|
I was wandering along my
favourite forest trail the other day looking for a good place to
hide a cache when I heard the shuffling of feet through the dry
leaves. I looked behind me and couldn't believe my eyes. There,
waddling down the trail, was a penguin – not just any penguin, but
THE penguin. What an opportunity! Having had my last story (River
Runner Confronted by Police during Geocaching Adventure) rejected
by the National Enquirer, I saw this as my chance to finally gain
that ever elusive notoriety.
I stood on the trail and
watched him shuffling toward me. “Excuse me,” I said as he came
closer. He startled and came to a sudden halt amidst a flurry of
colourful leaves. “Pardon me for frightening you, but I'm a bit
surprised to see a penguin of your renown wandering these paths.
May I ask what brings you here?”
“Autumn landscape,” he replied
as he patted his ruffled feathers back into place. “Brings me back
year after year. Don't you just love the sound of crispy leaves
under your toes?”
“Um yes, I suppose I do. Now, I
don't want to impose but I have a huge favour to ask. I'm an
amateur writer trying to make it big and a story about you might be
just what I need to launch my career.”
He looked at me quizzically.
“Impromptu,” he muttered “interviews. I don't usually do those, but
I suppose I can make an exception just this once.”
What luck, I thought to myself.
“Thank you so much. I promise not to take too much of your time.
First question then - I haven't seen much of you in the media
lately. What have you been up to?”
“Aladdin. The Treasure of the
Lost Lamp. I'm sure you've heard of that.”
“Isn't that an old Arabian
story?”
“Scottish! It's an ancient
legend, boy. It says that the lamp is hidden somewhere in the moors
and if you find it, it will lead you to a treasure beyond your
wildest dreams. I've been searching for it for years but so far no
luck, only dead ends in peat bogs.”
“Wow, that sounds a lot like
some Beagle-1 and Mystery Mole caches I've done lately. Ever
consider that you may have been misdirected?”
“Be eagle one and mystery mole
cash? What ARE you talking about?”
“I'm talking about Geocaching.”
I waved my GPSr under his beak. “You go out and search for
tupperware in the woods, among other places.”
“Tupperware in the woods?” He
looked at me like I was out of my mind.
I began to worry about the
direction this interview was heading. “I suppose it does sound a
bit odd.”
“Cuckoo! Not odd. Cuckoo!
Cuckoo! CUCKOO!” He ran circles around me, flapping his flippers in
a frenzied but failed attempt to gain altitude. “I think you need
some help, young man. Looking for tupperware in the woods...why I
never!” He abandoned his attempt at flight and looked at me
hopefully. “Does the tupperware have sardines in it by
chance?”
“Well no, but it's fun anyway
and you don't have to tromp through the moors. Hmmm, maybe that's
not totally true. There was this one time I was looking for a cache
in a swamp and neglected to take my flashlight. The only light I
had was the light of the moon.”
“Moonlight? No flashlight?
Doesn't seem like a very bright idea. Bright idea! Get it?” He
started laughing hysterically.
“Okay, maybe I deserved that. I
know it's getting late and I have a few other questions for you.
Everyone is interested in celebrity romance. How's your love
life?”
“Six romances,” he grinned at
me, “in six weeks! Best six weeks of my life if you know what I
mean!” He poked me in the ribs. “ I'm not too sure any of the six
would be happy to read about the other five so let's keep that
tender morsel to ourselves.”
“That seems very out of
character for you. I always thought of you as a quiet, gentle and
somewhat naive sort.”
“All just a role I was playing.
What you're seeing is the real me.”
“Okay, just one more question
for you. What projects have you got planned for the
future?”
He puffed out his chest, looked
down his beak at me, and pronounced in THE most horrid
Shakespearean accent “Othello. My good man, I plan to put Patrick
Stewart to shame,” his voice cracked, “although I'm still trying to
convince Lord Attenborough to cast me in the lead role.” The
penguin breathed deeply and let out a huge sigh. “He thinks I'd be
much more convincing as Desdemona.”
With that, he smiled, tipped
his Tilley, turned on his heel and waddled off down the trail,
mightily crunching the leaves with each gleeful step.
I turned to go home and write
up my story and there, right in front of me, was the perfect spot
to hide a cache.
|