Madagascar Penguins: The Disastrous Christmas Meal

19/12/2015

It was morning in Kuala Lumpur and the Madagascar Penguins had arranged a Christmas buffet at the Shangri-La Hotel. They had boarded the 3.50am plane on Air Penguin, which was one of King Julien’s modified Lockheed Electras. It was airborne for about sixteen hours and had arrived at about 6am (KL time). As the plane was descending, the feeling of aching in their ears due the turbulence started to grow astute.

“Errrgh, I don’t like the jiggly wiggly feeling in my ears. Private, open aft stow hatch.” Skipper commanded. “Oh, and make sure it’s got the number D42251960322 on it. It has all our snacks and condiments,” he added. So, Private took a commando leap onto the handle. His flipper fumbled uneasily before it actually swung open. Rico had propped up a ladder under the door so that it wouldn’t swing in and squash Private to pulp.

“Carson’s Super Jelly Creamies, Zippitoon Citrus Squeeze Pulp Sweets, ah ha! Alfie’s Super Ear Care Turbulence Ache Balls: Pop One Kernel into Your Mouth and Gargle with Cold Water for 50 seconds,” Private mumbled, scanning the snack pack. He got four out, tossed them to his mates, and poured a large glass beaker of water down their gaping beats. The sounds of gargling ran through the cockpit. The colour of scarlet macaws, peacocks, pheasants and cockatoos, it emitted a putrid scent that wafted through the aircraft atmosphere. Eventually, the plane found its wheels at Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Skipper swiftly maneuvered in the left direction before turning onto the correct runway and landing with a jerk at the main terminal. After exiting, they went to the message board.

“The Concorde with Alex, Marty, Gloria and Melman from Heathrow is arriving at 8.30 am. Then, the Airbus A380 carrying Marlene, Phil, Mason, King Julien, Maurice and Mort is going to be delayed for two hours due to a minor airplane malfunction. It’s got to perform an emergency stop at Abu Dhabi International Airport, go to Dubai to get more fuel and continue the journey in another Airbus A380 to Kuala Lumpur. It’s possibly only arriving at 9.30am or so, but it wouldn’t arrive late as the plane departed at 12am and they don’t have to dump much fuel.” Skipper remarked.

“Have you booked any hotel for us to stay for two nights?” asked Kowalski. “Yeah, we need accommodation.” Private said. “I’ve booked a bed-and-breakfast at Putrajaya. It’s economical, and extremely well-equipped. It’s a kampong-style house on stilts that located on a farm. According to HHR 9.0.2, the new software for HHR, the renowned hotel, hostel and resort booking application, the architect has combined traditional Malay culture with high-tech objects to create a wonderful feeling resort. I built a special car, but it’s on the Airbus A340-300E Malaysia Transport Liner airplane. It’s transiting at Dubai to refuel,” Skipper comforted.

A few hours later, the car had arrived and everybody was at the terminal. Skipper honked the horns. Slowly, very slowly, the vehicle drove out of the terminal. It was actually a Mercedes S350 designed to look very trendy and luxurious, and was “too classic to be cliché”. It scored a lot of attention as it headed for the bed-and-breakfast.

“You know, Alex, I’m rather anxious to know where our accommodation is.” Gloria stated. “Perhaps it could be a hotel themed on all types of meat in the world, with succulent gravy-cooked steak every night for dinner,” Alex thought. “Crack-a-lackin’ly impossible. It must be a city-central convenience area, just one hundred and fifty yards away from any famous landmark and with department stores, train stations and office buildings here, there and everywhere,” Marty interrupted. “Or maybe it could be a medical-themed hotel, with treatments for my neck. I’d better get a vaccination- I think I have chicken pox. Or maybe measles. Or maybe rashes. Or maybe eczema. Or maybe allergies,” Melman said.

“You’ve had five vaccinations this year. I wish it could be a posh island paradise hotel where I can sip a glass of chilled something, frolic in the something sea, sunbathe on the something sand, and have somebody call me up to the something when some meal is ready,” Gloria remarked. “If that’s the case, I’ll ask Skipper for posh resorts around Kuala Lumpur,” Alex said. So, Alex went to the front and called on Skipper. “Excuse me, can you activate your map to search for posh resorts around Kuala Lumpur?” he asked. “It’s not economical. Besides, we have made reservations for everybody with 55% discount. Our treats,” Skipper replied.

As Alex trudged back to his seat, Marty asked for results. “What did Skipper say?” he asked. “Bad news, the penguins have already made reservations,” Alex, who was sulking, admitted. “Chin up, Alex. What if they had booked us somewhere good?” Gloria questioned, surprisingly still cheerful. Just then, the multimedia system sent a notification that they were approaching their destination. “We’re going to find out now,” Alex said.

As the animals entered their room, Alex, Marty, Melman and Gloria weren’t so high-spirited anymore. “Maybe you were…right,” Marty faltered. “This doesn’t live up to any of our expectations,” Gloria commented. Just then, the penguins had set up a tripod and an elaborate video camera. “Shall I press the recording button and let the shutter release?” Kowalski asked. “Go ahead! Let the lens jump into the world of Skipper Skips,” Skipper answered. So, Kowalski clicked the shutter button.

“Hello, and welcome to Skipper’s Hotel Feud! Today, we are in a bed-and-breakfast themed on the traditional Malay kampung. Let us tour the hotel room. On the right corner we find a four-poster bed with a white shawl draped over the top. Very chic! We have two more futons: one close to the four-poster bed and one adjacent to the other futon. Simple and easy communication guaranteed. Bookshelves line the walls, choking with excessive amounts of traditional Malay novels. Here I am, holding “Sang Kancil dan Buaya”. Ha ha! Very good, designers. We have the lavatory and tap hidden behind this shawl. It doesn’t look very sanitary and hygienic, but we’ll make efforts to clean up. Lastly, down these steps we have the shower cubicles, each with a water heater and dustbin. But cubicle 492 isn’t a shower room, it’s a workroom! It’s rather useful but probably the worst part here as you have to install a computer and desk on your own. The workroom in this hotel room isn’t very frequently used, assuming from the dust and the omnipresent mosquitoes. Now, Skipper’s Hotel Feud shall take a break,” Skipper said. And so, Kowalski clicked the STOP button and the shutter stopped recording. He went to detach the camera from the tripod, fold it up, pack it in, and take a leisurely nap in one of the futons. Alex, Marty, Melman and Gloria slept on the ground with everybody else except for King Julien, Maurice and Mort, who occupied all the space on the four-poster bed. 

Right now, we shall fast-forward to the day the vacationers went to the Shangri-La hotel to have their leisurely lunch, deemed as “High Tea” which Skipper made the booking. King Julien, Maurice and Mort had left earlier than everybody else, as they had their own vehicle which they called the “Lemurliner I”. It was like the car in the show “Minions” that was driven by the spy Gru, but it didn’t have rocket blasters sticking like satellite aerials from the top, so it wasn’t a speed vehicle. But it was going at about 34 km an hour, and King Julien was enjoying it thoroughly.

“Maurice, I am having a whale of a time! Full speed ahead!” he commanded, bouncing on the round bench he was sitting on. The bench was propped up against a bouquet of numerous flowers with streamers. “I’m trying, Your Majesty, but there has been bad rain this morning and I can’t see what’s on the mirror,” Maurice complained. “Try using the weather ultra-clear goggle-lenses. I bet on you by two thousand ringgit, it won’t disappoint,” King Julien suggested. So, Maurice unmeasured his hand from the steering wheel, and went to the glove compartment to get the goggles. Unfortunately, he didn’t take control of the steering wheel, so Mort had hopped on and did some really silly things. He rammed the monstrosity into two thousand, six hundred and twenty-four cars and the number was gaining by the minute. “Maurice, don’t you love going slap-bam into every single vehicle going in your way?” asked King Julien. “As a rule, no, and this event is particularly distressing with Mort hanging onto the steering wheel. I’m going to fetch a crowbar,” Maurice sighed, opening up the ceiling toolbox that was stowed away in the roof. Mort was contented to be left alone to ram into cars to his heart’s content.

A few minutes later, Maurice came back, swinging the crowbar to and fro. The crowbar that Maurice and King Julien made was actually called a “mortbar”, and was for grabbing Mort off the steering wheel. Maurice hooked the mini cherry plucker (or the cherry-berry plucker-mc’sucker, as King Julien loved to call it) onto Mort’s bushy tail. Then he tugged and accidentally tore the skin shaft off Mort’s tail. Thankfully, King Julien had applied two antiseptics (or antimortspectaclemaptics, as he loved to call it) onto Mort’s tail shaft. One was named Vinyl Antiseptic. It reads ‘To prevent shaft sickness, bushy bronchitis and tailpain on Mouse Lemur tails. Hold 1-3 centimetres away from tail and apply with ring finger. King Julien didn’t have the foggiest idea what ring finger was. But every time he applied the antiseptic, it did Mort a power of good. The next antiseptic was simply called Aerosol Mouse Lemur. It allowed the tail shaft to grow back after being pulled off a mouse lemur’s tail. The tail shaft started to grow back instantly, and in half an hour the procedure was complete.

Back at the bed-and-breakfast, everybody had left in the Mercedes to Kuala Lumpur. They were so cheerful that little did they know they were halfway there to Shangri-La Hotel. “I hope we get served raw sirloins served with a few bits of mutton shavings and venison,” Alex said. “I hope what we get served is hay cooked in the New Yorker style. Crack-a-lackin’ly delectable!” Marty added. “I hope all we get served is one hundred tablets to help me shake off the stupid neck pox,” Melman said. Marty and Alex shrugged. “All your ideas are too cliché. I’ll take the trendy route with moist grass served with lashings of watercress,” Gloria remarked, in a trendy way. “We’re going to find out,” Alex said.

At 11.30am, the Lemurliner had arrived at Shangri-La Hotel. There was first a short pause. Then a row of Italian leather seats, each with a steering wheel and controls provided on a table upfront with a footrest for King Julien, rolled out from a hatch that was just one door away from the trunk. It went into the lift and was ferried up to Level 1. When it arrived, King Julien, Maurice and Mort took some time to marvel the Christmas decoration at the hotel lobby. King Julien found a bunch of bouquets and just lay back to watch Maurice leap from the goliath fountain and Mort hop from level to level and revel around the Christmas tree. Just then, King Julien cocked an ear to the hotel atmosphere. The sense that the penguins and everybody else were approaching protruded his senses. He notified his mates. Then they got into their chairs and sped away to the Farmers Market. “Full speed ahead, Maurice!” ordered King Julien. “I’m trying, Your Majesty, but 59 miles an hour is about as fast as we can go!” complained Maurice. “We need more power. Time to get Mort to fire up the “nucuspeedolar” reactor,” King Julien ordered. “Is it something like a nuclear reactor that makes your car go on a speed faster than a lightning bolt?” Maurice asked. “Not as fast as a lightning bolt, but it does make your car go speedy. Bear with me, it takes about forty seconds to fire it up and get the punch and muscle in the fuselage,” King Julien answered. “What can I do to make the nucuspeedolar reactor ignite the spark at a quicker pace?” Maurice questioned. “Nothing you can do to make the reactor go faster, but I suppose you could speed it up. Also, try to calibrate the movement of the Livestock Net,” King Julien replied.

Meanwhile, the penguins and everybody else had arrived. “You know what, Kowalski, I think we should detour and break in through the roof,” Skipper suggested. “Funnily enough, Skipper, I’d knew you’d suggest that. So I sketched a blueprint to help us. I call it: “The Consequences and Methods Of Various Penguiner Commando Philosophies Of Breaking Through Concrete Surfaces And Roofs,” Kowalski announced. “Lovely title. Scroll them out,” Skipper ordered. “Alright. Rule one: chimney trouble. In tropical nations, chimneys are as rare as hen’s teeth. So, we construct our own chimney. Rule Two: the gap. Gaps are critical when breaking in through a roof. Rule Three: leanness and meanness. You don’t necessarily need to be mean when breaking through a chimney, but leanness is critical. So, in that case, I shall break in first. All animals that aren’t lean, please take the elevator. And haul us up if we get stuck, though I think consequences of getting stuck are rare as we’re building a wide-hole chimney,” Kowalski instructed. “Do you have bricks?” Skipper asked. “I have a thousand of them. I stole them from Julien’s Lemurliner I,” Kowalski answered. “Alright, we shall take the elevator in pairs. Alex and Marty, Gloria and Melman. Melman, make sure you crouch down when entering to prevent smashing the wires. And Gloria, if you get stuck, it is Melman’s responsibility to hold the lift door open and get you into the lift,” Skipper commanded. “Agreed, captain!” saluted Gloria and Melman.

Ten minutes later, there was an unknown sound of screaming in the chimney. Then, Kowalski, who was the slimmest of penguins, dropped out of the chimney like a twig dropping down a dead tree. Next came Rico. Then Skipper, Private, Phil, Mason, Marlene, Mort, King Julien. And the last animal down the chute was King Julien’s trustworthy aye-aye Maurice. The animals found themselves tangled about awkwardly. They slowly rose like a flower blossoming in early spring to their feet. When all the elevators carrying Alex, Melman, Marty and Gloria arrived, they got to the restaurant, except King Julien, who was waiting for the porter to send his vehicle in. Finally, the transporter yanked King Julien inside. Maurice drove him and Mort to the restaurant. At the reception area, King Julien beckoned to the lady in a feminine manner. “Bonjour! I shall pledge my friendship to introduce that I am, King Julien VII of Madagascar. My sole ruling area is Lemur Beach, off the coast of Antanarivo. Shall I just come in and enjoy a hearty lunch?” asked King Julien. “Uh, what is your table number?” asked the lady, looking sternly. “Thirty-fourteen, sixteen, and three-eleven,” King Julien answered. “Uh, OK, enjoy your lunch,” the lady answered. So, King Julien went for a cruise-around the restaurant area. Just then, the penguins came to his chair.

“King Julien, try to improve your modesty.” Skipper told him. “Modesty? Well, I am the king, and for generations and generations, no king in any dynasty, era or Madagascar empire has ever been modest. I am one of the kings of the Lolo dynasty, who are one of the most arrogant dynasties. So, I inhibit modesty, and have rights to tell people anything about my personal life,” King Julien protested. “If you truly inhibit modesty, I shall press this button,” Skipper warned.

“Wait, no! That’s the nucuspeedolar reactor button!” King Julien shrieked, in horror. But it was too late. The elite commando force leader had hit flipper on the button. The vehicle’s back opened up, and a large airplane engine developed, hanging on a curved wire. Then, it opened up, and about five or six smaller ones came up. Then, a large Roman Candle appeared, with a grenade on the wick. A countdown was displayed before the fuse exploded. When it did, the two-way ignition zither malfunctioned temporarily, and the vehicle was zooming off at top speed. The flames were blazing yellow, and Skipper referred this new colour as “Roast Human”.

“Do the effects wear off?” hollered Kowalski. “Yes they dooooooo!” shrieked King Julien. His vehicle flew off into the koi fish pond as if the exhaust had been catapulted by a red-hot poker clogged in its system. It smashed the doors and splashed into the koi pond. King Julien was starting to rant curses at the flourishing Skipper. “Now that we’ve finished Operation: Julienboot, who wants to have some seafood?” asked Skipper. All the penguins raised up their flippers. “Help yourself!” cheered Skipper. So, the penguins grabbed plates and started loading them up with oysters, crayfish, octopus and sushi.

Meanwhile, in King Julien’s chair vehicle, the fuselage was half full with water and King Julien was up to his neck in water. He was bobbing up and down like a cork helplessly. “Maurice! Get me some packed lunch!” he ranted, at the top of his lungs. “I’m sorry, the lunch barrels are right underneath the pond. I detest going underwater, and I am seriously not going to retrieve it for you,” Maurice answered, clinging on like dead grief to a chair headrest. “Oh, fine! Since the fuselage is half full, I shall dive down and unclog it. Get me the manual!” King Julien ordered. “The manual is underwater,” Maurice hollered. “Then I shall just dive down, get the manual, unclog the fuselage and have lunch. Maurice, you talk Mort through the whole process,” King Julien remarked. “Agreed, Your Majesty.” Maurice saluted.

In the main restaurant building, Alex had got a quarter of a roast turkey with almond stuffing. Gloria took a large plate of basil vinaigrette salad, Melman had tried some Indian curry masala and Marty had consumed some satay. “I’m on a strict diet,” Gloria stated, crunching on some red cabbage in her basil vinaigrette salad. “I’ve decided to break out and eat the crack-a-lackin extremes!” exclaimed Marty. “Wonder how King Julien’s doing outside. Also wonder what the penguins are doing,” Alex said.

Meanwhile, the penguins were using Skipper’s crazy Seafooder to separate oyster meat from the shell using its multi-ladle, crack crayfish shell using its robust hammer, chop octopus using its quick-cut knife and unravel seaweed from sushi using its “unraveller”. “Meals couldn’t be much better, huh?” Skipper asked. “Is this gizmo a perpetual machine?” asked Kowalski. “Most likely, I’ll say it runs for about 23 and a half hours before it needs to be charged, so no, it is not a perpetual motion machine,” Skipper answered.

At the koi pond, King Julien had dived down to unclog the fuselage. When he had found it, he opened the main shell. A gush of water spewed out from the microscopic hole. “I found the main water source!” he cheered. “Where was it? The water’s draining!” Maurice exclaimed. “In the main shell. It opened when we crashed in the pond and sucked in this mini tempest of water,” King Julien answered. And he was right. The chairs, within only fifteen to twenty seconds, had drained two feet down. The koi pond was surprisingly deep because of the constant monsoons. Just then, a downpour came into full swing. “Uh oh. Check if the main shell has opened,” Maurice ordered. “I’m sure I closed and latched the main shell opening, but both the propellers are short circuit and the main power chair line is destroyed. I’ll have to reconnect to a new power source and repair the propellers,” King Julien said. Then, he stared at the downpour droplets. “Which will take a while,” he added, before diving back in again.

Back inside, the penguins and Marlene had finished eating. They went to tidy up before heading out to the garden where the koi pond was located. There, just right in the middle, was the stranded bundle of chairs. “Where is King Julien?” asked Marlene. “He’s committing suicide!” blurted Mort. “Shut up, Mort, he is not committing suicide. He dived down to repair the propellers and change the main power source,” Maurice snapped. But just as he had said it, there was a catastrophe. An explosion occurred in the power source. The multimedia screen went into a blackout, and wires and all sorts of debris. Then, the vehicle started to sink. King Julien soon went onto safe ground again. He was, fortunately, not badly injured but his fur was scarred and had turned rough. As rough as sandpaper, in fact. The chair was sinking deeply. King Julien decided to just stand on the seat and let the water turn his feathers as soft as silk. “OK, now he really is committing suicide,” Mort remarked. “And now I concur with you, Mort,” Maurice stated. “I’m using traditional water therapy to un-scar my fur. It is going to change to a lovely velvet hue and turn as soft as a Shih-Tzu’s fur if I just soak myself for longer!” King Julien stated.

Meanwhile, the penguins were inside the building. “Oh no, I think we had better set up a rescue mission,” said Skipper. “OK. I suggest let’s commit our lives to rescuing the King of Madagascar Lemurs!” Alex suggested. “I’ve got rope, armbands, a first aid kit, a mobile phone, food and water, and a handyman’s kit. Perfecto!” Kowalski remarked. “OK, let’s set off!” Skipper commanded.

At the garden, Skipper called Kowalski for rope. He unravelled it and, with armbands on (being a semi-pro swimmer, he didn’t need armbands but Kowalski still insisted him to wear them), he attached it to the tow hole. Then, he ordered everybody else to tug on the rope. With everybody tugging each other, it seemed like the scene in The Old Man and The Turnip where everybody was pulling and shoving to yank the giant turnip out of its roots. Skipper didn’t come up to land to guide them, he stayed underwater. But the water was highly transparent, so Skipper’s reflection illuminated through the crystal clear liquid. Finally, the vehicle was yanked inside with King Julien as well. When it was on dry land, Skipper asked Maurice some questions. “Is the vehicle still OK?” he questioned. “I’m afraid not, it’s become totally useless since the power line exploded. You’ll have to get some sort of vehicle, jump-start the chairs and pull us back,” Maurice sighed.

“Hakuna matata, Maurice, because my rescue kit can turn into a fully-functional tow truck!” Kowalski exclaimed. “No way!” Maurice cried, with excitement. A few minutes later, Kowalski had turned the kit into a vehicle. He pulled all the kit up, just in case he needed it later. Cautiously, very cautiously, he cruised the chairs out of the garden and into the car park where the Lemurliner I waited. He closed up the kit compartment and reversed the vehicle into the Lemurliner I. Then, he transformed the kit back into its normal size, and got into the Mercedes. The Lemurliner I cruised slowly away.

The next morning, on the 7.30 am Lockheed Electra back to the John F. Kennedy International Airport, the penguins were talking about the hectic experience the day before. “Whew, I’m so stressed out,” Private remarked. “Nevertheless, I think this is still a memorable experience,” Skipper stated, reclining back in his comfy seat.

The end.   

Written by Koh Chee Yuan