Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Cape Town Chaos Begins

Simba's first time on a plane felt like a village chicken attending a city funeral—confused, overdressed, and suspicious of everything.

At the Harare International Airport, Steve wore a tiny suit stitched from old church curtains, Natasha held three muffins marked "emergency only," and Pastor Wings was stuffed inside a fancy travel cage labelled "Prophet on Board." The immigration officer almost fainted when he saw Simba's support crew.

"You're all flying together?"

"Yes," Simba said proudly. "We are a package deal—one fake life, three complications, and a chicken with prophetic timing."

The flight to Cape Town was an adventure before it even took off. Steve demanded a window seat for inspiration. Natasha tried to put her muffins in the overhead compartment like luggage. Pastor Wings squawked every time someone coughed. And Simba, already sweating, asked the flight attendant whether turbulence could make prophecies inaccurate.

They landed in Cape Town to flashing lights, cameras, and a welcome sign that read:

"Welcome to the International Comedy Festival: Real Laughs from Fake Lives."

Simba's face was on a poster right next to a man juggling flaming bananas.

"Mom would be proud," he whispered. "Or very confused."

A luxury bus took them to the hotel. Steve pressed every button in the lift, thinking it was a game. Natasha went straight to the rooftop to test muffin aerodynamics. Pastor Wings refused to leave his cage until they gave him a bottled water and silence.

Later that night, they attended the festival opening ceremony.

The place was grand—red carpets, lights, strange celebrities with weirder names like DJ Emotional Damage and Lady Laughsalot. Simba wore a blazer that looked expensive but was rented and 100% anxiety inside.

A tall man in sunglasses approached.

"You Simba?"

"Yes," Simba replied.

"You're the only one here with a registered chicken manager. Respect."

Simba nodded. "Thanks. We're unconventional."

Suddenly, the host announced:

"Tomorrow night, Simba Gumbo from Zimbabwe will take the main stage. Known for his story 'The Legendary Fake Life,' he's promised us laughter, madness, and possibly muffins."

Cheers. Cameras. Lights.

Simba smiled. Then panicked.

Back in the hotel room, he paced.

"What if I mess up?"

Steve sat on a beanbag chair. "Then we fake confidence harder."

Natasha flipped through her muffin recipe book. "Or distract the crowd with snacks."

Pastor Wings was meditating.

But the next morning, madness struck.

Pastor Wings was gone.

His cage door was open. A note was left behind, written in scrambled pen:

"Gone to the ocean. Must find deeper prophecies."

Simba screamed. "The chicken ran away!"

Natasha gasped. "Without backup feathers!"

Steve was calm. "He's on a spiritual mission. Let him go. Or maybe he got sea-sick from the lift."

Simba ran down to the beach. There he found a crowd.

In the middle of it all, Pastor Wings.

Wings wide. Beak raised. Preaching to seagulls.

A tourist clapped. "This is art."

Another filmed. "He's healing the birds!"

Simba ran up. "Pastor Wings, you scared us!"

Pastor Wings squawked once and continued his sermon in chicken tongues.

The video went viral in minutes.

Back at the hotel, producers called.

"Simba, is this your bird?"

"Yes," Simba replied.

"He's incredible. We want him to close your set tomorrow. A live chicken preacher finale. Never been done!"

Simba gulped. "Okay. But he requires seed donations and one corn biscuit."

"Done."

The day of the show arrived.

Steve did push-ups to stay sharp. Natasha practiced muffin throwing. Pastor Wings soaked his claws in lemon water. And Simba wore the same blazer—but this time with courage underneath.

Backstage, he heard the crowd roar as other comedians performed. It was his turn.

He stepped out.

Lights hit him.

The crowd went silent.

He opened:

"Good evening Cape Town! I bring greetings from Zimbabwe. My village is so rural, even Google Maps still thinks it's a rumour."

Laughter.

"I started with nothing. Then I hired a chicken. Then the chicken became famous. Now I manage him and sleep in his old cage."

The crowd exploded.

He told stories—of muffins that exploded, of Pastor Wings prophesying during rainfall, of Steve trying to date parrots and being rejected for talking too much.

Then he paused.

"And now... for the legend himself. The prophet. The poultry. The beaked blessing… Pastor Wings!"

Spotlight.

The crowd gasped as Pastor Wings walked across the stage with theme music playing. He climbed a custom pulpit made of hay and plastic.

He looked out.

Flapped.

And squawked once.

The audience rose to their feet.

Simba dropped the mic. Steve threw feathers into the air. Natasha passed muffins to security guards. A little girl cried tears of joy. A man in the back whispered, "I just got saved by a chicken."

After the show, the festival director approached.

"You've just redefined comedy. The Legendary Fake Life is no longer fake—it's historic."

They were invited to dinner with other stars. Steve debated with a ventriloquist. Natasha got into a muffin bake-off with a chef from Ghana. Pastor Wings received three offers to start a cult, all politely declined.

Back in the hotel, Simba looked at his team.

"We did it. We're international."

Steve nodded. "Next stop—world tour?"

Natasha smirked. "Only if they provide decent ovens."

Pastor Wings just stared at the window and whispered one word:

"Hollywood."

Next Chapter: They return home to find the village preparing for elections, and Simba accidentally gets nominated for councillor... all because of a chicken prophecy.