Story Competition - Emporeo and Adeliet

It was one of the most critical events in the year of 1751, in Vostok, Antarctica. The Prince had arranged an annual conference to be held at his grandiose hall. Members from the two richest penguin families in Vostok, the Emportagues and the Adepulets, had flocked to the Prince’s hall to attend the conference. And this is where the story started.

In the early morning, a few hours before the meeting, two adolescents from the Emportague family, Emporeo and Krillvolio, were out waddling in the avenues of Vostok. 

“Krillvolio, have you heard today is the day that Prince Troutalus’s conference is going to be held? We must head back to the Emportague mansion and don our formal robes and tuxedos so that we’re ready before schedule!” Emporeo suggested.

“Hmm, yeah, you’ve got a point, Emporeo, it’s nearly half past eight.” Krillvolio remarked, staring at the gothic red-brick clock tower housed in the nearby cathedral. So, Emporeo and Krillvolio headed back and began changing for the special occasion.

Later, Emporeo and Krillvolio arrived just in time for the banquet at the humongous hall. Waitresses with neck frills and ballroom dresses adorned with roses and ivy charms around their frills sashayed into the dining room, carrying mouth-watering entrees including their signature prawn cocktail and creamy clam chowders. Krillvolio decided to treat himself to a little morsel of food but Emporeo decided to wait for the ladies to come waddling into the hall.

At half past ten, the males proceeded up the marble-tiled steps towards the colossal auditorium. The ladies followed suit and sat behind the males, and it was not long before the meeting was called into order by a blaring and honking of trumpets. The held-high-in-esteem Prince Troutalus, dressed in a fancy feathered chapeau, boldly sashayed onto stage and prepared his notes. Just then, something caught Emporeo’s eagle eye.

He had spotted a gorgeous female penguin sitting down the row and he immediately set his eye on her. Emporeo fervently hoped that the conference could end soon so that he could flirt and flatter with his new-found love and maybe arrange a meal with her at the Vostok Krillpub, which was just half an hour away from the Emportague mansion. However, he had one doubt. She was an Adelie penguin, which meant she belonged to the Adepulet family. The Adepulet family had always been at loggerheads with the Emportague family, and that made the market a violent landmark to visit. Every now and then, there would be an unsuspecting battle at the market between the Emportagues and the Adepulets, using pieces of scrap seafood that were cluttered here, there and everywhere. Nevertheless, he was still grateful that the conference was only one and a half hours, and he seized the chance to have a little penguin chat to the most attractive female penguin in the hall. 

“Hello, my gorgeous! You look fabulous in this outfit. Could I have the honour to treat you to a fancy dinner down at the Vostok Krillpub?” Emporeo asked politely, in the most professed sweet-talk he could manage.

“I would love to, but I’m an Adepulet and you’re an Emportague. Are you sure Old Emportague would approve? My name is Adeliet, by the way.” Asked the Adelie, in a charming feminine voice.

“Oh, sure he will. We’ll dine in secret, to be on the safe side.” Emporeo answered.

That night, Emporeo moved some of the potted plants around to create a fort. For extra privacy, he installed some black opaque sheets around the plants and purchased a humongous vertical wooden door between two of the potted plants for entry. Everything went well until Emporeo’s friend, Clamcutio, took an evening waddle around town and saw the shelter. Clamcutio smelt a rat and hurried to the Emportague mansion to tell the Old Emportague.  

“What? My son, Emporeo, dining with an Adepulet? I trusted him not to do so! He should be ashamed of himself! Clamcutio, thank you for telling me. You can come with me to the krillpub to deal with it.” Snapped the Old Emportague. Immediately after that, the Old Emportague and Clamcutio furiously stomped off in the chilling evening blizzard to the Vostok Krillpub. Just then, when the Old Emportague entered through the front door, another door popped up. The Old Emportague opened that one, only to find another one. He opened that one too, just to find yet another. The whole saga happened for about two minutes before the Old Emportague could enter. Old Emportague then snatched the golden key used for the wooden door and unlocked it. He was obviously furious when he saw what lay beneath the doors.  

“EMPOREO EMPORTAGUE! You have brought a great disgrace to the Emportagues by dining with an Adepulet, whom you know we have been rivalling with for years, yet you still breach the rules. As punishment, you shall be punished to 12 months of house arrest. Now, head back to the Emportague mansion this instance!” he snapped.  

“But, father…” Emporeo started.  

“No buts or what ifs! Head back this instance, or there’ll be trouble,” ordered the Old Emportague. Reluctantly, Emporeo sulkily headed back to the Emportague mansion and to his room.  

Later in the night at about eleven , Krillvolio had returned from a shopping spree at the apparel store and decided to visit Emporeo.  

“Why are you home so early? You usually stay up to midnight or even dawn at the nightclubs on weekends.” He queried. 

“It’s ridiculous the Old Emportague and his laws to the blame,” shrugged Emporeo.  

“He found you dining with Adeliet and sent you back early, right?” questioned Krillvolio.  

“Worse than that, he sentenced me to house arrest for twelve months!” cried Emporeo.

“What?” shrieked Krillvolio, his eyes bulging wide and his pupils enlarged.  

“He sentenced me to house arrest for twelve months!” cried Emporeo, louder still.  

“Emporeo, this is simply unfair! He has no right to sentence you when he knows you’re perfectly innocent! Come, come to my room. I shall explain my crafty but quick plan for you to meet Adeliet again,” Krillvolio said. So, Emporeo strolled across the corridor to Krillvolio’s room and then Krillvolio started their murmuring, whispering conversation.  

The next morning, the Old Emportague was awoken by a mob of Emportagues from the palace. Emporeo was attending. So was Krillvolio and Clamcutio, who had donned a very crafty disguise from the apparel shop. Adeliet was there too, and all of the 536 other penguins who lived in the colossal palace were out on the field, holding up colourful signs that screamed their point of contention, which was Emporeo’s ridiculous ban.  

“I knew I should have voiced out my punishment differently,” sighed the Old Emportague. He changed into his normal garments and ate a slice of pumpernickel bread, since he was a bit hasty that morning. Then, he opened the door out of the mansion and headed out to the field. To his horror, a humongous sign supported by sticks that were rooted in the earth and stuck to the sign using slabs of cement was mounted right before his eyes.  

“Oh, Krillvolio is definitely not going to be the next alpha Emportague. I’ll show him!” thought the Old Emportague, gritting his teeth. Emporeo had donned protective steel armour and was armed with a lance and a shield. The Old Emportague had almost no protection and no weapons, so the chances of him winning was just as likely as the chances of the Emportagues and the Adepulets agreeing to stop their incessant fighting. Thankfully, there was a basket of lances near to the fence, so the Old Emportague got the longest, sharpest one and prepared for the battle. Not long after, the cathedral clock struck eight. The duel was to start. Krillvolio charged forwards towards the Old Emportague, but the Old Emportague fought back with his lance and sent a heavy blow towards Krillvolio’s shield. However, the Old Emportague’s lance was considered blunt towards Krillvolio’s. Krillvolio managed to slice off a bit of his father’s lance, and that was when the climax began. Krillvolio and the Old Emportague did their final charge, and Krillvolio struck the Old Emportague in the heart!  

Everybody gasped. Everybody gaped. The grandiose Old Emportague had been the delight of all cognoscenti for years and was ranked as a mighty monarch, but he was no match to even his second-born son, Krillvolio. Krillvolio had defeated him, and was declared the new leader. Since Krillvolio was still in his late adolescents, he was titled “Young Emportague” and the first thing he did as Young Emportague was to lift the ban off Emporeo.  

But that was not the ending. Adeliet’s infamous, fame-craving cousin brother, Crabbalt, heard about the love affair that made his blood boil. Why? Because he was actually the guy that had proposed a marriage to Adeliet first, so he deserved to marry her, even if Emporeo loved Adeliet more than he did. He went down the street to the Monastery, which was just half an hour down from the Adepulet mansion. Friar Klam {the friar of Vostok} was reciting hymns, and Crabbalt’s timing was just right, he arrived when Friar Klam had just finished reciting the last sentence of the 536 hymns he had to perform for prayers in the afternoon.  

“Friar Klam, you know about Emporeo and Adeliet, don’t you?” asked Crabbalt.  

“Of course I do. You visit me a hundred times a week, and you tell me all the stories and news that have been going on. What has happened this time?” questioned Friar Klam.  

“Emporeo and Adeliet have fallen in love!” exclaimed Crabbalt.  

“And what’s wrong with that?” queried the friar, who had started tending to his pomegranate flowers in the monastery garden.  

“I was the one who was meant to be Adeliet’s husband! She promised me two years ago!” Crabbalt cried.  

“Okay, but then what do you think I could do to help?” asked Friar Klam, who had just got a bucket of water to sprinkle over his pomegranate flowers.  

“I beg you to concoct a sleeping potion that shall send Emporeo into a deep slumber for the rest of the year,” pleaded Crabbalt.  

Friar Klam flicked his head around, his attention distracted. “What did you say again?” he asked.  

“I beg you to concoct a sleeping potion that shall send Emporeo into a deep slumber for the rest of the year,” repeated Crabbalt, word by word.  

“I’m not really supposed to do this, you know. Abbott Crabstick will imprison me!” Friar Klam warned.  

“Oh, trust me,” begged Crabbalt.  

“If you say so,” sighed Friar Klam. He beckoned to Crabbalt and led him into his dormitory in the monastery. Then, he pressed a button. A tiny crawling corridor, big enough to fit Friar Klam and Crabbalt, appeared from an almost unnoticeable crack in the wall. Friar Klam and Crabbalt sprawled into the musty corridor, which was really narrow and stank of worm-eaten woodwork combined with the scent of rose water, vanilla and after-tobacco. It was a very mysterious aroma that wafted around. Finally, Crabbalt and the friar arrived at a wooden door swarming with holes that clustered around the surface. Friar Klam scrabbled around on the smooth but dusty marble floor. It was pitch black inside the crevice, and Friar Klam was as blind as a bat. Eventually, Friar Klam discovered the key- a rusty silver key attached to a golden ring. Friar Klam slotted the key in and turned it to the right. Immediately, the door rose up and crushed through the ceiling with a deafening boom, like the boom you get if you stand near a building that was just in order for demolishing. Friar Klam and Crabbalt sprawled inside. As they crawled further, the ceiling rose higher, and soon they were able to stand up again and waddle down. Finally, they stopped at a colossal room.  

“Welcome to my Potion Concoction Laboratory. I share the laboratory with my other four dormitory companions, but nobody knows what I do here in my spare time.” Friar Klam announced.  

“Exciting and very intriguing. What are you going to use to concoct a sleeping potion?” asked Crabbalt.  

“I’ll need 200 grams of pomegranate flower petals, 3 pieces of saffron soaked in crab brandy, half a flask of rose water, a quarter of crushed jasmine powder, a tablespoon of fish oil, a teaspoon of cod liver, one litre of Emporeo’s favourite liquor, and one litre of your favourite liquor,” replied Friar Klam.  

“Are you sure you’ve got them all?” questioned Crabbalt.  

“Of course” snapped Friar Klam. “Except the rose water. But I do have a flask of sludge water inside the cupboard, and you could boil eight withered rose petals in the sludge water to make rose water,” he added.  

“Sludge water?” asked Crabbalt, screwing up his face.  

“Yes. What did you expect?” snapped Friar Klam.  

Crabbalt was unsure of Friar Klam’s words, but he decided to play along with his game. He poured some sludge water into a wooden saucepan, poked the fire, suspended the saucepan over the fire, and poked the fire again for good measure. Then, he headed outside, found some withered rose petals, collected them and threw them into the boiling sludge water. The liquid fizzled and popped, sizzled and pooped, and at a few intervals it began to display a slight reddish hue. Finally, when Crabbalt thought he might have to wait for another three weeks for it to finish, there was a loud BANG! The rose water was finished. Crabbalt allowed it to simmer down for ten minutes, then he carefully poured the liquid into a long, narrow-headed beaker and strained it into the saucepan that Friar Klam was using. Just then, Friar Klam sniffed expertly at the liquid.  

“It needs a bit of ground sage,” he mumbled to himself. He ambled to the spice cupboard and took out the ground sage. He poured half a beaker in. Almost immediately after that, there was a slight sizzling noise and a loud crackling noise.  

“That’s not good, is it?” asked Crabbalt.  

“No, it’s just telling you that you need to pour in the liquor. Your favourite drink is oyster cognac, right?” asked Friar Klam.  

“Right. And Emporeo’s favourite is crab brandy,” answered Crabbalt. So, Friar Klam leapt onto one of the desks and climbed out of the window. Balancing tentatively, he ambled up onto the roof and opened up a hatch. It was the cellar, which contained all the liquors and tipples that Friar Klam needed for his experiments. Friar Klam received a bottle of oyster cognac and a flask of crab brandy and clambered back inside, just in time to add the two tantalising tipples.  

“Right. You’d better take cover after this!” ordered Friar Klam. They both hid underneath the desk. Immediately, the pan flew up in the sky, did a pirouette, and landed back on the stove with an abrupt clatter. Then there was a momentary silence. Then finally, a humongous BANG! BOOM! BANG! echoed in the laboratory. Friar Klam and Crabbalt arose. Immediately, the first thing they saw was a red rock in the centre of the saucepan. Friar Klam got a hammer and whacked it open without warning. The first two blows were unsuccessful. But Friar Klam then rose the hammer up to his shoulder and applied such a heavy blow to the rock that it split open. A purplish-green liquid oozed out.  

“This, Crabbalt, is my monastery sleeping potion. Now, all I have to do is get an empty flask of crab brandy and sieve the liquid inside. I’ll dress as a lady from the apparel shop, and you’ll be my assistant.” Friar Klam said. So, Crabbalt and Friar Klam put on their costumes, and the duo pretended to hobble down the street.  

Twenty minutes later, the delivery had arrived. The doorbell ding-donged continuously until Emporeo, who was a bit annoyed from the irritating sound, opened the door. “Crab brandy for 15 gold coins only! Special offer from the apparel shop!” said Friar Klam in a hoarse voice. Emporeo, being very keen on crab brandy, opened his wallet, gave out 15 gold coins, and went to store the crab brandy in the cellar.  

“He isn’t drinking it!” whispered Crabbalt.  

“Don’t worry. Sooner or later he’ll decide to take a quick nip of our sleeping potion,” chuckled Friar Klam.  

That night, Emporeo woke up at two in the morning feeling somewhat dehydrated. He unlocked the door to the cellar and took the fake crab brandy down by chance. He glugged it down, and put it back and went back to sleep. Just then, he felt a sudden pang in his webbed foot. Immediately, he plonked back down on the stairs. The next day, the Old Emportague woke up early for a meeting and found his son sprawling on the staircase.  

“Oh no! This can’t be…” he faltered. Without saying a word, the Old Emportague scampered back upstairs and informed his wife, Mistress Emportague. Not long after, the doctor was sent all the way from an unnamed town some 380 kilometres away from Vostok.  

The doctor inspected Emporeo’s condition using a tongue depressor, a stethoscope, and a cattle prod. “I’ve inspected Emporeo’s condition, and I believe he’s in a coma.” The doctor remarked.  

“Is it serious?” questioned Mistress Emportague.  

“Yes, very serious. My analysis shows that he’ll be in a deep sleep for about a month. He must have drugged himself with a sleeping potion.” The doctor answered.  

Everybody gasped. They knew Emporeo was sensible enough to know better than not to drug himself with sleeping potion. So why would he do this suddenly?  

The news spread far and wide. Eventually, it reached when a messenger brought Adeliet the news.  

“This can’t be! This is simply shocking! I’ll swim over to Vostok to persuade Friar Klam to make an antidote. Then I’ll cure Emporeo, and the Old Adepulet will be convinced enough that I can marry Emporeo.” Adeliet thought to herself. Immediately, she went downstairs, where her parents were having an oyster and crab fry for breakfast. She crept past them and headed down the stairs. In front of her sat the majestic and icy river that connected her town to Vostok. She dived in and began swimming gracefully towards Vostok. The distance shortened considerably as she accelerated through the crystal clear water. Finally, she reached land and clambered out. Even though it was early morning, Vostok was still in full swing. She scampered through the clacking of the wagons owned by the sellers of the market, who were heading to the wet market to barter and sell. However, when she got to the Emportague mansion, somebody else was there.  

It was Crabbalt!  

“Crabbalt, please give me the antidote,” she begged.  

“Tough,” rebutted Crabbalt.  

“Crabbalt, I’m sorry I fell in love with Emporeo. I promise that I’ll never fall head over heels with anybody else again except you. Please give me the antidote.” Adeliet pleaded. Left with no choice, Crabbalt handed over a miniscule bottle filled with golden-yellow liquid. Adeliet rushed into the mansion, where she found Emporeo spread-eagled on the stairs. She gently opened Emporeo’s beak using a spoon, then she poured the liquid down his throat. Almost immediately after that, Emporeo arose from his slumber.  

“Where am I?” he asked, scratching his head.  

“I’ll come back to that later. For now, Emporeo, I have something to tell you.” Adeliet replied.  

“Tell me now.” Emporeo said.  

“I am very sorry, my dear Emporeo, and I ask for your forgiveness. But I cannot marry you, since I have promised Crabbalt that I will marry him to give me the antidote to revive you from your sleeping spell. Goodbye, Emporeo, I shall see you some other day.” Adeliet said. Then, she plunged into the river and swam back to the shore on the other side of the river without uttering a word. Emporeo rushed out to try and stop her, but it was too late. She had arrived back at her family’s mansion, the Adepulet mansion, and went straight to the dining room to have breakfast.  

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and Emporeo wondered if he would ever have another chance of reuniting with his dearest love. Just then, one day as he was moping in his mansion, he heard a deafening shrill shriek from across the river! He drew the curtains and was dumbfounded by the sight that loomed like death before his gaping eyes.  

It was Adeliet and she had been captured by the Derkiners, an obnoxious, injurious, and very tenacious band of cutthroat pirate skuas that threatened to launch surprise attacks without warning. They had the audacity to attack and execute and no penguin was safe from their abductions.  

Emporeo realised that this was his chance to show his true colours, the colours of courage. The only problem was how to swing into the vessel before the Derkiners were too far from shore. Just then, an idea channelled into his cerebellum. He remembered the old swinging rope mounted on one side of the mansion that he used to love to frolic around with every day when he returned home from his crèche as a youth. He held on, pulled back and swung like the Monkey King onto the vessel of the Derkiners. He landed with a thump on the main deck, causing their captain, Captain Catcher, and his crew, Greta-Ceous Tenacious, Molly Audacity and Dave Brave to turn their heads and stare.  

“I’m Emporeo from the Emportague family of Vostok, and I’m here to rescue my beloved Adeliet from you brainless buccaneers!” he ordered, raising his dagger.  

“Brainless? Boys, launch the cannonballs! And fight back with your cutlass swords!” ordered Captain Catcher. Immediately, all of Captain Catcher’s crew launched a speeding torrent and a merciless barricade of flying cannonballs. However, Emporeo’s strong dagger fended them away and knocked them into the river. Eventually, the skuas decided that cannonballs were of no use and began lashing their swords instead. It was like a battle between Blackbeard and a rival. But eventually, Emporeo managed some good action. He stabbed all three pirates with powerful blows of his golden dagger, gleaming with victory. Just then, Captain Catcher launched a death stare at Emporeo.  

“You might have got my mates, but you’ve yet to throw me out if you want Adeliet back,” he threatened.  

Emporeo knew just what to do. He scrambled up to the cannonball shooter. Captain Catcher tried to stop him from laying a flipper on the button, but he was too late. Emporeo had launched a monstrosity of a cannonball onto the deck, causing water to flood in. He quickly untied Adeliet, then swam away from the submerging vessel and sent Adeliet back to the Adepulet mansion. Everybody had witnessed it, and in no time, it spread among the whole of Antarctica. One day, when Emporeo least expected it, the Old Adepulet called him over.  

“Emporeo.” He began. “At first I thought you were a noxious fool, but you saved my beloved daughter from being executed. Now, my perspective has changed of you. And, consequently, you’re now officially allowed to be married.” He praised, in a deep baritone voice.  

So, from that day onwards, Emporeo and Adeliet lived happily ever after. 

Written By,
Koh Chee Yuan
A Modern Adaptations of Romeo & Juliet 

Short Story - A Message From A Falcon

It was the climax of what they called “The War to End All Wars”, also known as World War I. A Lieutenant Colonel named Alexandre had entrusted his pet falcon, Bombardier, which served as his battle companion to deliver a message from Lisbon to Osaka. The message was critical for Alexandre’s cousin, Fernando, who was working as a spy in Japan. Bombardier spread his colossal wingspan and soared through the air garlanded with bright hue of grenades blasting, stench of dead bodies and stagnant water wafting out from the trenches. Bombardier nearly fainted after taking off. However, with his strong perseverance not letting fear overcome him, he managed to get on track. Alexandre had warned him that it was going to be a treacherous journey from Portugal to Japan, and had packed Bombardier a lightweight rucksack filled with bear necessities. The first part of the journey was full of barricades of gunshots blasting through the gruesome atmosphere. Bombardier was lacerated, but not severe enough to hinder his journey. He propelled himself forwards, well away from the deafening blasts. After getting the sights of misery behind him, he continued on a considerably smoother journey. At least not until he was soaring over Saudi Arabia with the glorious sun shining brilliantly over the sapphire sky. Bombardier desperately needed a rest after a gruellingly long flight, nevertheless, there were not many places to shelter in Saudi Arabia. The Middle East was in a more intense warfare than any other countries involved in the World War I.

After some consideration, Bombardier decided to make a stopover. Unfortunately, all hotels, motels and hostels were closed. The only solution was to snooze outside a nature reserve in the arid desert. Bombardier was awakened at dawn by a goliath gaggle of geese. Their leader told Bombardier he had to answer a riddle, otherwise they would scavenge all his belongings. The leader took out a mammoth book of riddles that had dust and cobwebs scattered all over it. He asked Bombardier this mind-boggling riddle, “Why is an old-fashioned radio like sizzling meat?” “It’s because they both have lots of crackling,” replied Bombardier. "Correctamundo!" cried the leader. Just then, that crackling noise they were talking about just burst out of nowhere. “A recording from our biennial celebration barbecue!” chuckled one of the geese.

Bombardier then hightailed off to vamoose from the geese just in case they tried to take away his belongings. The sunrays blazed down on Bombardier in the cerulean sky. Bombardier continued his journey in the scorching heat. Three days later, an exhausted Bombardier finally arrived at Fernando’s mobile home and delivered him the message from Alexandre. Bombardier didn’t know that disaster was going to strike at that moment. The Japanese military had discovered Fernando’s well-kept secret and sent their best sharpshooter, Santoshi, to kill him. Fernando escaped death by seconds but in his haste, he locked Bombardier in. Before Bombardier could escape, Santoshi’s bullet penetrated the mobile home and hit Bombardier, killing him instantly.

When Alexandre heard the news, he was absolutely devastated. The next day, Bombardier was shipped back to Lisbon for his funeral. Promptly after the solemn event, an overwhelmingly colossal statue of Bombardier carved out of exquisite marble was erected in front of the Belem Tower. For years, Portuguese remembered the heart-warming tale of the courageous Falcon that sacrificed his life, flying over considerably dangerous war zones to deliver a mission-critical message that saved Portugal from the war. From that day onwards, Bombardier was known as the first animal saint in the world. 

The End.

Written By,
Koh Chee Yuan  

An Escapade to Kota Kinabalu

On the 2^nd of April 2016, my parents and I were up with the lark to catch the morning flight to Kota Kinabalu, the capital of the state of Sabah in East Malaysia. Our aircraft, an old-fashioned Boeing B737-800, had no multimedia screen and no in-flight magazine. So we spent most of the time reading and taking power naps. Eventually, we touched down at the Kota Kinabalu International Airport. We then took a cab from the airport to our hotel, The Magellan Sutera Resort. We had a little bit of spare time before the check-in time at 2pm. So, we took another cab ride to the nearby Imago Mall, where we had a sumptuous lunch. We did a quick bout of grocery shopping at the supermarket before spending the rest of the day chilling out in the hotel room. The highlight of the day came in the evening, when we had dinner with my Year 1 teacher, Ms. Helen in a highly rated restaurant called Little Italy. The food was extremely delectable and we had a very satisfying feast.

The next morning after a hearty breakfast, we were picked up by a minivan from the Mari Mari Cultural Village. The journey took slightly more than half an hour because the village is located deep in the countryside away from the city. Upon arriving at the cultural village, we were greeted by our amiable tour guide. According to him, there are 32 tribal civilisations in Sabah but the cultural village only features the five major ethnic tribes. They are Kadazan (a.k.a. Dusun), Rungus, Lundayeh, Bajau, and the feared head-hunting Murut.  

Our tour kicked off with crossing a very rickety rope bridge that was swaying over a brook criss-crossed with boulders. Then, we headed to the Dusun longhouse. The guide showed us a hollow pit called tangkob and asked us to guess what its purpose is. Nearly everybody in the group said it was a well, but I gave the correct answer when I said it was a storage for their main crop - rice. When I entered their abode, I discovered another secret of the Dusun - making rice wine. The procedure is rather simple: firstly, they soak rice in water and leave it overnight. Then, they add yeast to the rice, pour it into a tiny container, and grind the mixture until it was no more than a paste. 


After that, they add flavouring to counteract any flat taste. If they wanted it bitter, they would add tobacco. Everyone, except me and a few other boys who were on the tour, sampled the rice wine. An American, named Calvin, loved the beverage so much he requested for a second serving. The guide told us that females would sleep on the top deck while males would sleep at the bottom. This was a precaution to prevent attacks from enemies who might try to abduct the girls, who were less defensive than the boys. After exiting the longhouse, we had the opportunity to taste some bamboo cooking delights by the Dusun. It was unexpectedly delicious and it gave me a totally new impression about Sabahan cuisine. 

Our next stop was the Rungus longhouse. Before entry, we got to sip some freshly-harvested honey by the Rungus. The most annoying thing was that black bees were hovering around and I was trying to swat them away. The honey, though, was utterly delectable. It seems like nature won over processed again, after all! Jokes aside, we entered into the longhouse. Unlike the Dusun longhouse, it was constructed on lower ground, and their staircase had only one tiny step. Once inside the longhouse, we were given a demonstration of fire-starting by two young Rungus men. It wasn’t rocket science at all - it only took the aid of 2 twigs and lots of friction. When the twigs were rigorously rubbed against each other, the friction converts into heat energy and eventually, there would be so much energy that the twigs would go ablaze. It is a Rungus custom that a woman could not be married until she knew how to start a fire, as fire was an important aspect of life for many tribes.

After the Rungus came the next tribe - the Lundayeh. When I read the brochure about this village, I only heard a sordid, grim history about the Lundayeh being excessive burak (rice wine) consumers causing them to suffer many diseases leading to their population declining dramatically from a flourishing 20,000 to a mere 3,000. Little did I know that, when I actually went to explore their habitat, it gave me a new impression of them. The Lundayeh’s name actually means “upriver people” in Malay. In fact, our guide said they actually resided near the riverbanks. One female Lundayeh and one male Lundayeh gave us a demonstration of rope and vest making. I can’t remember the instructions, but the American man tried on the garments and they fitted him like a glove. 

When we entered the longhouse of the upriver people, the first thing that greeted my eyes was a platter of food and a fire burning. Our guide revealed the most bewildering secret of the Lundayeh, they had a traditional ‘air-conditioner’. All of us were dumbfounded. Tribes weren’t supposed to have any modern features hanging about in their abodes! Our guide explained that if anybody in the house needed a breather from the tropical weather, they would open up the roof so that a cooling breeze could stream in. Lifting up the heavy roof was rather cumbersome, so it served as a good workout as well.  Like the Murut, the Lundayeh were also head-hunters but they weren’t as ferocious. After exiting the house, I was awestruck. Behind a wooden bench was a crocodile silhouette made out of grass! The Lundayeh people actually used the crocodile as a symbol of ferocity and it was a sign that they were invincible and defensive. It was necessary for them to trim their grass into the shape of a crocodile. If they didn’t, rivalling attackers would think they were puny and defeat them hollow. 

After the Lundayeh were the Bajau. Prior to entry, we were treated to a flaky dessert called kuih jala and some pandan juice served in tiny cones, which were prepared by two Bajau women. I didn’t try the pandan juice but I tasted the kuih jala and it was delicious! It looked like thin sugary strands tied together like a spider’s web to make a delectable Bajau delight. After enjoying ourselves, we entered into the longhouse. Upon entering, I saw a capacious room which was almost empty. Then, we moved into a lively and multi-coloured room where a majestic platform garlanded with assorted coloured carpets stood in a corner. The decorations were meant for weddings. Bajau’s wedding was very unique, the newlyweds were prohibited from kissing, hugging or touching. How strange!

The last tribe was the savage headhunters of Sabah - the Murut. On entry to the grounds of the Murut, one tribal man shrieked out loudly. Seeing him made me break out in goose bumps and cold sweat. What would they do to me when I entered? Thankfully, I only got touched lightly on my palm with a hair ruffle before being allowed entry onto the Murut’s soil. Phew! We got to try our hand at using a blowpipe with an arrow to shoot at a coconut shell before entry. Nearly all the men made it, but one lady picked up the blowpipe and surprisingly hit the coconut! What a sharpshooter! On entering the residence of the Murut, we found out one of their traditional pastimes. It was bouncing on a rattan trampoline that was constructed inside their house. At the top was a colourful figure that the men would try to hit by bouncing as high as possible to touch it. It beats me how they could do it without suffering muscular pains, but these men were fit as a fiddle. 

Before lunch, we were treated to a cultural show. Drums, gongs and chimes tinkled, banged and bonged at the start. Then, a troupe of Lundayeh women began to do a slightly sedate dance before a group of Murut men, armed with long, sharp spears, began to recreate a traditional dance with bold movements. Finally, two pairs of Lundayeh women laid sticks of bamboo on the stage. The Murut chief began dancing between each bamboo at an awesome speed. After the performance, audience were invited to join the bamboo dance, but at a much slower speed. Throughout the show, we were served lime juice from a tiny stall inside the amphitheatre. I have learnt so much about the culture and lifestyle of how these indigenous people of Sabah.

The following day, we headed off to Jesselton Point. My parents and I were going to embark on the 10.30 boat ride to Gaya Island. Since we had arrived well before departure time, we headed to an air-conditioned room that is for those sailing to Gayana Eco Resort. We were ushered down a metal ramp to our boat, Gayana 2. The boat simply chugged down at medium speed down the sea. A veritable experience for me since it was my first time on a boat on sea. Eventually, we docked at Gaya Island. We alighted from the boat and headed towards the Marine Ecology Research Centre (MERC). On the way, I stopped at intervals to take pictures of the crystal clear water with little fishes. 

 At one point I even saw monkeys frolicking and leaping nimbly on the netting! We passed by some chalets and a small swimming pool before arriving at MERC. A young lady named Vanessa greeted us and ushered us to the auditorium to watch two videos on marine conservation.

Then, we went to another hall where Vanessa told us about the process of coral bleaching and many other things about the ocean. Seven of the world’s eight species of Giant Clams are bred in MERC.

They are the tiny Boring Clam, the Smooth Giant Clam, the China or Porcelain Clam, the Elongated Clam, the Horse Hoof Clam or Strawberry Clam and the Scaly or Fluted Clam. According to Vanessa, the giant clams were under constant threat because of their limited defence skills. I learnt that the Boring Clam wasn’t called ‘boring’ because it was uninteresting and as dull as ditchwater, but because it could bore, which meant to drill holes.

After that was the Coral Tank. Vanessa told us that coral could be divided into two groups - hard corals and soft corals. The hard corals have shells made out of tough calcium carbonate and they have polyp tentacles in multiples of 6 while soft coral shells made out of a flexible protein called gorgonin and have polyp tentacles in the multiples of eight, hence giving them the name ‘octocorals’. Next we were briefed on the bleaching of corals. The corals have a symbiotic relationship with a type of algae called zooxanthellae. Zooxanthellae colours the coral and makes them attractive. When the global warming effect causes the zooxanthellae to seep out, the coral loses its colour and turns white. Any reef or ocean with coral is susceptible to such a phenomenon - even the Great Barrier Reef is succumbing to this effect.

The highlight of the visit was the Touch Tank, where I was allowed to touch and feel starfishes, sea cucumber, snails and crabs. I started off with touching a horseshoe crab. It was squirming around a bit, so I put it down quickly. Next, I moved on to the sea cucumbers. Their soft and slimy texture felt unappealing to me at first, but as I felt more of them, I slowly got used to it. Finally, I managed to feel a Chocolate Chip Starfish. It was bright red with brown bumps dotted all over it, giving it the name “chocolate chip”. The last attraction was the baby crabs. One was the miniscule Tridacna maxima at 16 months, and the slightly bigger Tridacna gerada at 24 months.

On the third morning, we headed to the airport and left Kota Kinabalu with a heavy heart. To some extent, I was glad to fly home because of the worsening haze in Kota Kinabalu. Some schools were closed for two days.  

Written by:
Koh Chee Yuan

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

The Old Folks

(A poem written in December 2015)

The old folks struggled through the desert thirstily,
Gasping for the emerald blue water of an oasis dreamily,
They saw an emerald blue, scampering to the location ecstatically,
And siphoned off every single bit of water pleasurably.

The old folks struggled through the Amazon unhappily,
They were swatting every insect desperately,
Then one shouted, “I’ve got it” excitedly,
Hitting all of them powerfully to store in one big bowl.

The old folks struggled through the island, being stranded sadly,
They were muttering about hunger and thirst glumly,
Then one caught a net-full of fish successfully,
And all three enjoyed their supper joyfully.

Written by:
Koh Chee Yuan

A Fabulous Trip to Perth

On the 29th of August 2014, I was up with the lark to get ready to go to KLIA. My flight to Perth departed at 9.30am and arrived on time in Perth at 3.25pm. At the Perth International Airport, we had to queue to go through the immigration. We collected our baggage and proceeded to the taxi stand. It started to drizzle when we left the airport. The taxi took us to Duxton Hotel to meet my mummy. Then the holiday began.

We had our simple dinner in the hotel room because it was raining cats and dogs. After dinner, I watched television. There were numerous channels on the television that I could not decide what to watch.

Next day, we checked out from Duxton Hotel and moved to Fraser Suites which is an apartment hotel. It was too early for us to check in, so we left our baggage and went for sightseeing. We boarded a Central Area Transit (CAT) to Harbour Town where factor outlets are located. We wanted to walk to the Science Centre but the lady at the information centre told us that it was not within walking distance. Then we took the CAT bus to the Western Australian Museum. First we went to learn about animals living in mangroves, rivers and oceans. I saw models of birds and other mangrove creatures including the ruddy turnstone, which is a bird. It was temporarily removed.  When I first saw its name I thought it is a tiny animal that looks like a little speck of dust.

Western Australian Museum at Perth

Then we proceeded to the mammal section where we saw some preserved Australian animals, including the koala, wallaby, tree kangaroo, golden pygmy marmoset, echidna and armadillo. After that, we skipped ahead to the bird section. We saw barn owls, fairy penguins and gentoo penguins. The next section we visited was on butterflies from over the world. No matter what size they were, big or small they were all displayed in cupboards. Last but not least, we then proceeded to the discovery centre. We saw a few insects including cockroaches, crickets, dragonflies, greenflies, spiders and tarantulas. An amazing fact that I learnt was that green frogs could live up to 25 to 30 years.

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Swans at Queen Garden near to hotel

The following day was a Sunday. When we arrived the bus stand, we realised that the CAT bus only starts at 9.45a. Since we have some time we went to the nearby Queen Garden. It is a beautiful garden with ponds and different types of flowers and trees. I was lost for words when I saw two black swans with their cygnets. This was the first time I have seen cygnets. Their appearance were different from their parents because they have grey soft down (fur).

After a short walk at the garden, we took a CAT bus to the Perth Underground. We wanted to take the blue CAT bus but it was temporarily out of service due to the 2014 City to surf marathon. We got trapped in a array of people who participated in the marathon. We found our way to the jetty where we boarded the Trans Perth ferry to get to Mends St Jetty. From the jetty we walked five minutes following a yellow sign saying Perth zoo on it. On the way, I met a friendly boy named Charlie who was with his sister, Emma and his grandparents.

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Sit on the Giant Tortoise

First, we saw the little blue penguin. It was very reluctant to take photos with us according to the message in Phillip Island. Whenever we took the camera out, it turned its body away. Then we went to see echidnas. Echidnas are monostremes, which mean they are mammals, which lay eggs. They have quills that are very sharp. Whenever it sees a predator, it will roll into a big, spiky ball that resembles a stinky durian. After that we went to see tired-looking kangaroos dozing in the sun with their eyes closed. Coming up was the vicious carnivore – the Tasmanian devil. Sadly there was only one in the zoo. Later we went to see an animal that is very strangely named – the quokka. It is a marsupial, herbivorous and it is a nocturnal animal. You will never ever see the quokka in any other parts of Australia except in western Australia where Perth is located. We also saw other Australian animals such as cockatoos, wombats, numbats and wallabies.

Next we went to see animals from the Asian Rainforest. The first was the sunbear that could stand on its hind legs like a human. Next sightseeing animal was Raja, Perth Zoo's komodo dragon. It seemed that Perth Zoo was taking good care of this carnivorous creature, as there are two tanks for Raja. Afterwards we saw the red panda. Like the quokka, the red panda's status is vulnerable. Red panda can only be found in China. The next animal is the white-cheeked gibbon which looks very unique.

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Spectacular view of Perth from Kings Park

The next section was the African Savannah where we saw African Painted Dogs, baboons, rhinoceroses, lions, giraffes, cheetahs, hyenas, meerkats, and Galapagos tortoise. There was also a small cave containing nocturnal animals. It was very dark inside but we managed to see the ghost bats and quokka. I had a whale of a time at the Perth Zoo.

On the third day, I went to the Queens Garden again to check on the black swans and their cygnets. There was no sign of them when we first came but after a few minutes they waddled to the river. After that we took three CATs and finally stopped at Havelock Street, where Kings Park was located. This park was breathtaking with so many tropical plants all around. The park overlooks the Swan River with magnificent view. We were lucky that the weather was sunny with cooling breezes. The park even has a gorgeous water garden with a lovely water fountain. People loved to sit there and have picnics and mallards adored going into the water and dabble for pondweeds. However, those cheeky mallards loved to snatch sandwiches or any other basket- stored food people brought for their picnics.

The park even had a botanical garden with plants like granite bottlebrush and snakebushes. We did one daring act - walking above a high bridge. Imagine bungee jumping from the top – injury is certain unless you have the right equipment. After two and a half hours of walk, we went for lunch at Hay Street. After lunch I had a whale of a time chasing seagulls at a street with no traffic.

On the last day, I went for a last visit to the Queens Garden to say goodbye to the black swan family. I also had my last chance of chasing seagulls at Hay Street before going to the airport. We had a very relaxing, enjoyable and memorable holiday in Perth. I vow to visit Perth again in future.

Written by:
Koh Chee Yuan