Da Fall in da Usher House

Authors note: The following story was originally published by Vice-Versa Journal in 2010. I wrote this for a creative writing class while working towards my BA in English. I am Native Hawaiian, born and raised in the lands of my ancestors so it is written in Hawaiʻi Pidgin English; colloquial language of the Hawaiian islands. Please enjoy.

You know how sometimes funny kine t’ings happen to you an you like shi-shi yo’ pants ‘cuz da hair on da back of yo’ neck steh stickem up anykine an da dog (o’ da cat if you one feline kine people) steh making spooky kine noises dat sound like dey eida ready fo’ pound poi or ma-ke? Same t’ing wen’ happen to me.

One time, when I was youngah, mah friend from wen’ we was small kid eat boogah days wen’ call me up, ask me fo’ go his house. Braddah’s name was Rogerick Usher, not Usha like da kine movie theatah man but Usher like da singah, an he wen’ live at da kine, Big Island. I nevah wen’ talk to him long time, but I ran into da kine, one old classmate name Rochelle, who use to be fucken mean but look like one pit bull now, and she go tell da guy I steh looking fo’ him, give ‘em mah numbah erryt’ing, when I meant for her have ‘em jus’ in case she evah come mean looking again.  Fricken punk. So Usher call me up next day and tell, “Eh brah, come mah house li’ dat. I steh lonely and mah maddah an’ dad dem wen’ leave me dis big jumungous house.”

I nevah know what fo’ say, ‘cuz I nevah talk to da guy since da kine, Makahiki festival in 1983 but braddah was begging. Tell me he going fly me o’ deah an’ erryt’ing, tell me he miss talking story to me and stuffs so I nevah like say no. Plus too, I nevah went vacation long time ‘cuz I always strapped fo’ cash so I tell, “Get grinds?” When he say “Yeah, get,” I tell him, “Shoots, ‘cuz. Hook me up!”

Aftah I wen get off da plane I wen’ go look fo’ Usher but he no steh. So I call him an’ he tell, “no worry, I wen’ set you up wit’ one mean ride, cherry, brah, cherry.”

“Get good horsepowah?” I wen’ aks him.

“Good kine horsepowah fo’ real.” He promise, an’ tell me he see me in a few.

So I go to da place whea Usher said da guy was going pick me up. I go stand by da curb wit’ mah carry on in one hand an’ one pamphlet fo’ tour Big Island in da odda and lo’ an behold, one man pull up wit’ one fo’ real kine horse. I t’ought, he smoking crack! No ways I can ride da damn t’ing from Hilo International Airpaht to Kāʻū. Da only kine horse I evah ride was at da supahmahket,’ but I nevah have money fo’ fly mahself back home so I charge ‘em like one midget climbing one old lady and you know what? Wasn’t bad as I t’ot. Took me two days, but I made ‘em to da house.

Da Usher house was da ha-le of mah dreams ‘cuz was always big an’ kinda unreal. Had one roof dat was pitched so high look like one fingah pointing to Jesus in Heaven and saying, ‘dea him.’ Da house walls itself was made wit’ da kine lava rock stone an’ some say it was done by menehunes who da Ushers wen’ pay fo’ do. When we was in school, everybody wen’ say dat da Ushers was part mythological. Half human half mythological. In fact, Rochelle, da classmate who wen’ get me in dis heat in da first place said her braddah’s friend’s Aunty seen da moddah, Mrs. Usher, lele like Supahman ovah Pele’s house. Nobody like believe, but me, I believe. Da Ushers was all weird li’ dat.

So I get to da house an’ da shi-shi feeling steh strong. No make sense ‘cuz I jus’ pulled ‘em out an’ went on da side of da road two miles befo’ but I guess da body knows befo’ da brain do. Da same man who wen’ bring me da horse at da airpaht was waving me down, trying fo’ get mah attention so I can give mah horse to him an’ me, I nevah like make one scene so I go. Plus too, I jus’ rode da horse for days an’ mah belly was aching fo’ mea ‘ai an’ mah balls was going fall off so I jump off da horse an’ run like one sand crab towards da house.

Usher must’ve sensed me coming ‘cuz he opened his door and jumped out like one rumpled stilts skin. “Hui, brah!” He yelling. “Aloha! Hele mai, hele mai ‘oe, come inside, come inside.” He was uglier den Rochelle da pit bull, all white like one small bottle Elmer’s glue, lips all bleeding, eyes bugging out like da gray mo’o I wen smash on accident one time inside mah house. I was scared like hell of him but I limp toward him anyways, trying fo’ make big body. I go fo’ greet him but den da buggah pull back an’ make da sign of da cross wit’ his two hands. “No come too close, I steh sick wit’ anykine stuffs,” he said. “I get soah head, body aches, eyes no can see in da light good, an’ I kinda freaked out too.”

”Nah!” I winced little bit an’ thought of running away. Whatevah he had I nevah like catch, but mah feet an’ mah ‘opu kept me o’ deah. “What you maka’u about, mah braddah?” I aks him, an’ rub mah belly as if to hint him.

He catch on an’ let me in. Inside had anykine food on top one big assed table. You name it, had. Sweet potato, can lima beans, Oreo cookies, roast pork, cinnamon cake, pickle pigs feet … I help mahself while he talking about himself. Tell me how his moddah die, how his foddah die, how his aunties an’ uncles an’ cousins die.

“I going ma-ke.” He kept babbling. “You know Honey Girl?”

I shake mah head no an’ go fo’ grind da can lima beans. “Who dat, Honey Girl?”

“Dass mah sistah.” He tell in one real mysterious way. “She die too an’ now …” he grab one pickle pigs feet an’ suck on ‘em like one li hing plum. “Now going be me.”

Inside mah head, like all heads, get one small man who do all da t’inking work, an’ mine was scrambling around trying fo’ get pieces fo’ fit togethah. Honey Girl was nevah deah when me an’ Rogerick Usher played. If she was, I would’ve banged her planny times befoah I moved away, guarans bo-barans. Da Ushers all dying one after one noddah wen’ stick wit’ me too, but like I said, dey was all half-mythological an’ weird, so wasn’t too surprising to me. One mythological being die, dey all die. Den I wondah, “He going give me da house if he die, o’ what?” But I no aks. Jus’ follow him around an’ listen.

He telling me anykine stuff, all dese diseases he get, what kine stuffs going on in his bowels. I don’t know whether fo’ yawn or celebrate mah new house. An’ den he take me to dis spot where he reads me one weird poem he wrote:

Da house of Usher stands right here
Dressed in F-E-A-R, fear
First comes death, den comes more
Den evil things creep though the door.

He ended it with a sing-song whisper, “and carries us awaaaaaay.”

Ho, I tell you I had chicken skin. Mah hair was standing up everywhere I get hair, da shi-shi felt like whooshing out an’ somewhere, somehow, a dog escaped an’ howled like someone was going cook ‘em fo’ dinnah.

But he aks me fo’ stay and, like one dummy, I did. Da firs’ few days he tell me he sick, he sick, an’ den he start telling me about his sistah, Honey Girl. I steh tinking of ways how I going get back at our classmate once-fucken-mean-now-turned-pit-bull Rochelle when Rogerick start asking me if I like see da body.

I nevah did see one dead body, except fo’ mah grandmoddah’s one at her funeral so I go wit’ him. She steh lying down on one bed, motionless. I expected Honey Girl fo’ stink like one boar carcass aftah a few days but nevah smell too bad, so I was happy. I remembah looking at her an’ looking him an’ t’inking I nevah woulda banged her after all ‘cuz she looked like one exact clone of him except wit’ long hair an’ smaller chi-chis. I shuddered so hard, I can still feel ‘em to dis day.

“Try help me bury her.” He go. I nevah like but I t’ink, if I going get da house aftah he die, it’s da least I can do. So I help braddah carry her to dis area he set up wit’ one coffin an’ we trow her inside.

Aftah dis he tell me he like be buried li’ dat too, inside one box whea people can open ‘em an’ check inside once in a while an’ aftah a few days, I get irras.

“Why you keep talking about dis kine?” I aks but he steh crying making all bebeh kine sounds. He making such a big fuss, telling her he love her an’ he wish he could be wit’ her forevah. Was like she was his wife or something, was jus’ plain weird. So I try go leave him by himself so he can kiss or whatevah an he look me wit’ his eyes bulging out his face an’ faint.

I stayed couple more days aftah dat fo’ nurse him an’ da whole time he kept telling me he was seeing ghosts and stuffs all around him. Was scaring me ‘cuz I started fo’ see dem too so I told him he was nuts an’ needed some rest. But he kept going, going, going wit’ da stories. “Oh, dey outside you see ‘em?” he aks one night.

An’ finally, wit’ mah heart inside da back mah throat I go, “NO!” Den I tell him one mo‘olelo about how not fo’ be scared. I say, “one time, Maui was scared of da sun. People kept telling braddah he going get burn up, he going die, but Maui was brave an’ took control of da situation. He threw dat rope an’ braced himself an’ da sun wen’ scream.”

Right when I say dat, we hear one scream like one fat lady who see one free ice cream sign an’ we jump up. I listen fo’ more but no get, so I keep going wit’ mah brave story.

I tell how Maui fought wit’ da sun, lasso’d his body wit’ cordage an’ pull ‘em up to one tree. “Maui was brave an’ strong an’ he stay yelling at da sun fo’ stop moving so fast bumbye he going douse ‘em wit’ watah. Da sun, he stay screaming,” I tell him, “struggling like one rat in one metal kine trap.” An’ right when I describe dat, one metal t’ing wen’ fall down.

Sound like was in da direction of Honey Girl’s coffin, but I not sure so I sit dea an’ hope Rogerick deals wit’ ‘em. He don’t. Instead, he steh screaming dat his sistah’s ghost going take him wit’ her, dat he going die li’ dat.

Mah brain steh jam ‘em up. I t’inking I like da house, but I no like da house. If she going take him wit’ her, I going hide, an’ mah eyes was going all ovah da house, trying fo’ find someplace. I look behind me an’ I see Rogerick, looking like Maui in da story I was telling. Like one man going fo’ face his fear, like one man who mean business. Bettah you den me, brah, I think to mahself an’ I watch him inch slowly, slowly, slowly to da coffin.

He reach his hand out little by little by little an’ den, jus’ as he about to pull da t’ing open, da coffin shot out by itself an’ da door, Rogerick an’ Honey Girl fell down in one pile. She, da corpse, was screaming like hell an’ Rogerick was undahneat her moaning like one man who ate way too much ‘opihi. Her head was going in circles above him an’ I could tell she was eating his brains.

Me, I hauled ass befo’ she could see me an’ I nevah evah went back. I stole da damn horse and swam back home ‘cuz I nevah had plane money. I nevah got one chance to thank once-fucken-mean-looking-but-now-one-pit-bull Rochelle fo’ what she put me through. But I tell you what.  If you evah see her, tell her come visit me.  Queens Hospital, Kekela Ward.

I steh waiting …

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© M. Lee / All Rights Reserved.