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Watermelon Snow
By : pronker
Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar
Views: 2672 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction using the Penguins of Madagascar characters owned by Dreamworks. -
Chapter List
- 1-Watermelon Snow
- 2-2/50
- 3-3/50
- 4-4/50
- 5-5/50
- 6-6/50
- 7-7/50
- 8-8/50
- 9-9/50
- 10-10/50
- 11-11/50
- 12-12/50
- 13-13/50
- 14-14/50
- 15-15/50
- 16-16/50
- 17-17/50
- 18-18/50
- 19-19/50
- 20-20/50
- 21-21/50
- 22-22/50
- 23-23/50
- 24-24/50
- 25-17-18/50 SLASH INTERLUDE BETWEEN CH. 17 AND 18. AU ON 'WATERMELON SNOW'
- 26-24A/50 SLASH VERSION OF CH. 24 FOR KICKS AND GIGGLES *** AU ***
- 27-25/50
- 28-26/50
- 29-27/50
- 30-28/50
- 31-29/50
- 32-30/50
- 33-31/50
- 34-32/50
- 35-33/50
- 36-34/50
- 37-35/50
- 38-36/50
- 39-37/50
- 40-38/50
- 41-39/50
- 42-40/50
- 43-41/50
- 44-42/50
- 45-43/50
- 46-44/50
- 47-45/50
- 48-46/50
- 49-47/50
- 50-48/50
- 51-49/50
- 52-50/51
- 53-51/51
Sasquatch settled into lotus position as the evening wind whirled a candy wrapper from the western part of her habitat towards the east. The stone wall section caught it to join several more stuck there. She scowled. If it had sailed only a few more feet to the south, it would have disappeared through the fencing. Maybe it would have bothered Imelda's sense of order or better yet, the obnoxious penguins'.
From her perch atop the scaffolding, she closed her eyes to the pretty sunset to shut out an otherwise troublesome world. Images played behind her eyelids of irritating aquatic birds clawing at her and pulling her fur as they threatened to explode her from within. Ha, fat chance of that happening. She murmured her mantra and the images faded. She smiled and installed a more pleasant memory. Although it now felt normal to walk upright, she treasured vivid sensations of cattle egrets parading on her back as they picked off her parasites. Blowhole's change to her outside appearance may have initiated EMR parasite-repellent pulses, but there was nothing like the sense of providing nourishment to a fellow creature even if it did wear feathers and could fly. It was almost as good as nursing a calf.
She smiled again. Ahh, the thought of relief in itch-free hide under clear Nepali spring skies soothed almost any worry. Yes, her happy place was within reach. Perhaps a bit over one month or at most two, and she would see Nepal once more. A few snips from Blowhole's restoring procedure, a few days of recovery time, and she'd frolic with her herd on the warming Maytime meadows. Her individual future shone even brighter when she considered what she was accomplishing for her kind. Life was good for once.
Sasquatch passed her hand three times in front of her forehead. ::Hugo, the fix is in. You're coming with me.::
He must have been awaiting her mental call. ::Sasquatch, I'll believe it when I see it.::
::You'll be free from this place along with me. Blowhole said so.::
::You're trusting him again.::
::What choice do I have?::
::None, I suppose. When are we leaving?::
::The schedule isn't firm yet. It's less than two weeks if the artic comes through and we're loaded onto it. He'll hijack the artic and we're off.::
::Have you practiced looking pitiful? Like you're just dying for an animal friend?::
::I'm not much of an actor.::
::Try. Draw down your lips and then wibble them, avoid eye contact with your keepers and refuse food. Trust me.::
::All right. How about at your end?::
::I'm an expert at refusing food. I'm looking at where you used to be and sighing right now. My keeper is tidying my habitat.:
::And she doesn't see anything strange about you sitting and waving your hands around your face?::
::She just thinks I'm going senile. Oops, I'd better not push it too far or I'll be at the clinic before you know it and that will bollix our plans.::
::Break off with me and interact with her a little. Show affection.::
::Not my thing.::
::It will be. It must be.::
::There. I hugged her and looked winsome.::
::You?::
::I have my moments. Now she's hugging me back. Urk.::
::I'm having trouble picturing this.::
::It's just as well. There won't be any orangutans in Nepal and I'll never need to hug again.::
::Curmudgeon.::
::That's the word, ayam.::
::Hold the wire. The penguins are up to something near the admin building.::
::They are a wily bunch. Too much like busybodies for my taste.::
::The chief harami bull wants me to report on Blowhole to him. He says he'll make it worth my while. He claims helping animals is what his herd does.::
::Ayam, don't listen to him.::
::I'm not. I wonder what he meant, though.::
::I don't wonder about anything. What does it get you?::
::No time for debate, they're really making me curious. Talk to you later. Selamat Malam.::
Sasquatch clicked the metaphorical button to disconnect and stood tall on her vantage point. It wasn't tall enough. She jumped off the scaffolding to reach the ladder placed by the foot of the stone wall. It was only a six foot ladder. She smiled grimly as she extended it to eighteen feet, locked the connectors and strung it between the scaffolding and the top of the stone barrier. Stupid humans thought she didn't know how to do this. She walked on the ladder as if on a tightrope and stood atop the capstones of the barrier.
There they were. Should she just watch or should she interfere? Would this affect her in any way? They might be all into helping animals and even humans, but she wasn't. It was better to observe. The linden trees behind her habitat could offer no cover in their denuded winter state, but she jumped into the nearest one anyway. After climbing to about the same height as Kastelholm's frigid metal roof, she pressed herself to the trunk to diminish her silhouette. Peace descended upon her as she attained altitude. There was a great deal to be said for the satisfaction of being higher than others. It made feeling superior to them so much easier.
As usual, peace was shortlived. "Taile ke gareko saale?" Sasquatch muttered. One bird logrolled a cylinder next to the building. In the sputtering northern lights of early evening, the cylinder shot muted pastels from its matte metal. The other birds played around with a bucket dangling from a beam jutting from the admin building's ridge. There was a rope depending from the beam and Sasquatch supposed it was used to haul the bucket up and down. Workers had been on the roof repairing something earlier that apparently needed more than one day to complete. Were penguins on the roof yet? No, now one was on the ground. No, now one was halfway up. Was it the same one? It fell to the ground, got tangled in something and shot up again. The others ran in circles. One stopped and put his flippers on his hips. He appeared to let this situation play out. At last the action stopped. The fallen one stumbled towards the calm one and offered long loops of something as if in tribute before collapsing.
Sasquatch blinked. Were there five penguins? One stood unnaturally still after swaying in the breeze. She recounted. Yes, five. What could this mean? She hadn't heard zoo gossip about another penguin's admittance, but then she was not chatty and the moose habitat was too large to overhear things easily. Maybe another had transferred in?
A scraping sound from far below attracted her attention. A white shape at the foot of the tree scratched the linden's bark rhythmically. When the white shape looked up, Sasquatch made out two dark eyes and a gaping mouth that might have been smiling, but wasn't. It was Imelda. The polar bear posed a watchful threat as she said nothing but continued to sharpen her claws. This could be bad. Could polar bears climb trees? Sasquatch could understand that her spying on Imelda's friends might bother Imelda. It was better to disarm the threat. As an alpha in her herd back home, she knew how to do this.
Sasquatch descended to eight feet above the ground, contemplated the length of Imelda's front feet, and climbed back up to twelve feet. With good warning, she could clamber up to the next branch and go high enough to evade those claws and teeth on the bear's heavier body in the smaller branches way up top. She estimated that Imelda was too fat to climb fast or far. She hoped she was right.
"What are you DOING?" asked Imelda in a voice neither threatening nor friendly.
Now that she could see Imelda up close, Sasquatch thought a neutral reply was wise. She might be faster than a polar bear, but one stumble and she'd be hard put to evade three-inch eyeteeth and those freshly-sharpened claws. She tightened her grip on the tree branch. "Out for a bit of free air."
Imelda wasn't fooled. "I THINK you're thpying on the GUYTH."
Counterattack. "I think you're spying on me."
"Right ath rain, THISTER." Imelda strained upwards on the tree trunk, claws gaining purchase. If her paws were two feet longer, she could scrabble to the lower branch. She still could jump to it with some effort. "I don't like you."
Fair enough. Sasquatch dropped to a taunting squat on the branch. "Where I don't know you at all."
"Mom! Mom!"
Imelda swiveled her head. "MARCUTH!" She backed down the trunk to drop to all fours, blocking her cub from approaching and all the while snapping wary looks back at Sasquatch. "Bad boy! BAD!" She cuffed him and he spun in a circle. "Not a GAME, THON!"
"Aw, Mom. I just want to help. I could, I know it! I'm a Cub Scout!" He glared at Sasquatch. "What's she done?"
Charge. "Yes, Mom, what have I done?" Sasquatch returned the glare at both of them. "Innocent until proven guilty, or don't you believe in that?"
Imelda placed her bulk between Marcus and the tree. "You nearly MURDERED a friend of mine. You don't get a THECOND chanth." Imelda growled low and Marcus backed away. "Thtand far from her, thon. Bad NEWTH."
Sasquatch rolled her eyes although she knew Imelda couldn't see it in the growing darkness. "I'm a mother, too, bear. Don't think I'd hurt any calf, rambunctious or not. I never have. What I want to do is secure the future of my kind. You polar bears have a stake in that notion, or so I hear."
Imelda lowered her head and swung it back and forth. "Thay WHAT?"
"Look, I'm just observing. Don't go ballistic on me. I'm curious about your guys. What's the crime?"
"Penguins smell fishy like we do. You smell" --- Marcus tipped his head back for a good long sniff --- "weird. Sort of like Bruce but different."
"Marcuth, no THWIMMING for a week if you don't go home right NOW." Imelda kicked backwards with one furred hind foot. Marcus sidestepped the push.
"But --- "
"Now." Imelda's voice softened. "There'th nothing here to thee. Mom will be back thoon. Now, thon."
"Awwwww --- okay."
IOIOIOIOIO
IOIOIOIOIO
"Kowalski, what the hell happened?"
Kowalski still couldn't focus his eyes. He put out a flipper and Skipper steadied him. "Horseradish. Brambleberries. Iceberg lettuce. Romaine hands. Russian fingers."
"Awwww, Rico, take him." Skipper pushed gently and Kowalski stumbled backwards into Rico's strong flippers. Private rolled the copper wire into handy loops before placing it on top of Faux Skipper's flat plastic feet to act as ballast in the brisk breeze.
"Skippa, I was closest and saw the whole thing."
Skipper had been optimistic at commencing Operation: Plug A Blowhole, but his mood had soured. He grumped, "All this because I'm not fit for full duty and couldn't stand support in our penguin tower to get up to the roof. Cheese and --- and --- "
"Nasty, soggy crackers?"
"Report, Private. Don't be cute or cuddly about it."
Private slapped his flippers to his side, their tips pointing to the outside of each ankle as per regs. "Reportin' in full, sir. Since we need copper wire stringin' from the computer to Faux You, K'walski figured to borrow the lightnin' rod's wire. He unfastened it from the groundin' part stickin' out of the um, ground, but we needed to go roofside to undo it from the rod. Rico pointed out the bucket hangin' from a roof ridge beam holdin' somethin' heavy with a pulley and rope to haul it up and K'walski said, "'Let's do physics and let the counterweight carry me up.'" Private paused. "Bad call lookin' back, sir."
"Indeed."
"Well, then he undid the rope from its tie to the side of the buildin' and found out suddenly that the bucket was way heavier than he was. He got tangled in the rope and it pulled him up and then halfway up the bucket bonked his head a fair good one as it headed down. He still hung on to the top and I heard him say, 'The braapin' pulley's grabbed the tips of my braapin' flippers!' --- his very words, sir, sorry --- but even then, even then, Skippa, when he was right at the roof ridge he broke one free to snap the copper wire from the lightnin' rod and on the way back down he pulled the wire from its fastenin's to the wall of the buildin'. Oh wait, I'm gettin' ahead of myself. Then the blinkin' bucket hit the ground so hard that it bursted its bum and the heavy tools fell out so now the bucket was lighter than poor K'walski. He dropped like a heavy Christmas puddin' and when he was halfway down and the bucket halfway up the br---bleedin' bucket whomped him another go at the head. He fell onto the sharp tools and got some right nasty cuts on his shins. 'Oh heck,' he said then and he must have lost his presence of mind because he let go the rope. The bucket dropped and --- "
"--- conked him again. Yes. Good report, Private, way to go. Why do these things happen only to us? And it's 'burst,' not 'bursted,' ain't that right, Kowalski?"
Kowalski approached, attentively supported by Rico. He rubbed his head and still looked dazed. "'Busted' is proper, too, Skipper."
"You okay, compadre?"
"I'm fairly decent. The headache will pass in two point seven five hours. I'm up for computer work, just like always."
"Rico, some TNT, if you please?"
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
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