Koala Online

  CHAPTER 1

  “All I am saying is give love a shot,” I said to the babe clutching the tree across from me. “I promise I am worth the effort. Hear me out.”

  The way she hung from the gum tree was mesmerizing. I felt she was ignoring me again, and to be fair, this was a common trait of hers. Maybe a different approach was needed.

  “Look,” I told her. “I get we have different upbringings. I was raised in Texas with a loving support team who nurtured me. You were raised in those trees by the creek with the awesome views of… those other trees. Why can we not at least get dinner in the same tree? I really want to confirm you want me around before I take the ten minutes to get over there and you snarl me away. Which, have you had a vet look at that? Your grunting and snarling are like level one hundred scary. I swear you get stat increases in ‘scary diva’ every time I get near you. Are you even listening to a word I am saying?”

  I mentioned a vet, as in a veterinarian that could assess how her sounds of displeasure were so frightening. See, my name is Ranger. I am a rehabilitated koala sent from America to help restore the dwindling wild species number here, in the Outback. There was a full circle in effect here. It all started when I was part of a rehoming initiative when I was a joey. The tiny koala I was back then was exported to help spread the burden of a decreasing natural habitat. I was sent to a wonderful zoo in Austin, Texas that I missed severely. I had a justifiable reason for that. You see… the team back in “The Rock” as we called my pen…well, they sold me a load of bull poo with a super side of cow patties. There were not infinite lady koalas eager for some awesome Texan male. They spurned my advances and I spent like - I don’t know - sixteen hours a day sleeping in a gum tree. The rest of the time, these sheilas - their term, not mine - complained about my American accent. As if I could change that. I felt a yawn coming on, and when Darcy - the hottie from one tree over - ignored me, I went back to eating. She waited for this exact moment, for me to have my face stuffed with food, to respond.

  “Your accent is grating on my ears. Find a new tree, seppo,” Darcy said with a snarl.

  I tried to reply, I really did, but I blew out leaves in my rush to talk. This resulted in me ruining my delicious snack. I gave up talking with Darcy as she laughed at my misfortune. Living in the wild blew. I missed Texans and America in general.

  Yup. You heard me right. The spitting, cursing, beer-at-noon Americans were missed. I had a favorite game there that was delightful. I would pick a pebble from the enclosure stream and climb up my tree with it. When night arrived, I would wait for the cleaning crew to pass by and then toss the pebble to the walkway. I missed the sound of those rocks tinkering across the cobblestones.

  The game was simple. How many dumb human children would eat the rock? The process was so riveting I would stay up past my normal nap times if that little pebble was not kicked away. My record was six. Six tiny humans picked up a rock off the ground and… Yup. Instantly into the mouth it would go. There were no little rock eaters here in Australia to help pass the time. Aw, I missed those days of a few parents caring and the rest oblivious to their children digesting the rocks I tossed onto the human paths. Almost as much as I missed getting fat and being served fresh food on the daily. Or yummy premade snacks. The thing I missed most of all was my nighttime television. I can read subtitles like a boss. My evening handler, Barbra, left the television on just for me every night and I would zone out for hours watching the greatest thing. Infomercials were almost amazing as movies that were in their prime twenty years ago. Evan Koala Almighty, as I liked to call it, was my all-time favorite.

  What I did not miss was my reintegration training. I made it through those horrid days of having to get food for myself by listening to the sweet lies spewed to me by my care team. I would love Australia. I would be happy to be in my native homeland. The locals would welcome me as a returning hero and I would create big awesome joeys with the ladies. Which, I had been told by three different handlers, meant ‘baby’ to Australians. Smh. Well, spoiler. They were all so, so wrong!

  Ranger the Texas koala had a human fetish. As I enjoyed the stupid outfits they wore and the silly helmet things they called hats. By thunder, I even loved it when they called me all the dumbest things. That part was fantastic. My favorite was when they would ask the zookeepers why a grizzly bear was in a tree. I would do my silent laugh for hours over those idiots. Sorry, not sorry. Humans are great in that way. They are the kings of ridicule.

  Since I had been in Australia, I had zero love interests willing to reciprocate my dashing charm. I had lost a few kilograms. Yeah, I know. Adapting to the metric system was part of my reintegration training. Humans, right? So ironic those dummies have two ways to measure and weigh things.

  So, there I was. A grumpy koala with unfilled desires of intimacy sitting in a tree about to take a nap for the third time today. A human woman wearing a tank top and beige shorts ran for me in a panic. Sweat stains soiled her clothing.

  “Sheilas, oh little rippas. You are beauts. You are,” she said with wide eyes. I tilted my head in confusion at her disheveled appearance.

  The human ran to us with a water bottle. My initial reaction was to climb higher when I encountered wild humans as I termed them. This one called me a female so I was more inclined to assert some dominance and hump her arm. That, and wild humans were not supposed to be out here. Only my vet team came once every three weeks. This was completely unexpected and her agitated demeanor had me on edge.

  “Drink, little ones. Oh, you are a bloke. You two rooting it up while the wildfires rage on?” she asked, and I blinked in panic.

  No to rooting, which meant intercourse. Super uh-oh level a thousand alert with klaxons going off in my head; the term ‘wildfires’ had been briefed in my final orientation for wild release. They were high-level bad news. I went into anxiety mode with exacerbated rapid breathing. Ranger, calm. Calm. Calm. The wild human was shoving a bottle in my face. I had not noticed a temperature increase but I was certainly taking her words seriously. Even Darcy eyed me with skepticism from her tree. I chugged that water for all it was worth and the human cursed when I finished it off.

  “Hold tight, I will try to be back. If I canna find you, hasta flat-out to the west. Tell your drongo sheila up yonder to scurry down and run that way,” the human lady said while pointing a direction. I slowly turned my head that way and when I turned back she had bolted away in a run, an ever-shrinking image on the horizon.

  I liked her Nike sneakers. That I understood. What she had said... I had no idea, as the Australian lingo was a mystery to me.

  “Darcy, what did the crazy Australian lady say?” I said to her as she gazed down at me with contempt.

  “I am stupid, and we need to go west. It looks like you will get to spend some time with me, Ranger. You will dive in the fire and save me if it comes. Deal with it,” Darcy said with a huff as she slowly clawed her way down the gum tree.

  “Darcy, you look lovely, but we are not at the sacrificial love aspect of our relationship. You need to give me… at least, like… three joeys first. Yes, three. Exactly three. And then I will jump into fire for you. Not one less,” I said and she frowned while slowly descending.

  I reached the dusty earth and for the first time indeed smelled a fire. I tilted my neck up high and saw smoke billowing in the skyline heading our way. So… Some may judge me for this, but I ran. I left that snooty Darcy behind and ran the direction the human indicated for us to travel.

  My orientation for my wild release said I could achieve thirty-two kilometers an hour. Whatever the heck that was. I happened to need to pee and was due for a nap. I managed a slow run at best, good old Texas perfection. Running was for yanks trying to stay warm in the frigid north.

  De
sperate to pee, I sought a place to urinate in private. I stopped at a nearby bush, thankful to reach a good spot. Eeek. This bush was occupied by a big spider eating a small snake. Yeah. Don’t get me started on the weird stuff you see from the wildlife in Australia. How? I mean, does the spider think he can consume the snake? Why did Morgan Freeman make spiders so darn big? All questions I would never have the answers to.

  I continued my trek west until I found a rock to relieve myself behind. The smell of smoke grew stronger and I continued to run west; always west. Planes soared overhead, dripping water from bladder sacks. Helicopters swirled the air in intricate patterns as they raced to the raging infernos in the distance. A fire truck screamed past me and I tried to wave it down only to find my body too slow and my face not cute enough. At least that is what I told myself as I pressed on. The clouds started to blot out the sky and more trucks screamed down a road going the opposite way I was. They blared obnoxious music and some flew flags.

  There, I saw a don’t tread on me flag blaring Garth Brooks at painful volumes. I waved and the big tired truck slammed on its brakes. An American stepped out of the vehicle and I wanted to line dance.

  How did I know it was a fellow Texan just like me? They wore a hard hat with two beer can holders on it. A straw snaked to their face and they had a stupid grin on their stubbly face. When a wad of spit flew from his mouth I knew I had a winner. Texan to the core.

  “Hey Jerry, found another one. Jiminy cricket, this little stud was lucky,” the American said to his friend as he dug a wad of chewing tobacco out of his mouth to fling it into the dirt. I ran for his leg thanking all the gods. A more beautiful set of coveralls had never been seen. “Little guy was all geared up to escape too.”

  “Awesome, Ryan. The CB is broadcasting mandatory evacuations. We are volunteer personnel and not allowed to stay. We have to flee before the fires reach here,” Jerry said to Ryan in a somber tone.

  “Five more minutes. I set a timer on my iWatch. Huh. Jessie is going to see me as running in the bush and be so proud. Stupid thing is tracking our slow drive as me exercising. Score!” Ryan said and I was not confused. Americans said dumb stuff all the time and I loved it.

  I was scooped up and put into the bed of the truck to the most amazing sight imaginable. Five stunning koala babes, and they were scared and frightened. I decided to help them transition during this tough time by koala man-splaining the situation.

  “Thanks for the pickup, Ryan and Jerry. Oh, I see you ladies met my friends upfront. You know, we Texans tend to stick together. When the trouble gets tough, we drink beer, shoot guns, and get tougher. Everything is going to be just fine, all part of the plan.”

  All the sheilas started giving me flirtatious winks and smiles. They bought my cheesy line and I was being hailed a hero.

  “I am Bev, thanks for sending your American friends. Tell us about Texas and what a volunteer is,” Bev said, and I went into the story of my past as we rode a little further to the fire.

  The last stop we made was for Darcy before we turned around. She sulked in a corner as I gained all the attention a male koala could ever want.

  CHAPTER 2

  Have you ever had a day go so terribly you wanted to kick a cockroach repeatedly? Well, I have. I am one of those native Australian, tree-hugging, adorable bears. Ha! Got you there. I am not a bear. You might be wondering how your new friend Ranger is so smart on all things koala. Well, when I was in Texas I read an enclosure plaque that was filled with all the best details about koalas. I think I read it twice, okay maybe one and a half times. I was way too busy watching the television that played in my observation room. My veterinarian handlers left it on the channel that played all the awesome movies from a dozen years back.

  I watched Morgan Freeman enough to say all his lines in the best voice a koala could. There was a small problem though. Other koalas thought my references were crazy, and humans just thought I was a snarling, grouchy koala who growled too much. Which leads to my current predicament.

  You see, I was rescued from the outback fires of 2019. I got to see them on the telly after I was saved. That day I was fed all the yummy leaves I could ever ask for. Best of all, I happened to be paired in a temporary cage with Bev. That was where the news turned sour. That first night waiting for a new home was bliss. The cage had luxury padding and lovely Bev to keep me warm. Then tragedy struck: I was packed in a travel crate alone, without my darling sheila. I was fed some yummy eucalyptus leaves when a needle went into my bum. The pain was level four and I may have tried to swipe the audacious hand holding the medication. A deep sleep washed over me and I passed out.

  I awoke on a ship in a crate with a window view of the ocean. There was no Bev, there were no rescue people, and I was thoroughly upset when I saw a cockroach eating the leaves left out for me. I proceeded to turn the cockroach into a soccer ball after a good stunning. I was not sure what was going on, but eventually my frustration at the situation abated. I let my little prisoner go and ate a full meal.

  The only thing keeping me from going into full rage mode was the view. My cage was on the top deck with air holes in the front of a plastic door.

  The ocean was five shades of blue and the sky was grey with a brewing storm on the horizon. I watched the white caps sporadically spawn in the ocean for what had to have been hours. The sound of the waves crashing against the bow of the ship added to the serenity of the situation.

  Eventually, a crew member came by to add a fresh bag of leaves. I saw him add some leaves to a pen way down the line, which gave me hope I was not the only koala. The next three pens got chunks of bloody meat. Okay, being alone in my cage was just fine, yup; I was all aboard the not-getting-eaten train. My leaves were dumped into my cage from a sliding slot.

  The bloke… Australians and their terms! The man spoke in French to me. A language I did not understand. Heck, I barely understood Australian. Give me a southern drawl though, and I was your koala. I may have gotten sidetracked in my thoughts when I learned I was on a French cargo ship. The big takeaway was that this cage was made for small-brained koalas. My intelligence was superior to humans at times and I proved it when the French sailor left my view.

  I jimmied the sliding slot to the right and let my hand through the opening. My two opposable thumbs clasped onto the door and voilà! I was free. I let the door swing outwards and then pulled it back in with an outstretched arm. My initial rush of freedom gave me pause. No point in breaking out on an empty stomach because I was famished. If I ate again; well, that meant my mid-afternoon second nap was needed. I had a plan. Like most things a koala achieved it involved eating, followed by a nap first.

  When I awoke from my slumber it was the next morning. The morning twilight transitioned as the horizon eclipsed the sun and brightened the cloudless day. I was guessing the sleeping drugs were out of my system now because I was fresh and lively from my extra-long sleep. I ate half a meal while I scanned my surroundings.

  The sailors on the top deck seemed to avoid this area and I decided to go exploring. I propped my door open after a slight bit of work and used my awesome climbing skills to land on the poopdeck. Some ship’s terms are simply amazing.

  The coarse spikey texture of the ground was so odd I became distracted while I walked the line of cages. Suddenly a snarling creature lunged at me. I shrieked like a little ankle-biter when told a scary furphy. My assailant thankfully slammed into the plastic door that confined him. I cried out a second time when the Tasmanian devil drooled at the sight of me. My little legs and hands propelled me to the last cage in a rush and I gave the most awful groan at what I saw.

  Darcy saw me and said, “Rack off, Seppo! I am taking a sickie from you, the drugs have me stuffed.”

  “Fine, I am…”

  Crack, snap, crack!

  I turned my head in confusion at the noise. That was the sound of automatic gunfire. But we were… I saw we were entering a busy seaway by a desert. The only reason for weapons going off would m
ean…

  “Pirates!” I exclaimed in fright.

  “Smh, you Yanks are prone to tell…”

  “Furphy stories. Bev was teaching me slang. This is the real deal. I am going to hide. You want to stay in or get out? Quick!” I said, listening for the sounds of fighting.

  Except I heard no more gunshots. The French flag was lowered and a white shirt was raised. A literal white shirt off some Frenchman’s back was flying over our ship. Aww… For once I wanted a stereotype to be wrong. I knew in that moment there was only going to be the fight I brought to the pirates.

  “I will stay safe in here,” Darcy said and faded to the back of her cage.

  I fled the area and went down a stairwell. The thud of my feet echoing in the enclosed space. When a crewman walking up top to surrender tried to pick me up, well, I was not nice. I bit, kicked, and clawed myself free. The poor sailor was crying when I left him cowering in the corner. I found a nice, quiet storage bunk to hide on. I knew exactly what to do. I had watched speedy nokeenu two like fifty times. I needed to expedite myself to the bilge room and inflate the ballast to keep us from crashing into the oil tanker and therefore save the world. Simple as a movie scene. Nothing to worry about here.

  The ship leaned in a tight turn and moments later I saw what I expected: stinky pirates carrying AK-47s inspecting the crew’s rooms. I sat on a sailor’s bunk and pretended to be a stuffed animal. I was passed up three times. The fourth dum-dum decided to poke me. He then went to inspect my teeth. I got all the experience points possible when I chomped part of his finger off.

  The pirate screamed as I fled. The deafening rattle of a weapon going off inside a metal ship rang my ears. I didn’t turn back as I raced down a stairwell. Stairs were a bane for a rushing koala and I tumbled and rolled until I arrived in front of an open door. The plaque on the door was French but under that hideous writing were blessed English words.

  ‘Engine Room’