Chorale Story

Australia & Aotearoa, 2025

June 16–29

Chapter 1

“Justin Wahby is so tuff. He walks around the airport looking so fine. The way he walks is so tough. I want to be like him when I grow up.”

They all said this in unison as they waited on the floor of SFO. As they waited, the three types of people eventually dispersed into their respective groups. The first was the people who didn’t play UNO. The second was the ones who did play but did not win. The third was Dennis. He won the most amount of games. He was tough. He had so much aura that he nearly started floating. Reaching new heights, scratch that.

Every morning at exactly 6 PM, the Stanford Chamber Chorale left campus on a giant bus to the same bakery to order the same almond croissant from a barista who had never once spelled their names correctly. Chorale liked routine. Chorale liked almond croissants. They liked pigeons less. On this particular Monday, as the planes stopped flying their scheduled flights and Katrina stopped craving a sweet treat, Chorale emerged with croissant in hand, only to find themselves at gate G7. They froze. The pigeons stared. One especially large specimen tilted its head and fluffed its feathers like it was ready to rumble. Chorale took a cautious bite of the communal croissant. The pigeon shuffled forward.

“No,” they whispered. “You don’t even like almonds.”

In a flurry of panic and pastry crumbs, Chorale ran down the block (terminal), flailing their luggage like a helicopter blade. Tourists mistook it for an airport concert and dropped a $10 bill at their feet.

Eventually, Chorale escaped down into the baggage claim, struggling to find the ice chests.

Once upon a time, in a lounge somewhere in SFO, Ifan Jenkins had a few drinks. The end.

The cow jumped over the fence.

Chapter 2

Chorale, staring longingly at the graceful cows frolicking outside the airplane windows, wished to join them, as the plane had been delayed for a seventh time, leaving them all in the depths of despair. Katelyn and Anna E. especially wished to stretch their legs on an easy-breezy 25-mile hike in freezing weather (all uphill), and wished the cows could come rescue them from the bowels of the plane. Kent, on the other hand, wished to stay longer and chat up a very intriguing flight attendant who made eye contact with him twice. *Wink wink*

Meanwhile, Julia and Akshar began a heated argument about whether or not they should play hot seat to pass the time, with a few others trying to intervene. There was so much chaos that everyone almost seemed to forget the fact that there were cows galloping outside on the airport tarmac—shouldn’t that be illegal?

Maïgane, looking up from her Love Island marathon, finally came to her senses: “Umm… I feel like it’s a bad thing that there are cows on the tarmac…”

Steve heard this and sighed, calling the airline for the 127th time in the past 24 hours.

He thought to himself, This better not be a bad omen…

Chapter 3

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Only time will tell as this tour progresses. I’m not a superstitious person, myself. Shit happens, and you can’t control that. What you can control is how you choose to respond when problems arise, and 48 hours later, we’d all managed to make some flight to Brissie!

Brissie is the local nickname for Brisbane, I learned from the attractive flight attendant on Quantas flight 79, and it isn’t taboo like San Fran is to San Francisco.

Quick segue—does having an Australian accent make one more attractive? Or are these properties independent? Moreover, does the same apply to British and/or Welsh accents? Perhaps… but now I’m realizing this may not be the best notebook to be contemplating this particular question. I digress.

After a quick respite in Brisbane, we were off to our first rehearsal with The Australian Voices, led by John Rotar. Here, we were introduced to the musical “isms” Down Under. (It took me an hour into rehearsal to realize that a quaver is not a bizarre vibrato.) For any who are still confused by Australian/British music notation, this poem should sort it out:

Chapter 4

It was time for Chamber Chorale to fly to Melbourne. Steve warned them that flying Jetstar was no easy feat.

As they approached security, John Rotar appeared.

“Hello everyone,” he said. “According to ChatGPT, your luggage can only weigh as much as one chihuahua. But—” he held up one finger. “You can board with as much as you can carry.”

Clarissa managed to shove one cube in each pocket. Maya placed her backpack on her head, carefully balancing her cap on top. Avoiding eye contact, Kent zipped his jacket over the koala he had stolen from Lone Pine.

“I don’t know about this…” Rotar began to approach Kent with concern, but Akshar quickly raised his hand.

“Hey, what’s a coda?”

And the rest of Chorale slipped away as Rotar brought out various diagrams for Akshar’s sake. Running low on time, Chorale ran toward the gate, but soon another adversary appeared. It was Stephen Leek, stone faced and towering over them.

“Anyone who sang over a rest during this tour shall not pass!” His voice boomed throughout the airport.

As several members of Chorale looked stricken, Anna Eaton stepped forward, revealing the laptop she’d hidden in her shirt. Stephen Leek was blinded by Anna’s Letterboxd reviews of every Lord of the Rings film.

“I’ll hold him off!” Anna cried, and Chorale ran for their lives.

Finally reaching their gate, one last man appeared in front of them. It was the man, the myth, the legend: Rob Latimer.

“Before you can board this aircraft, you must tell me the greatest love story ever told,” he said with a smile.

“Well,” Alex started, “there was once a lonely cockatoo with a crimson flower…”

Chapter 5

At the sound of such an alluring opening line, the rest of Chorale immediately put down the cold pizza they had been eating at the Normanby Hotel and hurriedly scurried over to the campfire for their favorite pastime, Story Time with Alex. Smugly satisfied at having ensnared the chorale’s attention, Alex continued.

“There was once a lonely cockatoo with a crimson flower, perched high on a power line above St. Brigid’s Catholic Church in Red Hill. He had made a habit of passing his days there ever since leaving his flock, and had not seen another cockatoo in many years—how many exactly he could not say, but it felt to be about as long as John Rotar had held the silence after performing his Mag & Nunc with the Chamber Chorale and the Australian Voices.”

As Alex’s subtle voice and vivid storytelling drew them in, the chorale felt themselves slipping ever deeper into the cockatoo’s world, and they gradually lost awareness of their reality. The campfire around which they sat grew cold. Its colors faded into darkness, and they were left alone. With a crash of drums, a flash of light, a seam opened beneath their feet, and suddenly the chorale found themselves high above the ground, perched upon the very same power line as the lonely cockatoo. Alex continued narrating, her voice now an ethereal emanation from the skies.

After such a discombobulating relocation, Maya felt it prudent to do a count-off.

“One!” she shouted. One by one, the chorale counted off.

“Nine!” “Ten!” There was a short lull.

“Eleven?” “Eleven!” “Who’s eleven?”

“Guys, don’t shout eleven! We can’t tell if they’re here if you all say eleven,” protested Akshar. There was a much longer lull.

“Eleven!” squawked the cockatoo. The chorale turned and sighted down the power line at the cockatoo.

“Cece, is that you?” said Linda, consulting the spreadshet.

“Yeah! I guess I’m the main character now.” squawked Cece the cockatoo. She looked down at the crimson flower clutched in her claw. “And, I guess I’m lonely. But this is a lovely flower.” The chorale murmured in acceptance and understanding.

The chorale continued their count-off.

“Fourteen!” “Fifteen!” Another lull.

From behind, a loud cry came swooping toward them.

“Sixteen!” called a second cockatoo, soaring above the chorale, tracing a broad arc in front of them and landing next to Cece.

“Seyi?” asked Linda. The second cockatoo turned to face the chorale.

“Yes.” said Seyi the cockatoo. “I can fly now.” she said raising one eyebrow and feeling pleased with herself. She turned back to face Cece.

“Say, that’s a lovely crimson flower.” squawked Seyi to Cece. “As a matter of fact, if you give it to me, I will be your friend.”

Cece considered the flower in her claw, and smiled, or did whatever cockatoos do to show joy.

“Wonderful,” she squawked.

Seyi took the flower in her beak, and as new friends, they spread their wings and together took flight northwest into the sunset. What would have been a beautiful ending to their story was unfortunately cut short, however, as Seyi noticed her left eye was bleeding and had to turn back before getting very far at all, and Cece’s flight was cancelled for unknown reasons. She vowed to try again a day later.

Just then, a ghastly gust arrived, threatening the chorale’s perch. Not being birds, and poorly practiced in the art of perching on power lines, the spectating chorale members began to lose their balance. (To be sure, it was admittedly impressive that they had managed to stay up there at all up to this point.) The wind blew east, and the wind blew west; it blew like the judgement day. And the Stanford Chamber Chorale, many of whom most likely never did pray, were indeed glad to pray that day.

As they all fell to their deaths, one by one, they snapped back to reality. There was their campfire once again, now expired, with only a few lingering embers sharing a faint glow. And there was Alex, smiling bemused at their shaken faces. Story Time with Alex was over. And in the east, the dawn was breaking, and the world was waking, as the chorale had whiled away the entire night listening to the story of the cockatoos.

“We had better get back; our next call time is in 30 minutes,” said Maïgane.

“But that really means 45 minutes,” said Justin.

Either way, it was time to go. And so, having woken from their dream in the gold of day, Chorale picked up and packed up from their campfire, when suddenly, through the air, they heard a calling from far away…

Chapter 6

One day, a Toby woke up in a slum with no idea of how he got there. He wandered around aimlessly before he found even one person who would talk to him. Some ratty beggar named Steve turned out to be nice enough to explain where he was.

“You’re in the afterlife!” Steve told the Toby, “But you must have been a real shithead when you were alive, because this is the fourth ring, and only the worst people come here.”

All of a sudden, a siren went off—one of those whooping air-raid klaxons. The Toby was terrified, but Steve got up calmly and lead him to a big, dilapidated warehouse where thousands of other similarly unkempt individuals were gathering. When the Toby asked why they were all there, Steve pointed to a line of folding tables against the wall. Each table had some moldy bread, cups of filmy water, and bowls of broth so thin they were practically water as well. Only then did Toby realize how hungry he was. A guard in heavy body armor blew a whistle, and all the people arranged themselves into three lines. Steve was helpful enough to explain them to the Toby.

“That one’s the bread line, that’s the broth line, and that’s the water line. All the food here is free, but if you want out of this shit hole, you’ve got to work, because the gate guards to the third ring ask a bribe of $500 to get through. I’ve heard the food is better there.”

The Toby got his food. As expected, it was abominable, and right then and there, he vowed to make $500 and get into the third ring. Unfortunately for him, very few people needed work in the afterlife, especially when all of them were also saving up to emigrate. Even still, after ten years of hard work and austerity, eating the moldy bread and indistinguishable soup and water, he finally saved up enough money.

The guards let him through, and he found himself in the third ring. It was nothing too fancy; if anything, it was a bit below average for a real city, but to his eyes it was paradise. All the guards looked much friendlier, and the houses and buildings, while not spacious or lavish, were at least up to code. And to his surprise, he ran into a familiar former beggar as he crossed the strreet.

“What are the odds?” they both asked, and they got to conversing.

Steve, it turned out, only managed to make it in himself a few months back. Their conversation was interrupted, however, by the sound of a school bell. When the man named Toby seemed confused, Steve led him to what looked like a giant gymnasium. Here, people were gathering once again, and the Toby began to understand. On a line of folding tables against one wall were stacks of hot dogs, big bowls of salad, and solo cups full of fresh lemonade. A cop shouted for everyone’s attention and directed them all to stand in three lines.

Steve turned and smiled at the Toby’s wonder and pointed to each line respectively: “That’s the hot dog line, that’s the salad line, and that’s the lemonade line.”

The Toby got in each line in turn and got himself his meal.

While he was eating, basking in the joy of not being forced to eat moldy bread and water, Steve went on: “The best part is, halfway through the year, they switch from hot dogs, salad, and lemonade to chicken, chili, and hot chocolate. You can never get tired of it!”

Sadly, this proved to be untrue. After only a few weeks, the Toby did again get tired of having the same meal every day. But he knew firsthand that he could improve his lot, so one day he went up to the wall of the second circle. This time, the guards asked for a bribe of $10,000. The Toby didn’t like it, but he figured he had his whole afterlife ahead of him, and now that he was removed from the hardships of the fourth circle, he could certainly take his time and save up. After already having done ten years of hard work, it wasn’t very difficult for him to slip back into old routines, and only twenty years later, he went back to the guards of the second ring with the money in hand. He went through the gate and found himself in a glitteringly clean city of glass and steel. And wouldn’t you know it, but there, standing across the street, was the same former beggar, only now he was wearing a well-fitted suit. The Toby greeted Steve as an old friend and they started talking. Once again, their conversation was interrupted, only this time it was by a resonant church bell.

“Come,” Steve told him, “I’ll take you to the evening meal.”

So the Toby followed, and they entered a glamorous ballroom filled with beautiful attendees. Even the guards here looked good, dressed in suits and sunglasses like well-heeled bodyguards. And sure enough, piled onto platters on huge mahogany tables against the far wall were plates of steak, bowls of delicious seafood soups, and glasses of fine champagne. One of the bodyguards cleared his throat politely and requested that the attendees line up. Three lines were formed, and Steve pointed each line out in turn.

“That’s the steak line, that’s the soup line, and that’s the champagne line,” and then he added, “and apparently here, they change the meals four times a year!”

The Toby rejoiced, ate, and felt happy. For the first time, he felt that nothing was lacking. Four changes a year was enough for him. But one day, out of curiosity, he went up to the bodyguards that ringed the gate into the first and highest ring of the afterlife and found they charged a toll of a million dollars to pass. The Toby was a little disturbed by this enormous sum—after all, he felt the second ring seemed perfect to him. What is it, he mused, that could possibly be more perfect than what exists here? The question haunted him for weeks until he finally came to a resolution. He was used to working hard, and he had all of eternity to save up, so he wanted, just once, to see what he could possibly be lacking in the first ring. Fifty years later, he returned to the bodyguards with a million dollars. When he stepped into the first ring he fell to his knees. The architecture was glorious beyond human imagination, and the bodyguards had transformed into shining angels. To his surprise, someone helped him off of his knees, and when he looked, he was shocked to realize who it was—it was Steve, the beggar he had met 100 years ago in the fourth ring, now adorned in a golden robe and glowing with ethereal light. When he looked down, he realized that he himself looked much the same. Steve laughed jovially.

“I only got here a few years ago myself, but somehow I knew you would be right behind me. I’ve come back to the gate every day waiting for you to make it in!”

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of an angelic choir, and Steve led the Toby off to a monumental palace made out of crystal and marble. The room was filled with radiant beings of the first circle and angels were preparing everything. Sensing a familiar pattern, the man looked to the far wall and sure enough, there was a line of massive altars, spilling over with glistening golden dragon meat, a pudding refined of clouds and dew, and an ice cold tub of ambrosia and nectar ladled out into beautiful crystalline chalices. An angel fluttered down from the ceiling and bowed silently to the assembled mass, who respectfully bowed back and divided themselves into lines on their own. Smiling at the ritual, Steve pointed to the first line.

“That’s the line for the dragon meat,” he said before turning to the next line, “and here is the line for angelic stew.” He paused and frowned.

“What is it?” the Toby asked his old friend.

Steve replied, “There appears to be no punch line.”

█ A ███ m ███ o ███ g ███ u █████ s █████ “¡Amogus!” The end. 💯💯💀🤖.

Chapter 7

And thus it dawned on the Stanford Chamber Chorale. In an instant, their mood changed from eager anticipation at the prospect of performing in the warm glorious acoustics of Wesley Church (Melbourne) to that of sheer panic. Ice trickled down their spines as they collectively realized the same thing: there was a traitor in their midst. But who?! Who would wish to jeopardize their months of hard work and preparation by stealing Justin’s music folder just as they were about to take to the stage?!

“Look, over there!” exclaimed eagle-eyed kangaroo farmer Kent.

As the group’s heads turned to the church door, they gasped as one, collectively recognizing the unmistakable bouncing gait and fetching jacket sunglasses combo that could only belong to him: Kangaroo Joe! With a cheeky wink and evil grin, he tucked Justin’s music folder under his arm, turned on his tail, and was gone.

So many questions…

“Why would he do that?!” yelled Minseung.

“Where’s he gone?!” queried Seyi.

“What’s a coda?” wondered Akshar.

Then, realising the gravity of the situation, Akshar looked around and pleaded, “Quick, let’s get after him!” in his booming cannon voice, famous for its ability to render Australia’s answer to Mozart, John Rotar, in urgent need of some privacy.

“No! It’s a trap!” retorted reliable Rob. “We need to stay calm and devise a plan to get that music back.”

“You’re right, Rob. Patience is a virtue,” offered Julia. “But who will lead us?”

“How about Garrett? He’s Steve’s favorite after all,” suggested Maya.

“No, I think he’s still trying to get his Speedos through customs at Brisbane,” replied Maïgane. “Besides, he needs a leader so he can ask them unnecessary questions.”

“Maybe Anna Eaton? She seems keen,” chimed in Kailamae.

“No, she’s still selling some clothes at Melbourne Airport so her bag can be allowed in the hold,” lamented Clarissa.

“Well who else is there?!” exclaimed an exasperated Cece. “Katelyn’s away on her one-day lap of Australia, Chibby’s been tucked up in bed since last Tuesday, and I haven’t seen Dennis or Katrina since they conveniently ended up with individual rooms in Rotorua…”

“Ugh I know!” chipped in Sofia. “Even Toby can’t lead us as he’s busy washing his multipurpose concert black-come-casual wear-come-pyjamas.”

“And Justin can’t handle any more pressure right now after his recent success rate!” offered Diego.

“I’ve got it!” announced Anna Klein. “It’s got to be Baba! Calm, collected, and reliable; he’s the one who should lead us!”

As Eddie, Alex, and Zoe uttered words of support, the cold Melbourne church’s congregation felt comfortable again. They were all in agreement. Even Steve et al nodded their approval from a place somewhere over the Pacific, just before befalling yet another medical diversion.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” said Baba. “Here’s the plan.”

But no sooner had he began when the room around them blurred and a mirage descended (much like the perfect fifth at the end of Kondalilla). And then, as quickly as it had descended, the mist cleared, revealing a jaw-dropping new reality. From their vantage point upon a bank of a roaring river, they saw before them a land untouched: luscious flora, snow-capped peaks, and teeming wildlife. And then they realised: they must be the first humans to have reached the Horn of Africa.

Chapter 8

They congratulated themselves on their fantastic feat of “colonization” and burst out into song for an ad hoc concert. As they assembled into formation, one member of the choir was nowhere to be found.

“Where in the world is Justin?” whispered Zoe, who looked far and wide. “Oh! There he is,” she said as she found him rustling in the bushes scrambling to find his music like a fool.

When he finally made it to the stage, he realized he needed to pee for the fifth time in the last hour, but the choir had already begun singing Regina Caeli. Much to Justin’s dismay, he was forced to pee down his legs discreetly, or so he thought. An awful stench filled the air, but he reassured everyone saying, “Don’t worry, it’s just the natural geothermal sulfur!”

Maya looked at him in disgust and thought to herself, this idiot doesn’t know the difference between New Zealand and South Africa.

As the choir proceeded through their concert set, Akshar unfortunately kept singing “dipilonlon dipili dipili” past the cutoff because he was not familiar with the specialized Australian musical notation called the coda. In an attempt to console Akshar, Garrett shared that he too had made a lot of mistakes this year. When Chibby asked him to clarify, he said, “Yeah, I have made a lot of mistakes this academic year.”

What a bewildering bloke, Chibby thought to himself, which was rich coming from the fellow who belongs in a psych ward himself.

To compensate for his musical ignorance, Akshar subjected Eddie to a two-hour rant mansplaining the intricacies of American liberal politics in between bites of kangaroo. The next day, Akshar couldn’t get the song A Voice from Heaven out of his head, and he strolled through the field belting, “A HOMO, A HOMO FRAGILIS.”

“What did you just call me?” said Kent, who was listening nearby.

Yet another musical blunder by Akshar resulted in the brawl of the century. The chorale members gathered around to witness the legendary fight between Akshar and Kent.

Chapter 9

The two weaved between the geysers at Te Pūia. Soon the geysers began to let out an ominous hum.

“Quick!” Diego shouted, “they need a sacrifice to calm them!”

Justin quickly shoved Akshar—who was gearing up to fight—into the geyser.

“Whoops. Sorry, he was standing in the way of someone out of my league I wanted to fail flirting with,” Justin said.

Ifan started crying as his dear buddy—the one he lovingly slipped ice cubes down shirts with—was murdered.

Kent was hit with mixed emotions. Sure, he avoided a fight, but he didn’t want a death! Thus, he resolved to fix this wrong by getting revenge on the one who started it all—Chibby. (Chibby had been craving drama so started spreading malicious rumors about how Akshar despised Kent. Of course this was false, but they had spread, and the fire was started.)

To start his revenge, Kent elicited the help of an unassuming source—Kimi. Kimi was a bit quiet on revenge plans but willing to help for the sake of a little excitement. She unfortunately was a bit too nice for revenge. Therefore, Katrina stepped up to the plate. She first bitch-slapped Chibby. Then she sang a very high pitch A (but really more of an A flat) into Chibby’s ears to finish him off.

Once applause erupted for justice for Akshar, she said, “Oh my godddd, stop.”

Dennis, hating that the attention was off his Hinge profile, erupted into bass-ly range. He screeched at Kailamae, also sacrificing her to the geysers, leading them to erupt. With two human sacrifices, the geysers began to erupt uncontrollably, threatening to coat the chorale in its eruption. 😉

Chapter 10

Why Toby had eaten the roadkill bin chicken, nobody knew. All Chorale knew was that they had tried to talk him out of it, but he had done it nonetheless and was now so severely food poisoned that he was going to explode any minute.

“Wow, this is the worst airplane medical emergency to date,” remarked Seyi. “Even worse than the eye bleeding lady.”

“Hurry! Open the emergency exit door before he detonates!” cried Sofia.

“It’s stuck! We’re trapped,” replied Maïgane, eager to leave expediently as usual.

Diego immediately flung himself at the door with the ferocity of a Rotoruan driver on their way to run down a pedestrian at a poorly-signed crosswalk. Thud. It was no use. Julia deployed the Rotorua primary school kindergartener that was still glued to her angle to go and thwack its iPad against the door. Still to no avail. Several overweight carry-ons were hurled. The door remained shut. Second by second, Toby inflated closer to a terrifying pressure and size.

“This is very cool! I’ve never felt this way before!” he chattered happily.

“Let me through!” shouted Alex, brandishing her fists. “I call this one Mag and this one Ninc and they’re gonna punch that door down!”

With a heroic swing, Alex’s fist crashed into the door, which flew off into the Pacific Ocean thousands of feet below.

“We have to jump!” cried Zoe over the roar of the wind as the door slide rafts splashed down into the water below.

“I’ll go first!” Kent volunteered. He was too big to fit through the door.

With some shoving from Dennis, Kent was sent screaming down into the waves. The rest of Chorale followed in a cacophany of shouting and flailing that John Rotar would have killed to sound-sample for his next composition.

Sploosh! Splash! “Let’s count off!” Maya yelled over the waves.

“One!” “Two!” “Three!”

“Where’s Katrina?” asked Anna K.

“Too late! Call time was five minutes ago! Bus is leaving!” Rob yelled back.

She was still on the plane. Or getting coffee to bring back at an inappropriate moment.

Sodden singers flopped one by one onto the life raft. Katelyn began paddling immediately, because her contingency plans for such a situation were in fact on page 108 of her Google Doc and she knew we had 349 miles to cover by group dinner.

As Baba climbed onto the raft, a deafening Bang! yanked everyone’s gaze upward. A fiery ball lit up the sky as shrapnel, sparks, and a yellow water bottle rained down. The bin chicken poisoning had gotten the better of Toby.

“Man, how am I supposed to declare this at customs now?” mused Garret forlornly as bits of Toby rained down on them.

The damp and biohazardous chorale drifted off in their castaway raft further into the Pacific.

Chatper 11

“Well, at least we’re all together,” Baba said sunnily, doing what he did best and instantly raising Chorale’s spirits. “We’ll be able to reach a mud bath and clean ourselves off in no time.”

“As long as there’s no more bad luck,” Chibby muttered under his breath, immediately looking to his left at Julia and erupting into peals of laughter.

“And I can fart as much as I want without anyone noticing,” Akshar chuckled.

“I’m so hungry,” Eddie sighed. “It’s been exactly 18 hours since I last had boba.”

Everyone started tossing out ideas for how to get food. Garrett offered to jump into the ocean fully-clothed to find a fish. Anna K started posting stories on Instagram to see if anyone could find Chorale a ride home, receiving only a very enthusiastic message from John Rotar after Steve reposted on Facebook.

“Guys, guys!” Rob called over the hungry clamor. “Don’t fret! Look what I have!” From behind his back, silhouetted against the gathering gloom of an oncoming storm, he whipped out…

“A grazing platter!” Kent shouted with his resonant tenor voice, just as the raft was hit with a sudden bolt of lightning. Everyone disappeared in a cloud of egg-smelling smoke, and when it cleared, they looked at each other in horror.

“Aaaah!” Dennis and Akshar bellowed in their low bass voices, which they’d managed to retain even in their new furry forms.

“Moo!” Katrina shrieked adorably, hopping around in distress. The lightning strike had transformed the entire group into the Stanford Chamber Cow-rale, a herd of trampling hooves that clambered anxiously around the raft. The only person who’d been spared was Kimi, but even she had turned into a koala, still clad in her very fashionable claw clip and jacket.

“How will we sing if we are cows?” Toby mooed, turning himself around in circle like was creating a hot tub lazy river.

“We’ll make it work somehow,” Minseung said hopefully.

“Will I need to declare myself at customs?” Garrett asked anxiously.

Suddenly, the words Eat Me appeared on the one bag still left on the raft.

“What’s that?” Cece asked, trotting closer to investigate. Alex suddenly mooed and ran in front of it, shielding it protectively with her furry body.

“Alex, let us see,” Diego said soothingly. Begrudgingly, Alex moved and let Kimi use her opposable thumbs to open the bag, revealing a thousand-piece stockpile of Konjak jellies.

“The jellies will save us!” Ifan cried, in his gorgeous vibrato. “We must become de-cowed!”

Chapter 12

With that, the group stuffed their mouths with jellies and returned to their humanoid forms. They thought they were in the clear, but suddenly a swagman leaped down at them from a kooliba tree!

He grabbed Garrett (with glee) and yelled, “If you want to save your precious Rookie of the Year, the sopranos and altos must sing the Shaw dotted eighth notes correctly!”

The choir cried and wept bitterly, as they knew this was impossible.

“I’ve got an idea to save Garrett!” Minseung cried. “We need to have the O Salutaris soloists sing to blast the swagman from the tree!”

Cece and Katrina with one huge “Beee—lllllaaa” (Bella) shot the swagman from the tree and he dropped Garrett into Minseung’s waiting arms. The swagman jumped away into the forest with a mournful “wo wo wo wo.”

Excited to be reunited, the chorale sat together in a circle and started knitting with Maïgane. Maïgane knit a beautiful blue sweater, Alex crocheted a stuffed duck, and Clarissa knit a hood with a skull on it, because she loves death. Members of Chorale started to fight over who should get these masterpieces. Alex and Diego, the more emo-inclined chorale members, wanted Clarissa’s hood. Dennis, on the other hand, wanted the duck plushie so he could give it as a gift to whatever girl on Hinge he was talking to that day. Kimi-Ann, who was constantly cold in the Aussie and New Zealand winter, was desperate for Maïgane’s sweater. It was decided that there would be a competition to decide who got each item. The challenge? To climb the monkey bars as long as possible.

As most of the chorale was old and decrepid (over 21), they lacked the upper arm strength and child-like whimsy to hold on to the monkey bars for long. Each member dropped off except for the strongest three: Kent, Minseung, and Garrett. But, since all of them were too nice to take the sweater, duck, and hood for themselves, they instead donated them to the Rotorua Primary School kids who were the real champions of the monkey bars anyway.

The kids were delighted. They wouldn’t stop giving chorale members their snacks in exchange.

Chapter 13

Luckily, Anna and Garrett packed everything away into their packs to set off on a grand 76-mile hike. However, unfortunately, they were not gifted any kale, so Garrett picked up a head of kale at the grocery store to eat in the car.

On their adventure, as Minseung was carefully driving along the left side of the road, a storm erupted! Massive torrents of rain started to gush down and just when they thought they were going to be stranded, they received a very exciting text:

I’m coming to get you! Stay there and I’ll come pick you up.
—Rob (tour guide)

What amazing news! thought Katelyn. “When will you be here?” she asked.

Soon. —Rob

Two hours passed. Katelyn, who is such a patient, patient person, started running laps around the car, wishing she could eat some of Garrett’s kale.

Four hours later:

The choir has “dinner independent” so be there soon! —Rob

Three hours of grazing platters later, Rob arrived and rescued the now very very wet travelers. As he drove, he started to talk about US politics, which was quickly getting spicy, so Anna started loudly singing the Gollum song, “So Juicy SWEEEEEEET!” Confused, Rob drove the group to the 10,000th bar of the trip for dinner.

“I just can’t eat any more burgers!” said…

Chapter 14

…Seyi and Ifan.

Frustrated, they packed up their bags and got on a return flight home. It is an urban legend that their plane has yet to depart. Deeply dismayed, Chorale, in search of a new source of lightheartedness, visited the Rotorua Primary School. They were greeted with the most loving children and regained joy. Back on the bus, the members began their count-off per usual.

“Nine. Ten. Eleven. …?”

Yes, number twelve, Julia, had been kidnapped by the kids. Thus began Chorale’s mission to rescue Julia. Mission name? Okarito.

When the group tried to re-enter the premises of the school, they were met with less hospitality and more four muscular, half-naked men wielding fearsome taiahas.

“Not again…” muttered Steve, who secretly enjoyed being the chief of the group again, since he would re-seize dictatorship and deny the democratic requests for Lux Aurumque.

After the fifteen-minute entry ceremony in the cold finally concluded, Chorale made an offering of Katrina’s iPad to the kids. We know this was a significant offering, as it included many #FYP TikToks. Much to the group’s chagrin, the school was an Apple Distinguished School with a boat load of iPads.

Once the diplomatic approach was thwarted, the group turned to a more confrontational approach: each member suggested a quartet of some sort with one member per voice part and selected one quartet. It’s unclear who the soprano and alto were, but the tenor and bass were definitely Kent and Ifan. They performed a piece of psychological warfare: A Voice from Heaven. Unfortunately, even this did not impress the kids, who seemingly had infinite, untamable energy.

The group was at a loss for ideas. Katelyn, however, had been drafting a 20-page Google Doc with plans for infiltration. Impressed by this preparation, the group decided to follow her lead. They were all made to wake up at 5 AM and eagerly awaited her orders. Unfortunately, they spent the whole day looking for waterfalls.

Stymied, the group gathered for a meal at the end of the day before trying again the next day. Unfortunately, the bus had to leave, so no food was had.

In the morning, they gathered in front of the school again. After a quick moment, Sofia, with her astute observation, remembered the kids’ one weakness. She stood at the front and put her hands on her head. Immobilized, the kids could do nothing but watch Kailamae rescue Julia from them.

Chapter 15

Julia took one of the kids with her.

Freed from her confinement, Julia was finally able to enact her evil plan: the takeover and annexation of Rotorua Primary School. Of course, this was an illegal overthrow, and it was acknowledged as such by president Zoe Quake at the time. However, she did not win reelection, and the new president Maya Xu was a pro-Chorale-expansionist.

Julia now had access to all the adorable children she could ever want. Eventually, a rebel faction led by Anna K and Clarissa attempted to depose Julia. Alas, the despot’s right-hand sorcerer, Robert, used his powers to thwart the attempt. Placing his hands on the rebels’ shoulders, he transmogrified them… into cows! Thus, he cursed them to only eat grazing platters forevermore. It began to look like the Chorale regime would rule over the primary school forever.

However, just as the Lord delivered Daniel, he eventually delivered the Rotoruan children from the fiery furnace of our oppression. Their deliverance came in the form of a car. A car driven by Eddie and Baba. A car gifted to them by a proprietor of a local restaurant. A car which hit Julia as she was crossing the street, ending her reign. Were these principled freedom-fighters looking to topple a monarch, or did Julia just forget to look the other direction when crossing the street? We may never know.

To celebrate the end of the dictatorship, the group headed out to a restaurant. They were informed by the waiter that they should only order appetizers, since the kitchen was closing.

“Appetizer? I hardly know ’er!” exclaimed Diego to a chorus of groans.

Conversation turned to the group’s upcoming concert. Sofia said, “I’m excited we get to sing the Whitacre—”

“Whitacre?” interjected Clarissa. “I hardly know ’er!”

Chastened by the glares she received, Clarissa allowed Sofia to continue, “I was gonna say, I’m excited we get to sing the Whitacre for our last show in Rotorua.”

Exchanging a conspiratorial look, Diego and Clarissa said in unison, “Rotorua? I hardly know ’a!”

Having had enough of Diego and Clarissa’s antics, Chibby took out a gun and shot them both, killing them instantly.

Chapter 16

Death.

Do you fear it? Maybe that’s the wrong question. What about, do you fear an end?

Symphonies end, school ends, friendships end.

They are no real end. After a symphony comes applause. After school comes a job. After a feud come new people. Death is slightly more complicated.

Forgive my musings, I do not intend to breed conflict. My question does not hinge on whether one believes in some afterlife or not. Rather, I ask you to consider the end to existence here. Or maybe, what people will say after. The dove flutters its feathers for a last time then falls to eternal sleep. The dog might come and sniff its silken feathers then leave it be. Another dove passing on. No eternal remembrance from the other birds. Do you fear becoming the dove?

Not even in death, but in transition. You move on to one place, and does the past remember? What epilogue follows your name?

Let me appease the frustration and write the first lines.

Seyi: bold generosity
Diego: distinct respect
Ifan: playful love
Minseung: deliberate wisdom
Cece: unconditional understanding
Julia: consistent altruism
Justin: dedicated mentorship
Sofia: graceful agency
Toby: inquisitive honesty
Maïgane: powerful care
Baba: selfless

Perhaps the epilogue matters little to you. Frankly, I don’t care. Perhaps I fear not saying what must be said before one end or another. So humor me. There are no doves in my life. Every bird has a name, a nest, and a song with which it graced me. The song isn’t really one of words, but the epilogues are my best attempt.

I collect songs, try to share them where I can, then rest grateful knowing that I carry them beyond an end. The symphony has its melodies. School has its lessons. Friends have their love. I carry them. And I carry you.

Ends do not exist.

Chapter 17

However, if Steve’s hands signal a cut off and you do not cease creating sound, your end will be everyone in Chorale whispering about you after the show. After all, Baba’s forlorn cough drops and their dramatic plunge are cemented into Chorale history.

Many things blossom on a Chorale tour, from a deepening of choral cohesion amongst everyone except the tenors, to the love John Rotar has with his own mind *cue 7-minute pause post-Nunc*, to Steve’s love for concerted spirituals from the antebellum South—wait, I mean the Black Slave South, my bad—where resilient enslaved people used music as a method of resistance and community building. But the biggest blossom of our quest had to be the one true love of Minseung Choi, his hiking crocs (in sport mode, of course).

This romance was quite scandalous, naturally, because all crocs are betrothed to Alex. Alex loved crocs so much that she almost brought them to the Melbourne concert, eager to upstage the Trinity College Choir with the neon yellow crocs. However, she was upstaged by the Trinity soloist’s mysterious illness that prevented her from joining Cece on O Salutaris Hostia. The mysterious illness also mysteriously disappeared when Trinity sang their own piece. Curious. Nonetheless, the show went on.

Throughout the journey, many sacrificed their loves and joys to the choral deities to seek favor in vocal prowess and tuning (because God knows we needed help on that front). Kailamae offered her juiciest story about her sorority and the sketchy boys of Stanford. Clarissa offered a blood sacrifice. But don’t worry, it was just the blood of that one guy in the Australian Voices who was doing too much in Kalkadunga Yurdu. We cannot be upstaged. Anna E. offered a morsel of her infinite knowledge. She had so much, she didn’t miss it. Chibby and Katrina squeaked and repeated Okarito 88 times. This both irritated and amused the choral gods, which was coincidentally the same effect it had on Chorale. I’m being generous here. Anyway, the remaining Chorale gifts were insignificant enough that the Chorale gods were pleased.

But then, Dennis, ever the contrarian, decided to speak to everyone’s chagrin.

Dennis shouted, “I don’t believe in the choral gods. We define our own destiny.”

Chapter 18

“We Define Our Own Destiny” Draft 1

Pre-chorus:
Eating ’roo wishing for some celery
What’s a coda? Akshar asks repeatedly
Garrett throws himself into the sea
At karaoke, Maïgane sings Valerie
Baba hits the luge, not so successfully
Minseung needs to use the coach’s lavatory
Bubble tea pregaming with Eddie
We define our own destiny!

Chorus:
AUGHHH!!! (in the spirit of Rotar)

Chapter 19

“Wait Steve!!” Akshar interjected, “Do we all breathe in measure 62?”

The Chorale let out a collective groan, as Steve answered the question for the third time.

“Enough!!” Minseung bellowed. “Akshar. You have asked your last redundant question. By the power vested in me by my 8-year PhD, I move to put you on Chorale trial.”

Suddenly, the surroundings started to shift and Chorale found themselves in a court room. Zoe emerged from the judge’s chambers and took her seat.

“Order! Order!” She settled her gaze on Akshar. “How do you plead?” she asked Akshar.

“Your honor, though I can’t refute the charges, I plead not guilty by reason of insanity—you must understand!! I’ve been subjected to so many mandatory individual group dinners!”

The jury nodded with understanding. They knew that too many mandatory individual group dinners could bring even the strongest to their limit.

“Plus!” Akshar added, “if you kick me out of Chorale, who is going to sing the last Okarito solo??”

After much deliberation, the courtroom settled.

Zoe rose from the judge’s seat and announced, “Akshar Sarvesh, you have been found guilty, but I am sympathetic to your case. Therefore, you will instead serve your sentence through one year of social chair work.”

Chapter 20

(Please read John Rotar’s lines in Aussie accent.)

One chilly evening during end of Winter Quarter, everyone was in Braun Rehearsal Hall… except Steve. It was 7:03 and he was still not there.

“Um guys, do you know where Steve could be right now?” Cece asked.

“Dunno,” Dennis shrugged, preoccupying himself with thinking of what to text Maria from Hinge next.

“HE’S BEEN REPLACED!” A big booming Australian low voice emerged from the entrance. “By ME.”

“John Rotar?” Anna K exclaimed. “What happened to Steve?!”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. I think Chorale needs some work. He’s on a break. I’m here to just help.”

Everyone started warming up, but John immediately stopped them as they reached the arpeggios.

“ENOUGH!” he screamed. “You guys are still way too in tune. You guys need to be even more sharp! So sharp we can’t recognize what key we’re in!”

Then, as they got to the first song, John stopped them.

“We’re scrapping all this church repertoire! We will only sing songs with overtones, animal noises, and retching, guttural screams that make even your deaf grandmother go ‘eh?’”

“Why are you doing this?!” Maya stepped in. “We want Steve back. This isn’t who we are!”

“You’re right. You guys don’t know who you are at all.” John shook his head. “I’ve decided to rename you… the Multicultural Voices.”

All of a sudden, everyone started talking and shouting at John Rotar as he nodded his head triumphantly.

“Yes… yesss… the cacophany. But you guys need to speed up way more. You guys need to go faster. Go incredibly fast.”

He started conducting erratically, but he started going so fast that he lost consciousness and got a seizure. Poor John Rotar.

Chapter 21

But fear not! Someone special in the crowd was waiting for this moment—the moment of John Rotar’s demise. This person had been waiting decades in the depths of the boiling mud baths. Every day he would emerge from his muddy kingdom and observe closely to see if he could sense John Rotar’s shaking hands as he conducted. Every time he felt his mud bath shake, he sank back into his grimy, creamy mud hole, feeling slightly more depressed than the last time he heard Kalkadunga Yurdu. Someone else had been in close contact with this mystery mud man, and that person was our very own Jefferson. Jefferson spent hours on the phone with this mystery mud man, comforting him from his sorrows. Now you may be wondering who this mystery man is… well, it’s none other than Stacey Garrett!

Stacey Garrett knew of Rotar’s death before it happened, because Linda had magic powers that predict the future from a yuzu juice that she drank, and Linda told Stacey Garrett that he’d finally be free from his mud bath.

“Okarito!” Garrett exclaimed when he heard the joyous news.

He’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. As he emerged from his mud bath, he began humming page 11 of Shaw—everyone’s favorite part.

After a few grazing platters, he hopped on his kangaroo and rode over to the the Australian Voices concert. Now, a few members of Chorale were missing from this concert. Of course this angered Steve, but no one could tell because of his deadpan stagnant expression. Katelyn had already hiked and swam to the South Island, Maïgane was busy catching possums and knitting with their fur, and Toby was asleep under his bed. They all missed the show-stopping moment of the concert—John Rotar’s collapse and Stacey Garrett’s thundering “OKARITO!” as he leaped up from the pews and was ready to take over the world.

Chapter 22

Meanwhile, in Toby’s mind, a sheep stood on an idyllic but secretly geothermically active green knoll. It was wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

Why is there a sheep? How do I intuitively know this hill is geothermically active? wondered Toby. Perhaps I was counting sheep. Am I supposed to count this one now? I never was very good at counting.

Toby looked around and saw a few more sheep, and his resolve gathered. He was supposed to count these sheep, and then he could wake up.

Toby walked a bit up the hill to introduce himself to the Hawaiian shirt sheep. “Hello, I am Toby. Who are all of you guys?”

“Hi Toby, my name is Shteve,” said the sheep seriously. “We have a close connection to the island nation of Hawaii.”

Toby looked over to the other sheep around the hill. “Do you need help counting these sheep?” asked Toby.

Shteve nodded.

Toby walked down the hill to begin. First, he saw three sheep standing in a cluster. One of them looked incredibly disheveled and wet, save for perfect black eyeliner. The other two were distracted, aggressively massaging each other.

“Hi there,” said the black eyeliner sheep. “Would you like to hear about death?”

Scared, Toby turned away.

“Wait, I can tell you about kicking children!” yelled one of the other two.

Toby fled quickly. 1, 2, 3.

Next, Toby approached two sheep who looked up at him forlornly. One was surrounded by little lambs.

“Hey there swag man, do you happen to have a spare iPad?” they asked.

“No, sorry” said Toby. He watched as the little lambs tackled the first sheep to the ground.

The second sheep turned to him and asked again, “Sorry, just to clarify, do you have a spare iPad? I forgot your answer that you told me two seconds ago.”

Toby repeated his answer, but his conversation partner was distracted by a new sheep yelling.

“I don’t think that merino sheep should experience affirmative wool selection just because they’re Merino!” exclaimed the newcomer. 4, 5, 6.

Toby saw a sheep aggressively chasing down a kiwi bird, making biblically accurate bird calls. 7.

Nearby stood two sheep, one with a very swoopy toupee and the other seemingly in distress. A third sheep ran over, yelling, “I’ll save you!!!!” and stabbed the distressed sheep in the leg.

“NOOO but now I can’t go to the sheep boat!!” said the distressed sheep.

“This sheep is going to die,” deadpanned a fourth sheep looking very authoritative in a stethoscope, whose sense of humor is just pathologically lying. 8, 9, 10, 11.

“AHHHHHH”

What is that noise? thought Toby. A nearby dog perked his ears. That certainly must be the highest pitch I’ve ever heard.

“MY FRIEND WONT TEXT ME BACK.” – “I HAVE TO GO TO THE WEDDING OF A DENTIST.” – “OHH SALUTARIS,” declaim two sheep who are soprano 1s and one sheep who is a soprano 1 but cosplaying as a soprano 2. 12, 13, 14.

A small cluster of sheep ran around the pasture, seemingly doing laps—for what reason Toby was unclear. A small rain cloud seemed to be following above their heads. They were being chased by a man with a crook in his hand, who was attempting to herd them. One of the sheep looked up at the rain pouring down on their little sheep faces.

“WATERFALL!!!” this sheep exclaimed joyfully, and then ran off, glaring intensely at the shepherd, the other sheep in tow, muttering something about fish. “8 million steps!!” 14, 15, 16, 17, 18.

“All I want is to be done counting these sheep!” exclaimed Toby.

“ALLLLL I WANTTTT for christmassssss is YOUUUUU,” replied a sheep to his left. 19.

Three sheep sat on top of a nearby bluff, raptly watching the chaos below. Toby walked up toward them through the muddy grass, thinking perhaps they had a clue as to what was going on, but they provided little aid.

“Shhhhh, gotta catch up on the action,” explained the first sheep. “Don’t want to be a day behind.”

“No spoilers!” said the second.

The third didn’t respond, seemingly engrossed in plucking the loose wool from the backs of the other two and twisting it around some twigs into a fuzzy mass. 20, 21, 22.

One sheep wearing a protruding tan hood went over to try to talk to some sheep on a neighboring hillock, but they were all clustered around another sheep whose head wool had been trimmed into a shape that was marginally more triangular than the traditional sheep head. 24.

“Finally! Twenty five!” Toby said.

Hearing this, the triangularly-headed sheep began to scream loudly, “tweeeenttttyyyy fiveeeee,” and the hooded sheep, irritated, rushed at him, yelling “OKARITO” (Toby heard Stacey Garrett say this through his dream state).

Immediately, this summoned all the tenor sheep, who began to rush at Toby, chanting “o-ka-ri-to.”

Toby began to regain consciousness slowly with a throbbing headache.

“Shteve! Shteve! SHTEVE! The tenors are rushing!” shouted Toby, leaping from the ground with a start. However, in doing so, he hit his head on the piano and fell to the ground next to the already unconscious Rotar.

Stacey Garrett, his face lit by the dramatic pink and blue spotlights, stood and said, “Now, I will commence my plan for world domination!”

Chapter 23

The audience gasped and looked at the cunning and ominous Garrett—Stacey Garrett—as he prepared his next words.

With a ponderous tone, Garrett orated, “You see, my origin story is as follows: I started off my music career wanting to be a composer. I graduated summa cum laude from Samford University’s composition program. Did I mention it was Samford, not Stanford? Damn, I hate that dang school in Palo Alto—people confused the two schools, and after a while I stopped correcting them. I even went as far as to attend some classes at Stanford after Samford. I remember finding myself a nice space in the Crothers basement and moving a nice TV inside as well. Anyways—back to the classes. I recall taking Steve’s Introduction to Choral Music. It was here where all started to go wrong. I’d written some choral music in the past, but every time I’d write a piece for the class, the TA, Mia Robinson, would never approve. It was actually at one point where Stacey Gibbs came to give a guest lecture in the class. This was on the topic of one of Steve’s modules—The Black Slave South. I had heard how much people loved Stacey Gibbs’s music, which I hated to a tee. I mean, come on! What kind of Hebrew chills on the fiery furnace? It was shortly after his lecture where I took him out. Not on a date. I removed him from the history textbook. In spiteful memorium, I renamed my first name after that dreadful composer. And my last name, well… DENNIS, get off your phone. Why the hell are you always on Hinge all the time? The baddies don’t like you like that! They like me like that… hehehehehe.”

Stacey Garrett proceeded to grab the phone from Dennis’s supple and hoeless hands and throw it all the way to Baba as he struggled to finish luging after 10 fucking [if you don’t want to use this word, just use freaking] hours.

Stacey Garrett continued his oratorio as follows: “Alright, where was I? Oh yes—my last name. Well, I could explain its origin, but no one really knows who Marques Garrett is, in addition to who John Rotar is.”

Suddenly, Eddie stood up and started projectile vomiting bubble tea boba balls at Stacey Garrett.

“Ohh,” Eddie said in a pained tone. “I drank too much boba.”

The boba balls hit Stacey Garrett so hard it actually ended up also removing him from the history textbook. Trust me, give it two weeks, and you won’t even know who Stacey Garrett is anymore after tour.

You know what’s so funny? Guess who wasn’t paying attention to Stacey Garrett’s entire speech? Rob. He was too busy talking to all the Rotorua District Choir huzz. In all seriousness, Rob is a true ladies’ man. That man has play—play that Dennis urgently needs. But hey—Rob is a happily married man with a very lucky gal at his side, a gal we’d all like to meet someday.

Let’s take our attention back to the story. Stacey Garrett is dead, so don’t drag it. Eddie is ill. Dennis is still looking for the huzz, and who knows if he’ll find them? Maybe his fate lies in the chuzz. The truzz? Or perhaps, the Rotorua District Choir, or ruzz.

[Wait 15 seconds of silence after people finish laughing. ACTUALLY WAIT 15 seconds. AFTER 15 seconds of silence, say…]

Type shit.

Chapter 24

Seeing Dennis’s anguish, Linda called Jefferson to see if he could work is magic and help out. Jefferson started the call with, “What are you doing calling me at this late hour?” to which Linda replied, “We all saw you making calls late at night, and this is another emergency—almost as big of an emergency as Katrina purchasing and eating a satay sauce kebab.”

Jefferson sent another helper to New Zealand to find Dennis his huzz, and Eddie his medicine. “Hello there,” she said. “My name is Roberta.”

Rob and Robert sighed. Chorale knew this was getting out of hand.

“You can call me Rob. I heard we are down a member. Isn’t there anyone who can help?”

“I can,” said the German from the Rotorua District Choir.

“And who are you?” Rob asked.

“My name is Robert.”

Seeing this, Anita could stay silent no longer. “I’ve decided to change my name,” she declared. “From henceforth, I shall be known as Robella. Rob for short.”

The other Robs were in uproar. “You can’t just steal our name!” they exclaimed.

Robella explained, “I am not stealing it. But I am straight up rob-bing it.”

Rob lunged at her. Which one? I can’t recall. A different Rob started handing out lollies. That one is clear. It was at this moment Julia awoke and starting scowling and shushing them to quiet down. Zoe also awoke and said, “Guys, your voices are really resonant. Could you please quiet down?”

German Robert stood up and shouted, “Yes, ve must set aside our differences and vork together.”

Then Kailamae stood up and said, “Wait guys, I have something important. My friend just texted me saying that my man used the bathroom for three minutes instead of two. That was the information she wanted to call about. What does this mean?”

The chorale was in disarray. Even Kimi joined the conversation: “That’s a red flag, fade that so fast.”

“Yeah girl, you need to leave,” Anna chimed in. Which one? I can’t recall.

Meanwhile, the Robs discussed. “We actually do have a lot in common, other than the first half of our names.”

“Yeah! Like the second half of our names!”

And so the five Robs agreed—hand in hand, they set off to begin their own rock band: Rob ’n’ Roll. As for the rest of the chorale…

Chapter 25

…everyone was content where they were at.

[CUE THE FRIENDS THEME SONG, or perhaps one of those sitcom outro songs where they explain where everyone went next.]

Chibby and Maïgane decided to make guest appearances on Grey’s Anatomy—the EMTs that picked Katrina up were so impressed by their caretaking skills, all while looking so good. Eddie went on to open his own boba shop, where he met his bobuzz (boba huzz) and lived happily ever after. Garrett went on to start his own club, the boating club where they all stand at the front of the boat in the pouring rain. Toby joined that club, except he did it with minimal clothing on, miraculously never getting sick!

In that moment, Baba, Dennis, and Akshar realized that they were so good at their selling skills after the salespeople at the Merino wool place dragged it. Dennis left the store with four jackets and 6 gloves, and Baba was convinced into buying four wool sweaters, all of which Toby REFUSED to wear while standing on the front of the boat. While Garrett was being introspective, out of the corner of his eye he saw a BIG BLUE BOAT. On the boat, he saw two people in the back. It was none other than Julia and Katrina who, after both getting left behind by the bus, were excited to finally be on this vessel. Out of excitement, they both were waving at Garrett, and BOOM—they were THROWN OFF THE BOAT. Garrett, who was waiting for a moment like this for a long time, took his jacket and pants off. He jumped into the water and swam all the way to the jet boat. He rescued both of them, and to his surprise, Kent was actually right behind him! With one girl in each of their arms, they swam all the way to the sailboat, where Katelyn was watching everything 👓.

Garrett and Kent went on to be partners at a lifeguarding group, where they rescued many other people. They were lifeguards in San Francisco, where many of the Chorale members went on to open a restaurant. The name of it was none other than Grazing, which Dennis, Katrina, and Justin mistook for Glazing. But in reality, Grazing was the restaurant at which all of Chorale convened for years to come. Every year, they had a reunion party at Grazing, where they had cold pizza and a lot of charcuterie. Mia and her boyfriend—oh wait—not boyfriend, were actually in SF one year, celebrating their honeymoon (such a romantic place, am I right?) Anyway, the chefs were spectacular. Anna Eaton in particular coined the name for her Michelin star-winning plate. The name was 1 Kilo Over (Under), which was both a hint at the incident at the Melbourne airport and a hint to them being down under. They convened at Grazing for years to come, where they had savvy B’s along with their food, and retold their experiences of tour with the crew.

As for the Sanos…

Chapter 26

…they had to fly back to New Zealand, because their flight had John Rotar, who fell ill because the First Nations ancestors cursed him for calling Stephen Leek the “father” of Australian music. Dr. Uwakwe came to the rescue. He pulled up his sleeves to reveal his pulsing veins and gently placed his hand on Rotar’s forehead. End of scene.

Back in Melbourne, Garrett discussed with the group the mistakes he made freshman year. One of those mistakes was being too sweet of a bub. He was interrupted by Akshar, who was late again. He had taken a shower at 6 PM when the call time was 6 PM.

“Finally!” Katelyn cried, exasperated. “Because of you, I can’t check off item #231 in my Google Doc for a 52-mile hike in the pouring rain.”

Akshar, feeling bad, apologized. However, he proceeded to be chronically late. Meanwhile, Cece arrived with her three daughters, all of who have been accepted to Stanford.

“Be careful! There’s peanuts in there!” shouted Cece, and everyone double-checked that Justin remembered.

While everyone was stressed about peanuts, Kailamae accidentally drank a smoothie with bananas inside. Her throat swelled up so much, they were seconds from never again being able to hear her high-G “Okaritooo.”

Maïgane intervened: “Quick! We have to find an epipen and take her to a front desk!”

Kent, with his swole arms, lifted Kailamae with one arm and swung her over his shoulders. They ran through the gates: 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, “25” (in Ifan's flavor). Everyone stopped at gate 25 to see Ifan in his white coat, holding a shining epipen. He stabbed Kailamae's leg, and she gradually recovered. Maïgane, feverishly knitted a wrap for Kailamae's leg and proceeded to buy another ticket to New Zealand to visit 14 more yarn shops.

Tour was finally coming to an end. Rotar woke up with Dr. Uwakwe at his side, with another inspiration for appropriated music. Eddie got another boba. Akshar got an alarm clock. Cece reunited with her French boy. Minseung finally finished his PhD. Dennis got an Asian girlfriend. Everyone else (too many to name, sorry) got to take a nice FAT sleep, and their reimbursement from Air New Zealand.

And so, Stanford Chamber Chorale 24–25 came to a close, and in came another cohort of all different voices, personalities, and quirks, never replacing those who left, but creating a whole new family.

Here ends the 2025 Chorale Story.