Tony and Eli grabbed me so that I didn’t lunge at him again. “Fine. Like I care. And by the way, while we’re all here, Stuart, how can someone who’s a big shot TV network guy like you be so incredibly fucking cheap that he actually seeks out free bootleg CDs of a children’s movie? I mean, how can anyone be that fucking cheap, Stuart?”
Victory! I could see everyone thinking: Well, yes, this Gunt does have a point. Why couldn’t a flunky have bought one for you? You couldn’t just get it off Apple TV or Netflix? You really had to save a few bucks by having someone import a bootleg?
Nailed you, you fucker.
“Actually, the CDs weren’t for me, you selfish dickhead. They were for the children’s hospice in Bonriki.” Hospice? Uh-oh.
“That’s right, a hospice! For children dying of cancer. Yes, you heard that right, cancer.”
I could feel audience sympathy drifting Stuart’s way.
“The trans-Pacific Internet connection went down, and the children really wanted to see Harry Potter, like it was a final wish, so I thought that I, Stuart, would make a difference. So excuse me if helping some dying children get their final wish is cheap. I guess we should all follow your fine example and retreat to a lagoon-side fuck hut while the rest of the world goes to hell.”
I could then see an idea entering Stuart’s mind, and I sensed I wouldn’t like it one bit. “Yes, well, Herry,” he said calmly. “I’m not a total asshole, and I apologize to your mother for swearing at her.” He looked at Mother, who was just then shaking dandruff flakes from her hair. “Sorry about that.”
“Not to worry, whoever you are.”
Stuart turned back to me. “Okay, here’s the deal. Just to show you how magnanimous I am, I’ll set you a challenge. If you can eat a full bowl of bugs, you can have your job back.”
“Really? You’re not just fucking with me?”
“In front of everyone I give you my word: one bowl of insect medley and you are not just a B-unit cameraman again, but you officially become an A-unit cameraman, with a hike in pay.”
I had to admit, being an A-unit cameraman has always been a career dream of mine. How hard could it be to eat some bugs? What was the catch? I nodded.
Stuart called out, “Okay, fifteen-minute break for everyone while Raymond here eats a bowl of mixed insects. Gather close!”
Cast members and crew bustled in to form a circle around me. Moments later, Scott appeared with a writhing bowl of … well, nature’s medley: grubs, spiders, centipedes, millipedes, encyclopedias, mumps, cysts and whatever other unholy spawn the crew had managed to find beneath the island’s logs.
But here’s the thing: the show’s contestants were actually starving, whereas I had had a delightful meal of cheeses and cold cuts in Neal’s palace. There was barely room for a Mars bar inside me.
If Sarah were there, she would have stopped Stuart from being such a twat. What did she see in him?
“Okay, Herry, every single bug down the hatch and fully swallowed. Puke and you’re out—unless you choose to ingest the puke, but I don’t credit you with that level of commitment.”
“Fine, Stuart, I understand.”
Me, an A-unit cameraman!
“Good. Now let’s get some cameras rolling—I want to document this train wreck.”
Mother nuzzled in beside Stuart and began brown-nosing. “You should see his refrigerator back home, a cold and godless place it is. Ooh, look at that little bugger there—he’s got to be a six-incher, and all those tiny legs—it makes you marvel at the universe.”
Chili Cicadas with Rice
A beloved Mexican classic—and a sure-fire
family-pleaser for those special occasions.
½ onion
3 tablespoons olive oil
¾ cup cicadas
1 12-ounce can navy beans, drained
1 6-oz can tomato paste
3 teaspoons chili powder
1 clove garlic, minced
Dice the onion and sauté in olive oil. After a minute or
so, add the cicadas and cook until both onions and
insects are translucent. Yes, that is correct: translucent.
Add the remaining ingredients and simmer on low heat
until flavours have melded together—at least one hour.
Ladle onto brown rice.
Be sure to serve it more than once every
seventeen years … Olé!
The flavours came in waves: a pecan-like crunch, followed by an avocado smoothness, followed by a glob of something chowdery and phlegmy. Next? A clump of larvae, tasting something like chanterelle mushrooms.
Did all of the wriggling and writhing disturb me, you ask? Fuck no. That’s why God gave us jaws. Added bonus? Live bugs were better than anything you’d find in a Honolulu Airport vending machine. I ploughed through my bowl like it was so much bar mix, with supportive chanting from all around.