a small cone-shaped island that sat just off the coast, “I reckon it mostly grows there. Funny stuff. Ten years ago there was hardly any. Now there’s more’n I know what to do with. Y’see there was a shipwreck out there, oh, fifteen years back now, a Japanese fishing boat. I reckon it got established from there. But ahhh...” Bubba shrugged, “...who knows?” And he went back to his weeding.
#
“RIGHT,” SAID PIHO, “We’ve got the supply lined up, now for the market.” They set off walking and soon managed to hitch a ride into Haulaway. There was no gardening shop. The nearest thing was the supermarket that had a bit of a garden-section.
The boys went on in and asked for the ‘gardening manager’. Out came the store manager. Piho did the talking. The manager dude listened politely, then laughed.
“Nice try, boys, but round here, if people want a bit of seaweed, they can go pick it off the beach for themselves.”
“Ah,” said Piho smartly, “Not this stuff! It’s specially imported from Japan, and grown in a secret location. Only we know how to get it!”
“Yeah!” added Randy, “And it’s dynamite, man! Veges grow like crazy!”
The manager laughed and laughed. “Sure, sure. Nice try, boys. See you later.” And he turned and went off back to his office.
“Prick!” muttered Randy, stuffing his bit of seaweed back into his backpack, “Let’s go!” They left the store.
“What now, brainbox?” asked Piho snidely as they headed further into the township, “Wanna try the hairdressers?”
“Well it was your idea to go to the supermarket!”
“Yeah well it’s all just a dumb idea anyway!” grumbled Piho. He sounded like he was about ready to give up, so Randy quickly threw in a new idea.
“We could have a roadside stall...”
“Aw geez, man!” snapped Piho, “What’d we build it out of? And knowing what this place is like we’d even need a building permit!”
Randy looked around, puzzled, “Waddya mean?”
“My family’s been coming here for years,” explained Piho, “It used to be a nice little place; now it’s full of yuppies and their big ritzy houses. Geez, it’s even got a health-food shop!” Piho pointed sneeringly across the street. There was a shop there called “THE BOUNTIFUL EARTH.”
Randy stopped, gazing thoughtfully at the name of the shop. Finally he said, “Ah, right; so what exactly does ‘Bountiful’ mean?”
Piho frowned, “Geez, ah, I think it means sort of like having big breasts.”
Randy was incredulous, “Nah!”
Piho didn’t like being disbelieved. “Is so! - I read this book once and it went on all the time about this woman’s ‘bountiful breast’.”
“A-aah.” said Randy, nodding wisely, “So; that shop's called the ‘The Big Breasted Earth’? That’s nuts, man!”
“Yeah, it’s a mad mad world, man. Good thing we’re got it sussed. C’mon.”
“C’mon where?”
“Spacies shop. Let’s do something!”
“Hang on!” Randy sounded quite urgent about something.
Piho stopped, “What?”
“See those dudes?” Randy pointed to the health food shop. Just inside, behind the counter, were two handsome tanned healthily wealthy looking people in rainbow coloured clothes and short bleached hair.
“Geez, yeah,” giggled Piho, “freaks, man. Okay, now let's go.”
“No, wait! Just yesterday, just before you came along, those two stopped me an’ Tammy on the street. They were, like, nuts about this stuff!”
“Yes? And?”
Well – maybe they’ll buy it!”
“Oh come on, dude! No-one’s gonna buy your crappy seaweed.” growled Piho as he set off once again, but Randy was not behind him. He was crossing the road. Piho went after him, catching him just inside the health food shop door. “Geez, man,” he whispered, “if you’re that serious then let me handle it! Hi!” he greeted one of the freaks, “My business partner here tells me you’re interested in Kapai Weed?”
“Kapai Weed?” whispered Randy, “but it’s...”.
“Shhh!” Piho hissed back.
The weirdo-freaks began by looking down their noses at the boys, then they recognised Randy. “Ahhh,” crooned the woman, who wore a badge that said her name was ‘Cypress’, “it’s you! Welcome to our Sacred Enterprise!”
“Eh?” said Randy.
Piho butted in, “Yeah, thanks! Gidday. I’m Piho Waitere, and this is Randalf Cathro. Y’see we’re local people who just happen to know a few things about the product in question...”
“Oh?!” said the other one (‘Cedar’), “So you know about Sea-Life Jelly?!”
“Sure.” said Piho with the barest hesitation, “It’s just the most.., growing thing!”
This seemed to strike a chord. Both the weirdoes beamed radiantly. “Wow, man,” said Cedar, “you said it!” And he turned about like someone who did dance classes and plucked a small jar off a nearby shelf, bringing it back to hover in front of Piho's face. ‘SEA-LIFE JELLY’, said the label, ‘the Life Force of the Sea’. There was a perfect hyper-coloured picture of seaweed; exactly the stuff they had in the bag!
Randy nearly said something but Piho quickly jabbed a silencing elbow into his ribs, took the jar and read on. –
‘Sea-Life Jelly is the quintessential essence of the sea herb AR-OO, (bullenima exasperantia) known for millennia by the ancient and secret AR-EOO spiritual tradition of the far east. Sea-Life Jelly is extracted by modern scientific processes based on the oldest secret recipe in the world. Sea-Life Jelly will restore your cellular structure, damaged by centuries of pollution. You will actually feel yourself growing again!
– And the price label said $39.95.
“Right,” said Piho calmly and confidently, trying to stop his eyes bulging at the price, “this is the one.” He tapped at the picture of the seaweed, “Yeah, I think we might be able to supply you with a fair bit of this stuff.”
The eyes that did pop were in the tanned and smile-stretched faces of Cedar and Cypress. It was like watching two people witnessing some sort of ‘happening’.
“Do you have some here?” asked Cedar, sounding like he was trying to stay calm, “Like, we’ll have to check the exact species.”
“Got a bag full.” said Randy carelessly.
Cedar licked his lips like he had just heard the lunch bell, “Could we, perhaps, take a small sample, just to make sure? After all, it is a very rare sea herb and, hah! I mean: this is quite a miracle to have it growing right here! I mean: a Miracle!” He sounded like he was going to burst.
Randy glanced at Piho. Piho nodded. Randy opened his backpack and pulled out the seaweed. The man groaned. The woman sighed and seemed to writhe about like she had just got a sudden twist in her undies. Randy glanced up at their faces. There were dollar signs in their eyes, he was sure of it, he could just about see the dollar signs!
“Got any scissors?” asked Piho. Cedar scuttled out the back of the shop and quickly came back with a pair of scissors and a little plastic bag. Piho, with a ceremonial flourish and a few words of Maori, snipped off about ten centimetres of the stuff and let it fall into the bag.
“Consider that a gift.” said Randy, knowing how nuts these people were for that kind of talk, “A gift from the Great ... Thingy.”
They exploded into smiles. “Bless you!” said she, “All praise to the Abundant One! I just want you to know how happy we are ...”
Randy switched off before he puked.
“Of course this isn’t easy for us,” Piho began saying, “Kapai Weed is a valuable part of our environment, almost a part of our culture, like an ancestral treasure...”
“Oh, yes, yes,” the Clones murmured, looking slightly worried about what Piho might be leading up to say. Randy was wondering too. Why didn’t Piho just name a price and be done with it?
“...But we have to be realistic too,” continued Piho, “We also live in the world of commercialism, – know what I mean?”
“Oh yes of course!” gushed Cypress, “Of course! Of course we respect your Culture, your Ancestral Treasure!”
“Mmmm,” nodded Cedar, “mmmm!”
Randy was nodding too. He was starting to get the drift.
“So,” said Piho, “Shall we let you just think about it for a while? And, ah, we’ll cruise by later to, like, check it out with you?”
“Sure, sure!” they said, “Thank you. We really feel honoured! We do!”
Then Randy remembered something he had seen on TV where these holy type dudes had all bowed to each other when they parted. He put his hands together in a kind of praying position and made a little bow. The Clones did it back, ever so sincerely. It made Randy almost feel like a phoney jerk.
They got out onto the street and walked hastily away.
“Geez!” gasped Randy, “Did you see the price on that stuff?!”
“Yeah! This stuff is gold! We're gonna flog ‘em this for all we can get, man!”
“But isn’t it, like: uncool?” asked Randy, starting to get cold feet, “Like: all that stuff about your Maori culture and all that? I mean, aren’t we maybe going a bit too far?”
“Nah. Y’know what Uncle Bubba said: it fell off the back of a Japanese fishing boat! Anyone can get it! Why not us!?” Piho was getting a touch of dollar-eye too.
“Yeah, true, true. So, ah, so...” Randy was too excited to think. He was going to be rich! RICH! “...so, like: how much do we ask for?”
“Think of a number, then double it. That’s what my dad always says.”
Randy did. He thought of five, and doubled it. “Ten?”
“Okay,” said Piho cheerfully, “so that gives us twenty bucks a kilo.”
“Geez! They’ll never pay that much!”
“That jar of stuff, that Sea-Life Jelly, that was worth twice twenty bucks and it was only quarter of a kilo, tops!”
“Geez, that’s; ah ... eighty bucks a kilo! We should go for thirty, even forty!” Randy’s head was beginning to spin with big numbers, “Right, let’s go back! Let’s go for it! No, wait wait wait! We’ve gotta push that thing about it being.., Ahhh...?”
“Scarce?”
“Yeah; that! And-and-and that stuff about ances..? ancestor-rule...?”
“Ancestral treasure,” giggled Piho, “yeah; that was good, eh?!”
“Kapai Weed! Ha ha ha, I bet they don’t even know what that means!”
“Nah. I mean they’re Yanks, aren’t they?”
“They sound like Yanks...”
They were interrupted right about then by a shout from across the street. It was Beau. Randy cringed but it was too late. She was coming over.
“Piho,” she said warmly, “good to see ya!”
Randy knew that tone – she wanted something.
“Gidday, said Piho back to her politely, “how’s it goin’?”
“Fine. Look, have you got a minute?” she asked, “It’s just a small favour...”
“What?”
“I just want to immortalise you in paint.”
“Uh uh, no way.” said Piho quickly.
“Yeah!” added Randy, completely outraged, “Anyway, what’re ya protesting?”
Beau was perplexed, “Protesting?”
“Yeah, well that’s what you do when you’re protesting isn’t it: - cover yourself in petrol or paint or something and set it on fire?”
“That’s immolating, you pillock!” she said, “No, listen, I just want Piho to pose for me, for a photograph, that’s all. Then when I win the mural commission I’ll be blowing the image up onto the changing sheds with paint.” Randy giggled, imagining Beau blowing up the changing sheds with a giant paint-bomb.
To Randy’s surprise Piho liked the idea, “Cool,” he said, “I’ll be like Elle Mcpherson up on one of those big billboards!” Then Randy had a good idea; a way of saving his friend from Beau’s stinking piece of seaweed and getting into Beau’s good books at the same time.
“Hey, Beau, look what I found!” He showed her the seaweed. “Just for a loan though, just for the photo.”
“Excellent!” said Beau, “Wonderful! Oh my marvellous little brother!” And she actually kissed him!
“Okay,” said Piho, noticing she already had her camera, “how do you want me?”
“Oh, not here! On the beach!” Beau led them directly towards the beach, through the little shopping mall. Beau got Piho set up with his shirt off and the seaweed draped across his chest and wrapped around his head. He certainly was right for the job. He had nice-looking muscles and a neat looking haircut and was a bit of a natural poser anyway.
‘In fact’, thought Randy ruefully as he contemplated his own less-than-impressive body, ‘the dude's downright handsome!’
Beau started snapping photos as fast as she could, calling out stuff like, “...now, look to the sea, YES! Now lift your chin, YES! Look like a warrior, YES! Now be sad, YES! Turn a bit more, YES! Now lift your arm, other arm ... YES!...”
Piho was just loving it.
Then it was done. Beau was thrilled and immediately hurried off to the one-hour photo place to get the pictures printed. Randy carefully folded up the seaweed and stuck it back into his backpack. “Geez you’re a show-off!” he said to Piho.
“Yeah,” giggled Piho as he put his shirt on, “s’pose I am, eh? Now, let’s go hit up those freaks for some big money. We'll start at thirty bucks a kilo. That’ll get them sweating, then we’ll haggle. Geez, even if we only get ten for it we’ll be sweet!”
“Yeah, sweet as, bro!”
#
THEY GOT TEN. THE weirdoes, Cedar and Cypress, pointed out that the little jars were a concentrated extract and the price also included packaging, the cost of importing, and retail profit margin. They offered to pay just five dollars the kilo.
“Five?” echoed Piho sadly, and he glanced towards the door as if he was about to leave, “Oh, I don’t know. Y’see, my uncle’s fighting a land-rights case at the moment and that’s why we have to start selling our Kapai Weed. Lawyer’s fees and all that. No, five is way too low. We could consider fifteen...?”
Cedar and Cypress sucked on their lower lips and looked very sympathetic.
“Well, we really do understand,” murmured Cedar, “we really do. Um, tell you what, if the tests indicate that this definitely is the right stuff, and you can guarantee to supply it in good condition, we could probably go as high as ten. If it’s good!”
Piho frowned and looked thoughtful, then with a big sigh he agreed, “Okay, ten.”
Randy pulled out his sample and said, sort of as an after-though, “Um, so, ah, I was wondering, like, how much this piece actually weighs?”
“Yes,” added Piho, “considering the slightly dried quality of our sample here, could you, like, see your way clear to buying this bit now, ahhh, say for just a little less than our usual agreed price? We.., ah, we’re a little strapped right now.”
Cedar smiled. “Well,” he said warmly, “Why not! And as a gesture of our good will, we’ll give you the full rate!”
“Excellent!”
“Yes, but from now on, it’ll have to be fresh. As fresh as possible!”
“Oh, of course, of course!” said Piho.
“So,” said Cedar, “when can you begin supplying?”
“Ah, well,” said Piho, thinking hard, “we’ll have to get the diver down from Auckland, get the boat ready, and we’ll have to check with the kaumatua for the right phase of the moon and all that. How about... tomorrow arvo?”
“Fine!” said Cedar, “Excellent! Beautiful!! That would be a miracle!!!”
“Yes,” agreed Cypress, “We are all Truly Blessed! This Exchange of Our Riches was Really Meant To Be!”
“Yeah, sure,” grunted Randy, “Whatever.” He was beginning to choke on the smell of crapolla and just wanted to get out of there, “So, like, shall we Exchange on this bit? Then, like: - we’ve gotta go, ah, - go meet a bus!”
So the piece of seaweed was carefully weighed and Cedar gave them $8.50 for it. Then they got out of there and headed up the street.
“Woooo-hoo!” shouted Randy, punching a fist into the air, “Ten bucks a kilo!”
Piho was looking pretty happy too, but he wasn’t making much noise.
“Whatsa matter?” asked Randy.
“Err, nothing. Just don’t go telling Uncle Bubba about all that crap I was spouting in there. In fact don’t go telling anyone, okay? Let’s just not cock it up like last time!”
“Oh no, no cock-ups! This time we’re gonna do this right!!”
“Ah, excuse me boys?” said a voice behind them. They turned around quickly, startled and secretive. The person who had spoken was a vaguely familiar-looking woman they had seen a little earlier browsing in the health food shop.
“What?” said Randy cautiously.
“Well,” said the lady, talking mainly to Piho, “I couldn’t help overhearing you back there in that shop, about the land rights problem your family seemed to be having. I, ah, I research that kind of thing and I wonder whether I might be able to talk to you about it, or maybe your uncle...?”
“No.” said Piho firmly, “It’s a private thing, like; like tapu! I can’t discuss it!” and he quickly walked away, hauling Randy along with him. He looked really rattled about something. Once he was out of earshot of the woman he began muttering and swearing away to himself, “ - I knew I shouldn’t have said that, I knew it!”
Randy tried to reassure him. “It’s okay, man, I mean, like, what does she know? Geez, she doesn’t even know who you are; where you live; nothing!”
Piho calmed down. “Yeah, ‘s’pose you’re right. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah, let’s go spending!” Randy looked back towards the spacies shop.
“No.” said Piho abruptly, “I don’t feel like it. I don’t want to. Let’s just get some stuff for Uncle Bubba and get on home!” He was so adamant about it that Randy didn’t try to argue. They went into the supermarket and chose a few items, paid, and came out.
Then came a shout from across the road.
“Hey! Hey guys! They’re absolutely brill!” It was Beau, beaming happily as she came out of Photo Hut. “Come and look! Come on!!”
So Randy and Piho had to stop and look at the photos (jumbo sized), then Beau insisted that they helped choose the best one. Then she ignored their advice and chose the ‘saddest’ one, which she put into her folder.
Randy had seen her folder before. It was one of those things with transparent plastic pages. She’d been filling it for days with sketches and estimates and costs and paint-chart colours. The photo, it seemed, was just a lucky extra detail.
“This is so good!” she kept saying, “So good!” Then she pointed across the road towards the County Council Office, “Come on, you’ve gotta come in with me!” she insisted, “For luck!” It was difficult to refuse, especially since she’d grabbed Piho by the sleeve and hauled him out into the traffic. They got across safely and went in.
“I’d like to submit a tender to do the changing-sheds mural.” She said to the receptionist, proudly showing her the folder.
“Just a minute,” said the receptionist, “I’ll just see if Mister Fraser’s here.”
Mr Fraser came out from a back office and looked over Beau’s submission. “This is great,” he said, “It’s the best one I’ve seen yet. And you’re in luck; - we’re going to decide this within a few days. We’re getting a bit of adverse media attention right now and want to get this started. Want to give the Bay a more positive look. So, how soon could you get it going, ah...?” he searched for her name on her folder, “...Beau?”
“Oh, right away!” she said enthusiastically, “As soon as you say!”
“Mmm, well,” he murmured, “that could be a factor.” He turned to the receptionist. “Is Barry back yet?”
“No,” she said, “he shouldn’t be long though. He said he was just out to meet with that television reporter.”
“Oh,” said Mr Fraser, like that was a bit of bad news, “Okay, I’ll show him this later.” and he went off through a door into the back rooms of the building.
“Ye-ES!!” said Beau.
“You haven’t got it yet.” cautioned Randy.
“Oh but I’ve got a feeling,” said Beau, “I’ve just got a feeling!”
“Yeah, I have too,” muttered Piho, “C’mon, Randy, let’s get back to Bubba’s, now!” He turned for the exit, and froze. Coming hastily up the pathway towards the glass doors was someone they both knew.
“It’s Barry Boyd!” squawked Randy as he dived for cover behind a pot-plant in the corner of the foyer, “Hide!” But Piho didn’t hide, at least not right away. He was still looking out through the doors. Then suddenly he came scuttling in beside Randy, muttering, “Shite, look who's with him!”
Boyd burst in through the doors and into the foyer. Right behind him was the same woman they had met out in the street only a half-hour ago, and behind her, like a glued-on extension, was a guy with a shoulder-held TV camera.
“Mr Boyd,” the woman was saying, trying to thrust a little tape recorder into Barry Boyd’s face, “can you just give me a answer?! Why is your Council not taking these warnings seriously? A qualified marine biologist is saying that there is evidence of toxic spillage in Haulaway Bay yet...”
“Miss Baine,” snapped Boyd loudly, stopping to wave a threatening gesture in her face, “as I have already told you; you have my written statement and I Have No Further Comment! Now, if you don’t leave these premises immediately I shall call in the police!” He turned on his heal and strode off into the back rooms, slammed the door behind him.
The woman turned to her cameraman, “That’s a wrap,” she said gleefully, “I think we’ve got him this time! Let’s go.” And they quickly left the building.
The boys crept out of hiding. “Boyd!” groaned Randy to anyone who cared to listen, “Geez! That guy’s like a bad smell!”
But Piho seemed to have a lot more than that on his mind.
“She’s a reporter!” he wailed, “a friggin’ reporter! Arrrrrgh!”