O stupid young chief

It was kind of like being in a timed vegetable-chopping contest. There's a fine line between winning and a prosthesis.

So as Kaneloa entered the toxic Tube of Ka-lai-pahoa, the evil sorcery god of Molokai, he was thinking be fast, not foolhardy. He was in a rush reach the Royal Rotunda of King Kavawai beneath the Kona Coast, called evermore urgently by the bones of Kamehameha the Great. That's why he'd left the company of the other young chiefs with whom he was traveling to contend for the hand of the king's daughter, Princess Tuberosa La'a, forsaking the safe but slower route from Molokai to Lanai to Maui and then to the Big Island. Three days, maybe more, one of the other young men said he'd save, "but it's a guess, no one has ever survived since Ka-lai-pahoa put his curse on it."

To even touch the wall would bring certain death, as would being touched by just a drop of water from the ceiling. And The Tube was, geologically speaking, leaky in places.

Still Kaneloa had dashed past the foreboding Ka-lai-pahoa in the form of a swirling green toxic mist. Staying to the center of The Tube, he walked quickly but carefully, alternately watching his step and looking up to spot and avoid dripping areas. The air was dank, like a fermenting illegal chemical dump site, or maybe humpback whale flatulence, and soon he was jogging. Kaneloa couldn't understand why Ka-lai-pahoa would poison something as perfect as The Tube, but he had. There was evil in the world. He was surrounded by it.

But it wasn't just that he wanted to exit this pilau place as soon as possible. He was taking chances for the sake of the Great King. Kaneloa didn't understand why he was being called, only that he must obey. Faster he ran, dodging the occasional stalagmite created on the floor by the mineral deposits in dripping water, ducking stalactites growing down from the ceiling. Kaneloa was young and fit from his work, and he ran with a kind of joy, for he was following the call of the Great King and thus serving the gods, and felt strong as the miles fell behind him.

Kaneloa was beginning to think that he might make it from one end of Molokai to the other in just one day when suddenly he felt weak, and slowed to a walk. Then he was gasping for air, forcing himself to keep his feet moving, not to stumble.

"I didn't touch the walls ... " he wheezed. "I avoided the poison drips ... "

"So they told you about that part, did they, O Stupid Young Chief of Oahu?" the swirling green mist cackled, formalizing it. "But did they warn you against breathing the air? Or that your death will be slow and terrible? Stupid stupid stupid."