The Weasel: A Big Huna Novel
The Weasel--a name that perfectly captured the man. Skinny, with a complexion like sunbaked earth, this Hawaiian in his 40s was a fixture of Waikiki's underbelly. He lived a transient life, his van doubling as his home when the waves weren't calling. Tourists were his bread and butter, easy marks for the pot he peddled on the sun-drenched beaches. Nights found him smoking ice, mesmerized by Bonnie Lim, a Chinese girl who danced on a stage bathed in colored lights.
I've known the Weasel for over 20 years, and he has never changed since the day that I met him. A couple of days ago, the Weasel, ever the picture of decorum, was arrested while urinating on a palm tree in front of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Kalakaua Street. It wasn't his first brush with the law, but this time, things were different.

Passed out in the drunk tank, he'd become an unwitting victim of identity theft. A parole violator named Mike Dana had appropriated the Weasel's name to secure his own freedom, because there is no bail for a parole violation. So, when the shift changed, Mike said he wanted to bail out using the Weasel's name, thus leaving the real Weasel holding the bag.

My name is Daniel Huna, I'm the Chief Inspector for the Hawaiian State Police, a nickname born from my impressive stature. Three-hundred and thirty pounds, topped with a head the size of a small pumpkin--I wasn't exactly built for subtlety. My demeanor, however, often surprised people. Sweet, even gentle, leading some to question my sexual orientation, but at my size, I answer to no one but myself--and act however I damn well please.

This darkly funny crime novel is the fourth installment in the Big Huna series. It's a wild ride you won't soon forget
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The Weasel: A Big Huna Novel
The Weasel--a name that perfectly captured the man. Skinny, with a complexion like sunbaked earth, this Hawaiian in his 40s was a fixture of Waikiki's underbelly. He lived a transient life, his van doubling as his home when the waves weren't calling. Tourists were his bread and butter, easy marks for the pot he peddled on the sun-drenched beaches. Nights found him smoking ice, mesmerized by Bonnie Lim, a Chinese girl who danced on a stage bathed in colored lights.
I've known the Weasel for over 20 years, and he has never changed since the day that I met him. A couple of days ago, the Weasel, ever the picture of decorum, was arrested while urinating on a palm tree in front of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Kalakaua Street. It wasn't his first brush with the law, but this time, things were different.

Passed out in the drunk tank, he'd become an unwitting victim of identity theft. A parole violator named Mike Dana had appropriated the Weasel's name to secure his own freedom, because there is no bail for a parole violation. So, when the shift changed, Mike said he wanted to bail out using the Weasel's name, thus leaving the real Weasel holding the bag.

My name is Daniel Huna, I'm the Chief Inspector for the Hawaiian State Police, a nickname born from my impressive stature. Three-hundred and thirty pounds, topped with a head the size of a small pumpkin--I wasn't exactly built for subtlety. My demeanor, however, often surprised people. Sweet, even gentle, leading some to question my sexual orientation, but at my size, I answer to no one but myself--and act however I damn well please.

This darkly funny crime novel is the fourth installment in the Big Huna series. It's a wild ride you won't soon forget
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The Weasel: A Big Huna Novel

The Weasel: A Big Huna Novel

by Ralph Griffith
The Weasel: A Big Huna Novel

The Weasel: A Big Huna Novel

by Ralph Griffith

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Overview

The Weasel--a name that perfectly captured the man. Skinny, with a complexion like sunbaked earth, this Hawaiian in his 40s was a fixture of Waikiki's underbelly. He lived a transient life, his van doubling as his home when the waves weren't calling. Tourists were his bread and butter, easy marks for the pot he peddled on the sun-drenched beaches. Nights found him smoking ice, mesmerized by Bonnie Lim, a Chinese girl who danced on a stage bathed in colored lights.
I've known the Weasel for over 20 years, and he has never changed since the day that I met him. A couple of days ago, the Weasel, ever the picture of decorum, was arrested while urinating on a palm tree in front of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Kalakaua Street. It wasn't his first brush with the law, but this time, things were different.

Passed out in the drunk tank, he'd become an unwitting victim of identity theft. A parole violator named Mike Dana had appropriated the Weasel's name to secure his own freedom, because there is no bail for a parole violation. So, when the shift changed, Mike said he wanted to bail out using the Weasel's name, thus leaving the real Weasel holding the bag.

My name is Daniel Huna, I'm the Chief Inspector for the Hawaiian State Police, a nickname born from my impressive stature. Three-hundred and thirty pounds, topped with a head the size of a small pumpkin--I wasn't exactly built for subtlety. My demeanor, however, often surprised people. Sweet, even gentle, leading some to question my sexual orientation, but at my size, I answer to no one but myself--and act however I damn well please.

This darkly funny crime novel is the fourth installment in the Big Huna series. It's a wild ride you won't soon forget

Product Details

BN ID: 2940186216148
Publisher: XAK Media Inc
Publication date: 08/05/2024
Series: A Big Huna Novel , #4
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
File size: 415 KB

About the Author

Ralph Griffith: A Life Lived in Ink

Ralph Griffith's story is woven from the vibrant threads of a life less ordinary. Born in 1951 amidst the Cold War’s chill, his childhood antennae was acutely tuned to the dissonance between reality and government narratives. This skepticism blossomed into a rebellious spirit, finding its zenith in the electrifying Summer of Love. At 15, Ralph’s heart pulsed to the rhythm of the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead, his soul resonating with the counterculture’s whirlwind in the Haight-Ashbury District of San Francisco where he had escaped to.

Destiny, however, had other plans. A brush with LSD at 16 landed Ralph in the Nevada Youth Authority—a crucible he promptly escaped--his restless spirit yearning for new adventures. This escape coincided with the tragic assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, events that indelibly marked the canvas of his youth. Ralph became an unwitting witness to history, his life forever intertwined with these pivotal moments.

As Ralph reached his thirties, a different kind of confinement beckoned. A foray into bank robbing landed him in federal prisons, where he spent over 30 years navigating the stark realities of incarceration. Yet, even within these walls, Ralph's spirit refused to be caged. It was there, amidst the clanging of cell doors and the harsh hum of fluorescent lights, that he discovered a new path – writing.

His final 14-year stretch became a literary genesis. Fueled by a desire to reclaim his narrative, Ralph poured his experiences onto the page. Seven years spent alongside Bernie Madoff at FCI Butner became the raw material for a gripping exposé. "Monkey House" and "The Real Bernie Madoff" offered scathing indictments of financial corruption. Meanwhile, his imaginative prowess shines through in series like “The Harry Chin Murder Mysteries,” “The Johnny Walker Detective Novels,” “The Clyde Thomas Novels,” “The Too-Sweet Sagas,” and “The Big Huna Novels.”

Today, Ralph resides in the Pacific Northwest, his days immersed in the tranquil beauty of Washington state’s landscapes. Yet, the ink coursing through his veins still carries the vibrancy of those early days in San Francisco. His life’s adventures, as unconventional as they may be, have endowed him with a wealth of stories yet to be told. And Ralph, with his relentless spirit and boundless creativity, is just beginning to weave these tales into the rich tapestry of his burgeoning literary legacy.
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