Entry 20: Hidden Ally

A long time ago, when Kookie knew how fly, it was still an atrocious way of flying. His altitude of flying gradually became lower as he gained weight, until finally he flew only inches away from the ground. One time, flying like this to a donut shop, he was laughed at by a bunch of cockatoos up in a passing tree.

“You’re an embarrassment to the bird community!” one yelled out.

“Yeah, next thing he’ll be waddling, commuting on the bus like those loser humans,” another cockatoo said and they all began guffawing.

Kookie peered up at them, his face so surprisingly blank it chilled them to the bone. Then they shrugged and went back to chatting about their latest finds in the residential bins, a far more interesting topic.

Little did they know that far from fazing Kookie with their bullying, they gave him the final permission slip he needed to stop flying altogether. Yes, it was a tipping point. He landed on the concrete a short distance away from the donut shop and walked the last few metres at an extremely slow pace.

Before long, Kookie was so accustomed to walking, he lost all ability to fly.

Now, as the Duck held up the final matchstick in the forest, the duck skaters stood waiting with their skateboards.

“Quack,” the Duck said in Louis’ direction.

“It looks like it’ll be impossible for you to handle Kookie’s weight,” the main duck skater translated, “So when this place goes up in flames, you’ll have the option to fly away and save yourself, or perish together! The choice is yours… I’m democratic that way.” The duck skater glanced at the Duck and added as an aside, with a chuckle, “Yeah good one! Democracy and all that ethical jargon. A very modern twist.”

The Duck turned sharply to Samson, who was still sitting on the rock, “Quack!”

“And if you, you sneaky four-eyed square, try to help Louis save Kookie, you’ll have a target on your back next!”

Samson gulped and muttered, “It’s better to eat whipped cream than to gaze at clouds in the shape of whipped cream.”

The Duck turned to the skaters last and nodded in a silent signal. He dropped the lit matchstick to the forest floor. The flames caught on and before long, started spreading to the nearby trees. The Duck jumped on to the back of one of the skateboards and the duck skaters rode off at high speed. As they left, the Duck called out to Fatty to follow with an assertive “Quack!”

Only then did Louis realise Fatty hadn’t moved from his place in the shadows.

“I shall follow you immediately! I will keep an eye on the birds,” Fatty replied to the Duck, who seemed satisfied with this explanation before disappearing into the distance.

This last image of the Duck became seared into Louis’ brain: a round yellow duckling several times the size of an ordinary duckling, lounging on the back of a skateboard manned chaotically by a duck wearing a backwards cap, swerving between trees with the yellow flicker of the flames like a strobe light on the scene of the crime…

Louis was in the worst panic of his life. Not only was it impossible to carry Kookie all by himself, he was at risk of being tackled by a bear even if he tried. Meanwhile, Samson didn’t even bother escaping. He had moved away from the flames but now stood looking at them, mesmerised.

“A real life fire!” he whispered and clapped his wings. 

“Get out of the way, you stupid birds!” Fatty scolded them all in his strong Italian accent. He had wandered into the woods a few moments ago, and now returned carrying buckets full of water.

“This is my hidden stash of water. Every drop is essential! So do not disturb me, you hear!” he glared at Samson in particular, “And I do not want to hear any more dialogues about whipped cream or your earlier monologue-gem about the pros versus cons of working as a pigeon at a steel factory!”

Samson giggled but backed off.

Louis was shocked, “Wait, you’re helping us?”

“What’d I say about silence?”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

The birds watched as Fatty threw multiple large buckets of water at the flames. He then stamped out the last of it by lunging himself to the ground and rolling around, which made Louis scratch his head but also glad to see the fire gone.

Fatty stood up, seemingly unharmed. Some of his fur was singed but that was it.

He crossed his arms, “Now, you can ask me questions, but hurry. I assure you, the Duck will be watching the forest from its peripheries to ensure it is engulfed. He will soon catch on that it hasn’t, in fact, gone up in flames. We will have to leave before then.”

“Why’d you help us?” Louis asked.

“Is it because you admire my family tree?” Kookie asked.

“No. It is because I am a pacifist!” Fatty waved one paw in the air to emphasise the point. “I do not believe in violence.”

The birds gasped.

“Yeah, but you chased me through the city armed to the teeth with weaponry,” Louis objected. “Plus… you were wearing a bullet belt.”

Fatty looked at him like he couldn’t be more of an idiot, “What, you think that means anything! I coerce to the extreme through verbal intimidation and violent threats. That doesn’t mean I resort to physically aggression, were you born yesterday?”

“Okay…”

The bear stamped around in a huff, crossing and uncrossing his arms, he was so worked up.

“Wait, didn’t the Duck already know you were a pacifist?”

“Yes. I’m sure he is suspicious why I stayed behind,” Fatty looked around warily. “We need to leave immediately.”

“How are you going to survive in a foreign country without the mentorship and money of the Duck? 

“What is this, 60 Minutes?!” Fatty yelled. Then suddenly he became awkward and shy. His beady eyes trailed the length of the ground. “Well, actually, I was hoping to join you. And maybe you could help me return to Europe.” He shrugged then defiantly growled and resumed in his usual, aggressively high pitch, “You better help me! You owe me the biggest favour in the free world.”

Louis sighed. He glanced between Fatty, Kookie and Samson. Great, he thought. As if this group wasn’t weird enough, now we’re going to be accompanied by a bear wearing a stylish green scarf.

“Alright, alright, we’ll help you!”

“And I am interested in learning about pacifism,” Kookie informed Fatty, “Only strictly in theory. Betraying pacifism is my next proposition.”

Fatty was in too much of a hurry to let out his fury at this tacky observation. “Now let’s go, you fools!”