Entry 4: Photo Competition

When Samson the pigeon joined Kookie and Louis for the first time at The Café (see: Entry 1), it was fortuitous timing. Samson saw them at a table as he flew by the front, thinking to himself: If they can be patrons of a café, why can’t I, also a bird?

Samson never shared this thought with Kookie and Louis – he didn’t enjoy speaking. Instead he quietly joined them at the table. They stared at him. But it was Samson’s lucky day because moments later, Kookie saw a large poster next to the community noticeboard:

‘Want to be part of The Café’s PERSONAL BRAND? Enter our photo competition to rep The Café on all its official social media pages, as well as TV ads, print magazine ads and side-of-the-bus ads. Theme: picture of you having a good time at The Café. Conditions: minimum three participants per photo.’

As Kookie read the details of the competition, Louis turned to Samson, “I’m sorry but who are you?”

Samson giggled nervously and his eyes seemed to magnify 1000x behind his round glasses. Samson looked around The Café, avoiding answering, but as Louis’ sharp eyes drilled into him, he offered, “Carrot cake is so rich in sugar and cream and butter, yes? Hehehe.”

Louis was a bit disturbed and was about to ask another question (with little hope of a coherent answer), when Kookie turned back to them and interrupted. “Don’t be silly Louis, this bird is a friend of mine. Yes I know who he is. He is a pigeon but still not too bad for a bird. He will join our photo entry.”

Louis rolled his eyes and went back to consulting his notebook. Of course Kookie had no idea who the pigeon was. But Louis couldn’t be bothered dealing with this. He had a serious meeting with the Duck the previous Saturday (to be explained soon) and there was thinking to do, work to get going.

Kookie asked a waitress for an entry form for the photo competition. She returned with the form and Kookie began to fill it out. He paused and looked up at Samson. “What’s your name? Must be three letters minimum if it is a fake name.”

Samson giggled and pointed with a wing at the left arm of his glasses. His name was written there on some masking tape.

When the waitress returned to the front counter, the head chef and boss of The Café, Rosso Rajput, took her to one side.

“What did the bird want?”

“You mean Kookie, the kookaburra?”

Rosso put a palm to his forehead. He was a generously sized man with a bald head, tufts of hair circling around from his temples. When he wore his special chef’s hat, the tufts of hair looked like decorative lining.  

“Camilla,” he said, “I don’t care if it’s a kookaburra or an owl, whatever the round ball is that always causes trouble. The one that caused a spaghetti shortage just the other week.”

“Yes, the kookaburra,” Camilla leaned in, “He wants to enter the photo competition. Can you imagine? Our ads showing a bunch of birds enjoying themselves as patrons of The Café?”

“It’s preposterous!” Rosso exclaimed. “And yet, not a bad idea. You see, my Italian side is all about the food – it’s my passion, my life. And a group of unhygienic birds eating at my establishment hurts my sensibilities. Yet, my Indian side is very entrepreneurial. I cannot deny these birds have helped my business, they eat so much. And customers flock in to see them.”

“Excellent pun sir.”

“What pun? Anyway, I think they are strong candidates for the competition.”

Camilla smiled. She was personally a fan of the birds and intended to attend a pro-birds rally.

“And yet there is another problem,” Rosso continued, frowning, “I’ve recently come to learn that Kookie is a white-collar criminal. He specialises in scams.”

Camilla nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard a lot about him. Strangely once I overheard someone say he nearly prevented the Harbour Bridge from being successfully completed. But he couldn’t possibly be that old.”

“If it’s found out that The Café is associated with a scam artist, my reputation will be ruined. So it’s an impossible equation you see between my reputation and immense profits,” Rosso pulled at his tufts of hair.

“That’s a dilemma, sir.”

“Not all is lost though, I have an idea. Get me the lost-and-found box.”

“Right away.”

As the three birds were drinking their after-meal beverages, Camilla came by their table with a camera.

“Good news!” she said. “Your entry application has been accepted. Is this a good time to take your group photo?”

Kookie agreed. Louis tried not to groan. This was bad news for his undercover operations. But if he didn’t agree, it would destroy his friendship with Kookie, one he had painfully forged for the sake of an important investigation.

Camilla handed Kookie a pair of sunglasses and a tie. “You’re going to be the star of the photo! These props will make you look like a celebrity bird patron.”

“Oooh wow!” Samson muttered.

Kookie put on the props with enthusiasm. The truth was, Rosso wanted to obscure Kookie’s identity to ensure The Café was never associated with a white-collar criminal.

Louis turned to Camilla, “Can I also have some sunglasses, please?” He realised it was the perfect way to safeguard his investigation against compromise.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Camilla said, “Only one star per photo.”

It was getting to the point where Louis was seriously questioning his career choices.

“Now 1, 2, 3!” Camilla took a snap with her camera and looked at the preview, “Oh what a great photo of such wonderful friends!”