Big Kahuna Plays for His Soul

By Stefon Mears

Akela "Big Kahuna" Kapule: not just a hustler, a pool wizard. Literally. He divines the future with cubes of blue chalk. He weaves spells with a cue in his hand.

Big Kahuna protects pool halls around Portland, Oregon. Tonight that drags him to a dive that he hates. A dive stalked by dire trouble.

Tonight he faces a threat to his very soul.

"Big Kahuna Plays for His Soul" – an exciting short story of urban fantasy adventure, starring a hero with attitude and a unique take on magic. By Stefon Mears, author of the Ars Portlandia series and the Cavan Oltblood novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thousand Faces Publishing
• Release date: Jun 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386048749

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Big Kahuna Plays for His Soul

Big Kahuna Plays for His Soul

Stefon Mears

Thousand Faces Publishing

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Also by Stefon Mears

I hated everything about Dan’s place.

Well, almost everything. The pool tables were all right. Level enough to serve, with decent rails and that nice, slick cloth. Like some knock-off of Simonis.

And to be fair, it was a pool hall, so the place at least got the most important thing about itself right. Which was part of the reason I was there on a Friday evening, instead of haunting some higher-class establishment.

Even if I hated everything else about Dan’s Billiards.

First of all, a place called Dan’s Billiards should damn well have a billiard table, shouldn’t it?

Nope. Pool only. Not even a snooker table. Of course, there was no bumper pool either, but that was probably Dan doing something right on accident. You know what they say about broken clocks.

Then there was Dan, himself. Dan Pool-is-actually-pocket-billiards-so-the-name-fits Johnson. He was fat and smelly, with thinning hair and sallow skin. And he wore those awful bargain-brand irregular suits like they came from Brooks Brothers, and still had the nerve to give everyone – even me – a condescending smile.

If he wasn’t careful, one of these days someone would take one of his fine, Belgian cue balls and knock every one of his tobacco-yellow teeth out of his head.

Probably wouldn’t be me, much as I liked to think about doing it. Truth was, I only actually abused people who had it coming. And unearned arrogance just wasn’t enough, in my book.

The lack of whiskey in this place might have been enough. I’d been twenty-one for six whole