Operatic Duck / Duck on Tour Page 2

  Duck looked. The knees were very knobbly. He looked silly, not grand.

  ‘Let’s use a chariot,’ said Ned. ‘Your knees won’t show.’

  ‘Who’ll pull?’

  ‘Errr – Horse and Cow. We can paint them gold.’

  ‘My costume looks like a nightie, I’m pulled onstage by gold painted farm animals! Great, Ned. Really great. Aren’t you lucky I can sing so well!’ He flapped back to his costume fitting.

  ‘I’m going to fix the elephant,’ said Ned. ‘It’s a complete disaster.’

  ‘I MUST think of something GRAND,’ cried Duck.

  ‘You will.’ Cate filled the bucket with Pig’s sultana porridge and left.

  ‘Cow, how do you feel about being painted?’ asked Duck.

  ‘Not good, but I’m in,’ replied Cow.

  Pig was dancing, Goat was drumming, Parrot was skydancing, Sheep was colourful and Horse and Cow were entering with the lead singer.

  Duck needed an idea – urgently!

  Before their night rehearsal, Duck searched for “Aida” songs. He found one called Celeste Aida.

  ‘It’s an aria, that’s when only one person sings,’ said Parrot. ‘You repeat the words a lot.’

  ‘Good,’ said Sheep. ‘Not much to remember.’

  Duck hit the START button. The music started and so did the Voice.

  ‘Celeste Aida,’ sang the Voice.

  ‘Baa, Baa, Baa Baa Baa,’ sang Sheep.

  ‘Oink, Oink Oink Oink Oink Oink,’ sang Pig.

  ‘Moo, Moo, Moo, and Moo Moo,’ sang Cow.

  ‘Stop,’ said Duck. ‘One at a time.’

  They tried again.

  ‘You’re a better Director than Ned. You don’t yell,’ said Sheep.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Duck, ‘but I’m still not in the Grand March.’

  Late that night, Duck crept into the hay shed. Maybe he could fix the elephant. Maybe he could improve the elephant. Maybe he could BE the elephant!

  Chapter 5

  Quack Quack Aida

  ‘Help! Quack! Quack!’

  Cate heard yells as she parked her bike beside the shed. Who could be up this early?

  She peeped through the door and saw an elephant eating a duck.

  One webbed foot was sticking out of the elephant’s flapping ear; the trunk was coiled around the glue pot. Dangling from a tusk was a yellow feather. There was an overwhelming smell of glue and wet paint. The floor was covered in webbed foot prints.

  ‘Are you under there, Duck?’

  ‘YES! I’m stuck. The elephant didn’t do what I wanted it to. The ears didn’t fly.’

  ‘Fly?’

  ‘It wouldn’t stand up, so I tried to make it fly.’

  Cate pulled and pulled. Duck was very stuck.

  ‘Stay there, I’ll get the First Aid kit.’

  Duck only needed six bandaids.

  They rode Cate’s bike to the kitchen for breakfast.

  Her bike gave Duck an idea.

  Duck felt much better when his tummy was full of warm toast and milk.

  ‘Hey Duck. We need to copy you again.’ The red haired boy had a camera and the stool.

  ‘Mr Bigge wants a photo of you on my carved duck stool. It’s for the brochures that sell the Isis Apartments.’

  The stool looked fabulous. Duck wings were beautifully carved into it.

  ‘Wow, you’re important,’ said Cate. ‘In Ancient Egypt the great army leaders sat on these stools. Ducks mattered.’

  ‘Yep,’ said the boy.

  ‘Not many red SOLD stickers, yet,’ said Cate. ‘He needs to sell them or he loses a pile of money.’

  Duck felt GRAND as he posed for the digital photo. He looked great. Cate said so too.

  Ned followed the smell of toast. ‘Hi all. Nice photo.’

  Duck felt taller. Maybe Ned would need him.

  Ned ticked his checklist. ‘Costumes ready, music sounds good, can’t hear the chorus because the orchestra is louder but the set looks great. Still haven’t got an elephant.’

  As Cate said, ‘Tickets are selling really well,’ a big shadow loomed.

  ‘Great, ‘said Mr Bigge. ‘I need a crowd so the TV crew will come and everyone will see that my apartments are for sale. I want them all sold before I build them. Let’s see the duck photo, kid. Excellent wings.’

  Mr Bigge looked down at Duck. ‘I’m going to make you a star!’

  ‘How?’ said Cate.

  ‘I’ll plaster his photo on the billboard, the posters and the brochures.’

  ‘Why don’t you take a picture of him with the Isis Temple statue we finished this morning? They’ve both got wings. Maybe your apartments will take off!’ joked Ned.

  Duck wasn’t sure about that. But he LOVED the Isis statue. She was a Winged Wonder. Beautiful, tall and elegant.

  He still wasn’t in the Grand March but he was helping.

  Chapter 6

  The Grand March, With Duck!

  The Farm looked magical at twilight. Coloured lights were everywhere, even the clothes line. Tea lights in brown paper bags filled with sand flickered along the path. The smells of cooking food and eucalyptus leaves, lingered on the warm air as families settled on their rugs with picnic dinners.

  ‘Welcome ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Welcome to our audience sitting here on the grass and those watching at home to “Aida at the Abbey”, a special community opera performance sponsored by Isis apartments. A great place to live by the river!’ Mr Bigge boomed. The TV cameras zoomed around him.

  Backstage, Ned was running around. ‘Spray these bin lids gold. They’re shields in the Grand March! That costume’s too big. Pin it on him.’

  Duck was patting glitter gel on Horse and Cow. They backed into the chariot and didn’t quite fit.

  ‘These wheels are wobbly,’ complained the singer.

  ‘Lose weight!’ yelled Ned.

  ‘Whose?’ muttered Cow.

  ‘Beginners’ call. Everyone on stage!’ the Stage Manager called. Her day job was running the milk bar but tonight she was in charge of getting the show on the stage.

  ‘I’m supposed to be an Ethiopian slave and there’s no black paint left,’ moaned Old Bill, the Abbey gardener.

  ‘Here’s a bottle of fake tan, use that.’ Cate fixed her veils.

  ‘Doesn’t Cate look beautiful,’ whispered Duck to Cow.

  ‘Those ice cream containers make good headgear,’ agreed Horse.

  The band started up. Trumpets blew, the crowd cheered and the First Act went well.

  At interval, Mr Bigge came backstage. ‘It’s wonderful!’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ned. ‘We’ve put a lot of work into Aida.’

  ‘Yes, yes the show’s fine but Mr Lee from Singapore has bought five apartments!’ Mr Bigge boomed.

  ‘Hope they’re not close to Pig’s dinner,’ muttered Parrot, flying in with his silver streamers.

  ‘Act Two Scene One beginners! Get ready for the Grand March!’ yelled the Stage Manager.

  ‘She’s very efficient; I could use her in my office!’ Mr Bigge raced back to his seat.

  The King on his carved duck chair was carried in to watch the Grand March.

  ‘I knew that Luigi, the baker would make a great King!’ Ned fixed his crown. ‘Break a leg!’

  Sheep didn’t think that was a good idea.

  Pig’s moment had now arrived. The lights dimmed. The trumpets announced the entrance of the Grand March.

  ‘Remember, Pig. You’re a prisoner of the Egyptian king. You’ve been captured in battle. Look sad,’ whispered Duck.

  ‘I’ll do it my way.’

  Pig was in purple, with a veil and gold chains around his neck and glow-in-the-dark purple nail-polish on his trotters. Surrounded by dancing girls, he belly-danced onto the stage. The crowd roared.

  ‘Pig’s upstaging me!’ complained the singer.

  ‘Cate, why are they doing Greek dancing?’ screamed Ned.

  ‘Were you there in An
cient Egypt? Who knows what they danced!’

  ‘Are you nervous Cate?’ Duck tried to help.

  ‘A bit. Haven’t had time to practise. Ned sent me to collect bottle tops, old CDs, buttons and curtain rings from the Op Shop.’

  ‘That’s why the armour looks great.’

  ‘Amazing what a bit of gold paint can hide,’ laughed Cate.

  Just then Goat’s drums started.

  ‘Here come the Egyptian soldiers!’

  ‘They’re wearing nappies!’ squawked Parrot. ‘Someone should have told them how to put on their black eyeliner!’

  ‘Broom handles and tea towels make great banners, Cate.’ Duck was impressed.

  ‘I’m on!’ Parrot flew over the soldiers and the audience trailing his multi-coloured streamers.

  ‘Gloria! Gloria!’ sang the chorus as Parrot flew.

  ‘You and Sheep are next, Cate.’ Cymbals crashed, trumpets blew, and the bass drum boomed. On marched rainbow coloured Sheep. You needed sunglasses to look at Sheep. Cate and the other dancers in their coloured wigs were twirling and swirling around him.

  The stage was full now with dancers, soldiers, animals and the chorus who were singing loudly. Duck wondered if the chariot would fit on.

  The TV cameras zoomed in.

  ‘At last!’ The singer grabbed the reins of the chariot. ‘March!’ he ordered Horse and Cow.

  ‘I’ll kick him into the river.’ Cow lurched forward.

  ‘Just remember we look better than him. We’re painted gold and he’s wearing a nightie!’ Horse chuckled and moved forward. The audience cheered.

  ‘Isis!’ cried the Stage Manager to the backstage helpers.

  Duck’s moment had arrived. He had never felt so tall. His wings had never been so wide. Under the glare of the spot lights, he glowed. He was a Winged, Wheeled Wonder!

  The tandem bike was beneath him pedalled by the red haired boy. The ladder welded to the back of the bicycle held the huge paper mache head of the Goddess Isis. Her metal coathanger wings, covered by white silky curtains floated in the evening breeze. Between her outstretched arms balancing on her staff was... Duck, the honorable duck of Ancient Egypt.

  At the after-show party, Mr Bigge announced, ‘While I’m building the apartments, you’ll be touring Singapore.’

  ‘Singapore?’ Cate was surprised.

  ‘Mr Lee owns a theatre in Singapore and he wants your “Aida” to perform there.’

  ‘It is original,’ beamed Ned. ‘Good thing we used animals instead of puppets.’

  ‘Duck on Tour!’ thought Duck.

  Chapter 1

  All Aboard

  ‘All aboard!’

  ‘Trouble is, they aren’t,’ said Cate to the Platform Attendant.

  ‘As Tour Manager, it’s your job to make sure our cast and luggage are on the train,’ said Pig, adjusting his backpack.

  ‘Yes, Pig, I know. And you can help by putting these stickers on the luggage.’

  Things had been pretty busy at the farm over the past couple of weeks. The Opera Aida had been a triumph. Mr Bigge had arranged with his friends in the government, to take the farm animals on tour.

  Train tickets were organised, bags packed, costumes made, sets and props bought and rehearsals completed.

  Everyone was feeling very nervous because they were leaving home and starring in the Arts Train Tour.

  Duck had been ready since 4 a.m. too excited to sleep. Even his feathers were brushed. Standing on the platform, he observed the magnificent, rainbow train. Each carriage was a different colour and the engine was bright purple.

  The farm animals were in the yellow carriage with the blue spots. The rock band was in the black carriage with the skulls on it. The performance Rap Poets were already rap dancing on and off the step of their red carriage.

  ‘Wonderful day for a trip on a train,

  Lots of red dust, hope it don’t rain.

  Yo... Say Yo....’

  ‘YO!’ yelled their fans on the platform. ‘YO!’

  The two opera singers were hard to recognise. They had scarves wrapped around their throats and noses. They were in the silver and gold carriage.

  A bright red-haired woman was urgently telling the opera singers, ‘Now call me if the beds aren’t comfortable, the food is rotten or the toilets are dirty. I have insisted that you get top class treatment. Call me any time, day or night if you have a problem.’

  ‘How can beds be comfortable on a train?’ said the opera singer.

  ‘I asked for an extra mattress,’ said his red-haired agent.

  The graffiti-artists had decorated their own carriage. It looked like a trifle.

  Clowns were tumbling near their green carriage. Watching, Parrot decided he could do better. A long time ago, he had trained with a Russian gymnast in a circus.

  ‘Get that bird off my station clock!’ yelled the Platform Attendant.

  ‘Catch me if you can,’ cried Parrot as he somersaulted, with three flips from quarter past nine to the Train Departures Board.

  ‘If Parrot breaks his wing, he won’t be in the show.’ Sheep checked he had enough batteries for his mini-disk player.

  ‘Where’s Goat?’ called Cate.

  Duck noticed that Cate’s neck had gone pink. She was getting worried.

  ‘He’s drumming for the Rap Poets,’ said Cow.

  ‘Rappers! Adding to the noise. Are all stations this noisy?’ complained Pig. ‘Whistles. Horns. Banging trolleys. Slurping drink cans.’

  ‘Be grateful you’re not travelling in the luggage van, in a cage,’ said Cate.

  ‘What?’ choked Pig.

  ‘That’s where animals usually travel,’ said Duck. ‘But we’re special, so we have seats in the yellow carriage.’

  ‘I want a window seat,’ said Pig.

  ‘Everyone will get a turn. We’ll swap.’ Cate counted the bags and checked her mobile messages.

  Parrot landed on Cate’s shoulder. ‘Did you bring the munchies, Cate?’

  ‘Yes.’ Cate checked. ‘Apples, bananas, jelly babies, snakes, Tic Tacs and salt and vinegar chips. Have I forgotten anything?’

  ‘My sultanas,’ said Pig.

  ‘No, I haven’t forgotten,’ said Cate. ‘They’re with the cook. You’ll have your sultana porridge every breakfast.’

  ‘Herd your cast onto the train!’ boomed the Platform Attendant. ‘The train is leaving for OuterTarn in one minute.’

  ‘I thought we were going to Darwin?’ said Duck.

  ‘We are,’ said Cate. ‘But we’re performing at places along the way. Some towns don’t get many live performances. They’re excited we’re coming. The Arts Committee in every town has organised morning and afternoon tea for all the guest artists.’

  Pig said quickly, ‘No ham sandwiches, I hope.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Cate. ‘But there’ll be lots of lamingtons and cream sponges.’

  As each animal boarded, Cate ticked her Tour Manager’s List.

  ‘All here.’ Cate beamed at the Platform Attendant.

  At 9.21, the guard blew his whistle, the platform attendant waved his flag, the crowd cheered and the multi-coloured train pulled out of the station.

  ‘We’re the Rainbow Train,’ said, Duck poking his head out of the window and watching the carriages curve around the tracks.

  Chapter 2

  On Board

  As the train rattled and lurched, the farm animals played their favourite game of Hide and Seek. It was a bit of a squeeze for Cow and Horse. Sheep could hide under the bunk bed but they had to hide in a toilet cubicle. Duck always found them. Pig didn’t play; he was too busy unwrapping his ‘freebie’ travel kit.

  ‘What’s this, Cate?’

  ‘Your free toothpaste.’

  ‘Not enough here to brush one tooth,’ complained Pig.

  Crash!

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Cate. ‘Goat’s trying to walk with his sleep shades on.’

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Parrot. ‘Where’s the dini
ng car?’

  ‘Follow me.’ Duck had read every brochure and map in the side seat pocket. ‘The orange dining carriage is in the middle between the Rappers and the Rock Band.’

  ‘I need a cup of tea.’ Cate grabbed her handbag.

  They lurched down the inside corridor, peering through compartment windows. There were pull-down bunks, tables and basins.

  ‘How do we get through to the next carriage?’ said Sheep. ‘And how do I remember which carriage I’m in?’

  ‘We’re in the yellow carriage with spots. Like measles,’ said Duck.

  ‘Measles aren’t blue,’ said Parrot.

  ‘Be careful,’ Cate warned. ‘The wind will knock you flat as I open the door.’

  Duck’s feathers went flat as the wind hit him.

  ‘Be careful as you cross the coupling. Don’t want any of you squashed on the track,’ warned Cate.

  Duck tried not to look down at the ground rushing underneath him. He leapt through the second door which was painted black with silver skulls. He was in the Rock Carriage.

  Rat tat Rat tat. The drummer was drumming the vinyl seat with his sticks.

  Goat was impressed. The Rock Carriage was rocking.

  ‘Are these jeans tight enough?’ the lead singer was asking his girlfriend.

  Clothes, guitars, lolly wrappers and boots were lying all over the carriage.

  ‘Wow! Am I seeing things or is there a farm moving through my carriage?’

  ‘We’re on our way to the dining car,’ said Cate.

  ‘Off to the Diner? Any hay for lunch?’ asked the drummer. ‘Whatever’s on the menu, I’ll eat. I have to get through this afternoon’s rehearsal.’

  ‘Follow us, ‘said Cate. ‘ It’s our first gig tonight too.’

  Duck fluffed his feathers. The Diner was full of food smells and people. Hot chocolate. Toasted sandwiches. Gravy.

  Balancing on the bar stool, Duck read the signs of the railway stations as they whizzed through.