Makaha Nights

Midgets, BJ’s and Wheelchairs

I owned a small Kung-Fu school in the old Cornets in Makaha, Hawaii for about a decade, living onsite and moonlighting as a small security company.

I feel security begins with community and so I spent a very large contingent of my time in outreach mode. Empathy engaged can give you just what you need when working with the enraged. It is a powerful skill set to possess, unfortunately chaos does not exactly recognize skill and enjoys its unpredictability.

The accompanying quote is a companion to a true story, one of many while working those crazy Makaha Nights.

I had outfitted the entire mall with security cameras which were displayed on several large flat screen tv monitors in my living room.

24/7 reality tv pumped real time into my living room for years and my cable bill suffered.

All I needed to do was turn up the volume and the story played out like a Greek tragedy.

Normally, I would leave the monitors muted until aggressive body language, rubber necking or just anything out of the norm would trigger a volume increase.

The things people talk about would rock your reality.

But, that is subject for many more stories I am happy to share in forthcoming post.

Late one Saturday night I see a man in a wheelchair struggling to get up onto the sidewalk in the dark corner of the beach side of the Mall. One of the most popular travelers rest stops, this dark corner would burn the nose hairs from your nostrils at a hundred paces. The mall janitor tried everything short of nuclear enzymes to get the ammonia smell to leave but clean never happened in this corner.

knowing the toxicity and that shadows survive on surprise, I decide to head downstairs and walk some rounds. As a small business owner at the mall and the only resident, it is a best practice to discourage the onslaught of the ammonia assault.

It is a quiet night, but silence means only one thing, some funky sh!t is out and about.

S.Harflinger

I round the corner and the man in the wheelchair is still off in the corner and it does not take 20 minutes to water the concrete. Concerned, my direction turns towards the wheelchaired man and as I approach him it becomes clear that a woman is kneeling down between his legs.

As ammonia chokes my throat I introduce my presence.

“Excuse me, but the beach is soooooo much more romantic, you two have a beautiful thing going on but I cant with a good conscious allow y……..”

It was at that exact moment my sentence was interrupted by a 2×4 strike to the head.

Dammit, I had allowed the ammonia ridden, wheelchaired shadow sex to distract me and Makaha after midnight is not a place to get distracted.

Adrenaline pumping, blood running down my neck, the Marine whom I keep nicely put away begins banging at the doors of my composure.

As I turn, my assailant brings in a second swing to which I step back, physically at first and for but a second, mentally.

Before me, wielding a 4 foot 2X4 which had been crudely fashioned into a post apocalyptic frat paddle stood a 30 something midget. An angry midget who was setting up for a third swing at me.

Nails grip into my shoulders as the shadow succubus pulls me back, screaming in my ear, the spittle was intense, my imagination wondered if that was truly spittle or a mix of something and spittle. As the third swing approaches, I step in and plant my foot in the midgets chest, throwing him back several feet knocking free his frat paddle.

I pick up the frat paddle as the surreal reality of the moment strikes me.

Did I just front kick a violent midget into the shadows like Leonidas I of Sparta?

I shut down the raving succubus by bringing in my very loud and powerful Gandolf voice..

“Move your blowjobs to the beach..”

Defeating the rabid frat midget must have been enough as she moves in behind the man and pushes the wheelchair across the street to the beach.

I see the shadow of the midget round the corner of the mall and I sprint off to return his relic.

“Hey!, I’ve got your frat paddle!”

He quickens his step but my stride outpaces him and soon I am on one knee in front of him, eye to eye.

“What the fuck was that about?’ as I smear a bit of my own blood onto my hands and hold it before his face.

“I thought you were messing with my friend.” his eyes shifted right, his tell plain as day.

He was lying.

So, I gave his paddle back and left him with a warning.

“Next time I’ll kick higher.”

When asked why I wasn’t going to call the Cops, my answer scared him more than I expected.

“I’m not calling the Cops, I’m telling the community all about wheelchair blowjobs and frat paddles in the ammonia isles of shadow island, you guys have WAY too much free time after midnight and the neighborhood gonna hear about it.”

I watch the midgets shadow shrink as he disappears down Lahaina street.

I get back upstairs and tend to my wounds, lots of hydrogen peroxide that night washed the spittle and blood from my tank top.

I walk into the living room as camera 7 catches my eye.

A wheechair, a shadow and the fluorescent flickering of a beach park street lamp.

Another Makaha Night to fill up another Makaha story..

Keep an eye out for this blog category “Makaha Nights” as I’ve got a decades worth of similar stories and adventures while I ran my Kung Fu school and raised a family on top of the old Cornets in Makaha, HI.

Lahi Lahi point, Makaha, HI


Makaha, Hawaii on the island of Oahu

Picture of Sean Harflinger

Sean Harflinger

Gen X Creative, Poet, Podcaster, Writer and Tortured Artist

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