Entry 19: Forest Face-Off
When Kookie and Louis arrived at the forest on the outskirts of Timboon, Victoria, it was already past sunset. Having become acclimatised to city living, Louis felt spooked and Kookie couldn’t even confirm if it was his home forest.
“I thought you lived here for the first decade of your life? Granted, you’re like an infinity years old,” Louis said.
“Yes. I lived in the forest until after the first of many Timboon-Warrnambool bird wars and then departed for jobs of employment in public relations.”
“Does anything here look familiar to you?”
“The trees are how the trees look in a forest-”
“Ugh such a stupid-”
That’s when they were interrupted by a loud cackling. It was one of the duck skaters – the main duck skater – zooming forward on a skateboard painted in purple and blue stripes.
“Well, well, look who shows up!” he said, coming to a neat halt before them. They heard the other ducks approaching from the shadows and before long, Kookie and Louis were surrounded.
“That kookaburra’s getting fatter than your fat mum,” one of the sidekicks remarked to the main duck skater.
“Oh be quiet, Jazz!” he said and she covered her eyes with her polka dot beanie.
The main skater turned back to Louis, “So, we got ourselves into a bit of a situation here, mate.” He began to circle Louis on his skateboard, throwing a torch in his face.
“You think you can just bugger right out of the country, never to be seen again.”
“Yeah, just like fly out,” Jazz added.
“Yeah, it’s the Duck in the trenches here, mate,” a third duck said.
“Sorry, I panicked,” Louis said, gulping. “Besides, you sent an armed bear after me. What’d you expect? I wasn’t going to get shot by a bear. Or eaten. I don’t even know which one was more likely, or the worst-case scenario.”
“I have a friend who experienced both, reckons it’s better to be shot,” Jazz said.
The main duck shrugged and continued circling Louis, “That’s just the way the bird seeds crumble, mate! You don't pay your debt, you face an assassin.”
Louis suddenly jumped and looked around, “Is the bear back?”
“Yeah, he’s back. So’s your four-eyed friend.”
“Who, Samson?”
“Yeah, Samsung or who-so-ever. He thought he was joining a reunion, what an idiot!”
“Such an idiot!” another duck echoed with glee.
“Too bad he didn’t realise this is a real-life Aussie bird trap.”
“A one-off special,” the other duck noted.
“Now follow me folks, we’ll have a civilised discussion.”
Louis and Kookie followed the main duck down a dirt path through the woods. The other ducks trailed them on their skateboards, watching their every move. The forest was covered in darkness and there were animals and insects skittering between trees and up trunks and on branches. None of them were clear enough to see. Kookie yelled “Nyaaa!” when a lizard passed too close by him in the long grass, then muttered “Ugly bugs!” and Louis slapped the back of his head to keep him in his senses.
After a short while, Louis saw a faint orange glow coming from the direction the main duck was leading them. Once closer, he saw a clearing framed by trees, and in the middle of the clearing was the round, yellow Duck. In one wing, he held up a single matchstick. Behind him was Felice ‘Fatty’ Bearscaglia, the brown bear and bounty hunter (and former personal language coach) of the Duck. Samson was sitting on a rock nearby, hypnotised by the flame. His magnified eyes were fixed on it through his brand-new frames.
The flame went out and the Duck gave a disapproving “Quack”. He gestured to Fatty, who gave him another matchstick, which the Duck lit and held up, again. There was a pile of used matchsticks in the grass.
When the Duck saw the duck skaters approaching with Louis and Kookie, he gave an approving quack. Samson clapped.
The main duck gestured for the new arrivals to stop.
“Quack,” the Duck said.
The main duck translated: “So you have arrived. Better late than never, you white-collar criminals.”
“Quack.”
“Too bad that I, the Duck, am a blue-collar criminal. I won’t hesitate to burn this forest to the ground – and you and all of Kookie’s family with it.”
“Quack.”
“Unless you immediately repay the debt that you owe me, plus the exorbitant late payment fees.”
Louis shivered, “I’m sorry, I don’t have the money.”
“Quack?!”
“The Duck says: You dare refuse to pay? Well, you know what happens next.”
“Wait!” Louis said, holding up a wing, “I came to talk to you because I have a proposition.”
“Quack?”
“Another one of your propositions? They’re as solid as treehouses made out of wet cardboard,” the duck skater looked unsure here, and the Duck’s reproachful quack confirmed that he hadn’t quite captured his delicate turn of phrase.
“Yes well- this one is good. Well, depending on how much you care about sales and profits.”
“Quack?”
“The Duck is querying: profits?”
“Yeah, profits,” Louis continued, more confidently now, “You see, Kookie is a walking promise of future profits.”
“Quack.”
“The Duck says: I thought he was known for scams.”
“Exactly! He’s a kookaburra who scams. Not to mention his past in public relationships and philosophy teaching and record-breaking number of failed businesses. What do you think caused his chaotic life and his growing lack of common sense?” Louis left out the part about the magic portals, which was a useful secret to keep.
“Quack.”
“The Duck says: I already know all about the Cwazy Gene. Spare me your history lesson. You think I was born yesterday? I was born recently, but not yesterday.”
“What if I told you I’m planning to publish a tell-all about Kookie Banjo Jr., a detailed biography based on my first-hand experiences and interviews with him? The book will raise awareness about the Cwazy Gene and make Kookie infamous. I’m sure it’ll be a hit, and I promise you at least 50% of the profits – if you let us go for now.”
“It is a completely unauthorised biography,” Kookie added as if it was a selling point.
The Duck was silent and everyone waited. The matchstick in his wing had gone out again but he didn’t motion to Fatty to pass him another one. Fatty was glaring at Louis but he wasn’t wearing his bullet belt, which was a relief.
Finally, the Duck quacked.
The main duck skater turned to Louis, “The Duck says: that’ll be a hard pass from me. I prefer the sight of flames to anything you put down on paper. Fatty, pass me another matchstick. And don’t worry if it’s the last one remaining.”
