Tony was on a quest for that balance between spiritual enlightenment and earthly fulfillment.  He studied life and love. He studied poetry, history, and society. He studied the ocean and the mountains, the bars. He studied the bars some more. Then studied the bars even further. Hos love for seaside dalliance, the blank page of creativity, culture, and a fascination of spiritual debauchery led him inevitably to Tiki.

One night he was on a large wooden platform, among a dither of party. The patrons were grimace faced, smiling deviously. Large glossy countenances of every known emotion, and a few he couldn’t place pranced about in an awkward rhythmic dance. Tribal drums beat an exotic cadence. The mercurial lambency dazed and confused him. A chant echoed. Distant at first, then creeping louder, and louder. It all came together, it all seemed … fluid. Like a cocktail of folly.

Tony could feel himself sloshing. A wave of intemperance building within, drawing him into the party. The realization struck him, these people weren’t dressed like Tikis … they were Tikis. Before he could come to grips that he too was like them he was being hoisted by a great hand. Lifted towards a large face. The giant’s lips pursed around is head as he felt his life force being drained before being placed down. Empty and alone he found he wasn’t scared, but a comforting feeling of satisfaction had wafted over him. He had done is job.

Tony awoke, ah, it was only a dream. Turning towards the nightstand he noticed the Pod Tiki Mug glaring and he knew what he must do. Armed with a Panama hat, aviator sunglasses, and a one love attitude Tony set out to bring Tiki to the word!

                                       Salute!