Timon and Pumbaa were taking a break, just enjoying lying down on the hill on the north of the track. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, so it was real easy for them to just soak in the sun.
"Hey Timon," said Pumbaa.
"Yuh."
"I've been wondering, what are these sticks for? They are scattered all over the place."
Timon opened an eye and looked down at the stick that was next to Pumbaa. He then looked around the rest of the hill, where the other animals were lying down or sitting, talking or just soaking in the sun. Virtually, next to every single group, there was a stick. And they were all there on purpose. There weren't a lot of trees close by so they hadn't just broke off, and they were all rather thick, long, and heavy, so there was obviously a reason of which they were there for.
"Perhaps you're supposed to prod the other audience members with it. You know, if they're sitting in your sunlight or not."
Pumbaa turned to look at the audience member sitting next to him. She was an ostrich. Pumbaa decided to prod her with the stick, just to see what effect it might have.
Not a good one.
The ostrich opened her sharp beak and screamed right in Pumbaa's face. Timon snatched the stick from him and dragged Pumbaa away from her by the back of his neck.
"Heh, heh, heh, good ostrich," said Timon, faking a grin as he gave her a friendly wave, leaving the ostrich thoroughly disgruntled.
"Maybe that's not what it's for," said Timon, as he let go of his friend. He'd dragged the tortoise shell over with them. Timon handed the stick back to Pumbaa, and then lay back down on the hill.
"Well . . . what's it for then?" asked Pumbaa.
"I don't know," replied Timon, "pick it up," he said, returning to sunbathing.
Pumbaa did so, and seconds later, Zazu swooped down and landed next to them.
"Good morning gents," he said, bowing.
"Hey Zazu, what is this stick for?" asked Pumbaa, pointing at it.
"Ah, well Pumbaa, when you hold that stick up, one of us birds will come and fly over to you. What we're allowed to do, is we're allowed to go into the infield to get a look at each competitors points. Therefore, what you do, is you tell us what you want to know, regarding how many points everyone has, we'll fly into the infield and then come back and tell you."
"Oh," replied Pumbaa, "well . . . then . . . eh . . . how many points does Sarafina have right now?"
"Zero."
"Oh. Well who's leading?"
Zazu sighed. "Pumbaa, we haven't even started yet."
"Go on Zazu," said Timon, "you don't have to stay around for us. I'm sure you've got other stuff to do," he finished off, waving his hand in a 'shoo, shoo!' motion.
"Wait Timon," said Pumbaa, "there's one thing I still don't get . . ." he turned back to face Zazu ". . . how do you know you're getting the correct scores? Can you tell everyone's paw print?"
"Ah, not exactly Pumbaa," replied Zazu. Timon groaned and stuffed his ears with his fingers, trying to just get back to relaxing. "Here's how it works. All the paw prints are lined up in alphabetical order, so we go down to whose paw print we think it is, and then the scorekeeper for each paw print tells us whose paw print it is, just so that we can make sure that we're correct, and then we report back to you."
"Oh. Well . . . eh . . . I guess that makes sense."
"Excellent," replied Zazu, flickering his wings together, "well, I guess you two best be getting on with fetching some more rainberries. If you go now, you won't miss the start of the event."
Timon groaned, while Pumbaa just got straight to his feet and stood up. "Come on buddy, let's go." Zazu flew off, and Timon took the opportunity to mutter something under his breath, before standing back up to his feet, grabbing the empty tortoise shell that had been lying behind them, and then jumping on Pumbaa's back with the tortoise shell in hand, before they left.
". . . in the twenty-five years of this competition, only fourteen lions have been skillful, talented, and lucky enough to call themselves Siku Choka champions," announced Simba through the loudspeaker, his mate standing next to him, ". . . four of those lions are standing here in the infield with me, and with them they share nine overall wins. But then there are also twelve lions and lionesses here today, who have never won. Five of which, have never competed in the Siku Choka before, and we wish the best to all of them. It is quite an honor to be hosting the twenty-fifth running of this event, and I am really glad that you could all make it out here to watch . . . or compete. Now I know some of you must be getting quite tired, so I'm going to hand it over to your queen of the Pridelands, my mate: Nala."
Simba handed the loudspeaker to her.
"Good morning, everyone," said Nala, testing her voice and the effects the loudspeaker had on it. "Well, if you're anything like me, you just want to get to the start and get this thing underway with," she said. The crowd cheered in agreement. Nala smiled. "I'm sure you've all worked out by now that we have rainberries being brought to and from the track, those sticks next to you are to wave our scorekeeper reporters down, and just know that we do reserve the right to have you removed from the crowd, or from the Pridelands, for whatever reason during this event," she said seriously. "I am quite certain however, that that should not pose a problem. Anyway," she said, turning her head to face a certain figure between two of the hills, "our timekeeper is giving me a signal that I should put this thing down . . ." the crowd cheered ". . . so the best to all our competitors, and thank you all for being here," she said, finishing off and putting the loudspeaker down.
The couple looked over at Bwana Zungumza, who was smiling but was also signaling frantically that the couple might want to make their way back over to the hill, quickly. The two got the idea, and so they both slowly jogged back over the track, amid the cheers coming from the crowd as Anzi began to lead the string of competitors out onto the track.
When Simba and Nala were able to have returned to their seats, all sixteen lions and lionesses were lining themselves up, side-by-side on the starting line. They weren't in alphabetical order anymore, they just lined up where they preferred. The more confident ones were lined up on the inside, with the intention of charging down the first prey and getting an early lead with the ten points that went with it. On the outside were the rookies, or the ones that simply preferred to get off to a slow start, so that they could conserve their energy for later.
"Hi, I'm Lenny," said the weak-looking lion, "mind if I start here?" he asked, standing right next to Wamariri.
"I wouldn't mind a little bit more space," replied the lioness, trying to keep her disgust held back.
"Sure," replied the lion. He took a step to the right. "Is that good enough?" he asked her.
Wamariri grunted.
Lenny, still smiling and as oblivious as ever, turned his head around to the right. "Hi there," he said to the lioness on the right of him.
"Hello," she replied. She already looked ragged and worn out, but she was crouched down low, as determined as ever.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Tumaini."
"Oh . . . you're the one who came all the way down from the Mimpaka pride, aren't you?"
"Yes," replied Tumaini simply, not really wanting to get into conversation.
Lenny turned his head back and forth, observing that both the lionesses next to him were crouched down low to the ground.
"So are you both planning on running too, are you? So am I!" He looked up in front of him. "Ooh, look at that – an antelope?" He stuck his tongue out. "I don't really like antelope. Still, I guess I should take it down, shouldn't I? I mean: that's the objective. What do they do with the carcasses once they're taken down? Do they feed them to the crowd? You know, that sounds like a good idea but really, when you think about it . . ."
"SHUT UP!!" commanded both Wamariri and Tumaini.
Lenny finally lost his smile. "Well really," he said, "all I wanted to do was talk, but if you're both going to be like that . . ."
Tumaini sighed. She really was a nice lioness, but still, she'd travelled all this way, she wanted to make it worth it. "Lenny, right?" she asked, turning back to face him.
"Yessum."
"Look, the event is about to start. Mind if we talk about this later instead?"
"Okay," he replied. Finally, Lenny crouched down and zipped his mouth.
Wamariri wouldn't have actually minded thanking Tumaini, but then again, the Siku Choka was about to begin, and then, she would be her enemy.
"I see your mom's starting near the outside," said Simba.
"Yes," replied Nala, "she was always explaining to me when I was a cub, how that was the clever thing to do. However, look where all the previous winners are starting."
Simba looked across the twenty-head-to-tail-lion-wide track, and observed that Nakshi, Uku, Guvu, and Juni were all either to the inside, or towards the middle.
"Well they have different styles," replied Simba, "you can't expect your mom to be at their level straight away. But hey, it's a whole day; she might be able to give them a run tomorrow."
"You're reading my mind," replied Nala.
The couple was both sitting down, anxious to watch the event start. They couldn't help but glance at Rafiki, standing next to his stick, again and again every two to three seconds. It was only a matter of time now.
Finally . . .
"Nala! Rafiki's giving the thumbs up," exclaimed Simba. He wasn't the only one to have noticed. First it was just a few cheers, then half the crowd was cheering, then, the whole audience was all sent standing to their feet, cheering.
In the infield, Kanafa picked up the loudspeaker.
"Competitors . . ." he began, the cheers picked up ever louder, ". . . ready . . ." he was really having to speak up now, ". . . set . . ." still growing ever louder, "and the twenty-fifth, ever, running of the Siku Choka is . . . GO!!!" he shouted. The crowd erupted, and the field moved off.