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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
"Private was beating up on me so I had to clock him. I'm kidding, it was just a bad dream and I'm moving on now. Stop fretting and grab rack time, soldiers." There was the usual rustling and shifting about until all was quiet in the kitty-corner bunk. Neither Kowalski nor Rico could claim the same in theirs.
"Kropmmtztntcls?"
"It was a wild notion of his, Rico, we all have them. Settle down like Private and Skipper, all right, buddy?"
Rico couldn't give up the subject. "'Kipppaaaah. Tntcls. Weird."
"He told me where he fought them after he came back from his first solo mission. He and I got a little drunk on the Gammel Dansk he smuggled home. Let's just say that Atlantis has a darker side." Kowalski massaged his neck. "Good night."
"Nuh uh. Cold."
"Our bunk doesn't get the brunt of the draft like theirs does since the wind changed direction to arctic North from prevailing South Southwest out of the Gulf of Bothnia. Hey, you know what? That's like the Indian Ocean's winds changing direction during the monsoons! Isn't that scientifically fascinating?" Rico's silence was answer enough. "Um, we're not freezing like on the ice floe leaving Antarctica, so there's that." Kowalski's head throbbed, but his neck hurt worse. His pillow was all wrong. "Give me your pillow." He leaned over Rico and blocked the bunk's opening partially by making a fort of the two pillows. He lay flat in the growing warmth. "Ah, better."
"Nuh uh."
"It's the only option I can come with at this hour. What are you doing? I'm a scientist, not a pillow!" Rico lay his head on Kowalski's belly and stuck his feet in between the two pillows with a contented rumble. "Get off me!"
"Nuh uh!"
"Look here, Rico, the only way you and I work this communal living atrocity is when we sleep far apart from each other." Kowalski bunted Rico's head off his stomach with a pained hiss. "Fossey's knickers, my head thumps and my neck hurts when I move and my shins burn and now there's you. I can see I won't get any sleep tonight. The willow bark only took the edge off the discomfort."
Rico scrabbled to his knees and rolled Kowalski onto his stomach before straddling his back. "Cut it out!" Kowalski tried a stomach pin reversal in the Greco-Roman grappling tradition, but by virtue of his headache he forgot the final movement and blended in a Tai Chi White Crane relaxation posture to form an absolute martial arts mess. "Give, already. I give."
"Quiet, you two!"
"He won't leave me alone, Skipper!"
"Rico, leave Kowalski alone. Kowalski, keep your flippers to yourself. Don't make me come over there. Act your ages, for crying out loud, and remember: What happens in the bunk stays in the bunk."
"Acting now, sir."
"Sowwy."
Rico waited until peace returned, effleuraged the sore neck until Kowalski purred and then flipped him onto his back. "All right. I guess you've earned pillow rights. Lawrence's cyclotron, what are you doing now?" The pillow fort exploded outwards and then pitter-pattered the feet of one daring penguin pooh-poohing the need of light before tripping over the retired slop bucket in the corner and returning. Two pillows slapped Kowalski in the face before he made out Rico's darker than dark outline and that of another penguin's who settled in their bunk. There was a screeunch followed by three eeeuh eeeuhs before Faux Skipper blocked a great deal of the opening space. Rico pummeled the pillows in to obliterate the rest. He plumped Kowalski's stomach to his liking.
"Air, Rico. We'll need air."
"Ahhahaha. Ha. 'Kay?" Rico leaned up to squeeze a flipper between the top pillow and the roof. He waggled it to depress the pillow a bit. Kowalski could not see his friend's expression through the gloom. He pictured the eager to please look anyway.
"It's okay. Pile on."
"Cannnnballlll!"
"Ooof."
"I said quiet! Key-why-ut!"
It wasn't the most restful night Kowalski had ever had, but it would do in a pinch.
IOIOIOIOIO
By morning, the feathery snow kept up a steady drift and there was watermelon snow to anticipate. They all looked forward to the simplicity of playing in the snow after breaking their heads about Sasquatch and Blowhole and securing travel to his last known position. Their keeper tossed fish their way and hurried off and a shivering worker operated a snowblower noisily to clear the paths, but guests sought the comfort of home and hearth in the first major snowfall in some time. Throughout the day, every penguin on the island but one became bored. Near the end of opening hours, one bundled up disabled guest straggled in. As he studied the zoo's map kiosk myopically from his PowerChair, he missed seeing a little scarred penguin twirling in the snow with his eyes closed while joyfully honking to the bountiful heavens. The other little penguins stewed in a funk of ennui.
"K'walski, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm sick of your face."
"Private, it's mutual."
Rico opened his eyes after his final revolution and looked alarmed. When his face crumpled enough for Skipper to take notice, the commander stepped in after a significant eye roll that encompassed his entire squad.
"Team, we've got cabin fever. This could get real ugly real fast."
"Is that wot it is? How did we get infected so quickly? Why haven't we ever gotten tired of each other before?"
Kowalski had had a moment to think. He called upon the expertise of an expert swimmer in these emotional waters that generally sloshed over his head. "It's just like Dr. Phil says. We caught it because we're on" --- he sketched air quotes --- "vacation and we don't have regular outlets. I miss my lab. Rico --- well, he carries his kaboom with him so he doesn't count. Private misses his ducklings to swoon over and Skipper misses Marlene."
"I do?"
"She's your girl bestie, so yes. You must admit you're good friends."
Private floundered in a rut of negativity as foreign to him as anything could be. "Wot's the cure? I don't like this feelin'!"
"We need a jolt of something new, something unexpected." The falling snow felt good plastering the bumps on Kowalski's noggin and he rubbed it cautiously as he considered options.
Skipper was still parsing Kowalski's analysis of his relationship with Marlene. He smiled and waved at the lone guest who wheeled past the penguin habitat to favor Imelda and Marcus. There was no need to stage any entertainment and he felt at loose ends. Likely the lumpy old person in the PowerChair would make a quick tour of the zoo and then head for home if he could tear himself away from the warmth of the primate house.
"Bestie? I guess." Skipper looked bemused and then pointed at an object blowing through their habitat fence. "Hey, catch that newspaper before it falls into our moat!"
With the guest now out of sight, Skipper felt no compunction to somehow return the newspaper that had slipped from under his arm. He held out his flipper expecting it to be filled with the newspaper without further comment.
Private pirouetted like Polina Semionova as he retrieved the newspaper and threw out a stray remark with a sly look as he forked it over. "I wonder how Julien is doin'?" He blinked rapidly and looked as if he'd prefer to take back the provocative words. Skipper's flareup was less than he'd supposed or maybe even wanted in order to end the boredom.
"Don't mention Ringtail! This is a rest from Central Park Zoo, sort of."
Kowalski existed to point out inconsistencies. "With Blowhole and a sasquatch."
"Did we ever believe anything will go easy for us? I am not really --- sur--- surprised --- that --- th-that --- I --- he --- oh braap. Oh, braap." Skipper's face fell. "Here's our jolt. Ole is dead."
Dismay settled on the four as they gathered around to look. On the back page of the newspaper was a photo of an outsized rat in a trap with his head at an unnatural angle. A human held Ole's corpse in tongs as if it could zombify and bite him in revenge. As snow drifted onto the photo to blur the sad image, Private spoke his heart.
"The engine for peace has stopped outside the station."
Skipper shook his head. "No. The engineer has left it." He looked sharply around the deserted zoo. "Rico, a Viking's funeral for our fallen Norwegian." They stood at attention as Rico produced a flamethrower to immolate the newspaper. The black ash muddied the melted snow beneath until more snow interred Ole's papery remains.
IOIOIOIOIO
"I don't hold to his lifeview." Skipper said later, pursuing a line of thought for the enlightenment of his team. "I respect it, though, and Rockgut would have, too."
Kowalski added his own twist. "Respect isn't love, and that's from me and Dr. Phil. I would never desert the team for peace, Skipper."
"'Bye, Ole." Rico's contribution to the farewell was short and bittersweet.
Private searched for a profound thing to say and wound up reciting his duty roster. "Your reread of the Routine Two lecture is noted on your Log, Skippa, along with poor Ole's horrible fate. Wot will Stockholm do without him?"
Rico shrugged. "Live."
"He'll have been inspirin' others to live in peace, that's right, Rico!" Private turned doe eyes to the rest of the team. "That's wot he would have wanted!"
Kowalski didn't have the heart to disillusion his young friend as to what Rico probably meant. "Undoubtedly. Um, Skipper, small towns such as Mariehamn often provide services that larger communities have long since given up in the rush of so-called progress. It may be that a middle of the night milk delivery truck route would take us to the airport area where we could deploy to hunt Blowhole's um, hole in the wall gang."
"And take him down all in one night? How would we get back here? Remember, I'm --- I'm --- well. You know." Skipper's edge was blunted by Ole's passing and he looked tired despite their inactivity during the day. Kowalski decided that Private would need to be in on a scheme to make them all turn in earlier than usual. Not for the first time he wished for their surveillance gear hidden behind the all-purpose pivoting door. He could save the team from trundling back and forth to the moose habitat if Sasquatch could communicate with their own 52-incher. But she was not tech-savvy and what if she --- he gulped --- pushed the wrong button on the remote and they wound up in a three-way call with Blowhole? Nope, tromping through the snow it was.
The milk truck route was an iffy option and not particularly one of Kowalski's best. He strove to put a good face on it. "Averaging our take down time of Blowhole not counting initial intel gathering comes to three point nine seven hours. That's doable, Skipper."
"Includin' the time when the whole zoo was forced into singin' whether they could carry a tune or hit clinkers every other note? And squashin' Chrome Claw? And our first encounter with him when he planned to --- "
"Mathematics says three point nine seven hours, Private. Here, look." He shoved the abacus into the young penguin's face.
"I'll take your word for it, K'walski."
Skipper had a base plan to fine tune and he got right to it. "I get it now. We insert into the milk truck on its way out with full bottles, take down Blowhole and/or his giant mutant worms in three point nine seven hours or less, rendezvous with the same milk truck on its way back to the milk distribution plant with empties, and return to the zoo before opening time. No pressure."
Rico held up a flipper to signal 'wait.'
"What, big fella?" They watched him upend his duffel. Soon they peered at a fjordphiliac cruise brochure for eastern Sweden. "The Gulf of Bothnia, yes, Dekarsofjarden fjord is north of us and we are down here." Kowalski's sense of spatial navigation served him well most times. "A foldout map of Åland and hooboy, a map of the city proper for Mariehamn! Here's the zoo and pictures of its amenities, all the better for international guests. And us." A café diagram with healthy stylized cows drinking healthy glasses of milk showed for a corner of the zoo they'd never seen. "And you just know it's organic milk and must be renewed daily! Let's hear it for organic!"
"Yay. Hippies. Yay." Skipper brightened. "But that's a good thing in this case! We're bound to spot a pickup point for the milk and hitch a ride. Take that, hippie Viking solstice worshippers!"
They high-oned until Kowalski signaled behind Skipper's back to snooze early. He and Rico joined Private in copious stretches and eye-scrubbings until Skipper caught the contagious yawns and flopped into his bunk without further ado. Kowalski set his internal alarm.
IOIOIOIOIO
It was a briefer conversation than usual that night. Skipper could tell that Sasquatch tried to stretch things out, but her inexperience showed and Blowhole was taciturn rather than blustering. He stated everything was 'on an even keel, old lady' and signed off quickly.
Sasquatch turned to the penguins with a shrug. "Sometimes he's like this when he's scheming. I don't know what else to do. If I can't get more out of him, what will happen?"
Skipper led his team from out behind the manger. "We'll improvise. We've got a good fix on his location and a general idea of his monsters and how he makes them. What we don't know is the why. So tomorrow is another day, I mean night, sister."
She leaned against the logs of her stable and smoothed her fur as much as possible. "Will the snow slow down your operation?"
"Hell no! We penguins live for snow and waddling on snow and sliding --- I mean traveling through snow. Just you keep on his good side and we'll see you tomorrow."
She made a face. "No guests today. It was boring."
"It is easier to be busy than look busy."
"I had time to think."
"That can be a good thing." Skipper didn't want to push after her revelations the night before. He waited.
"Can I change my mind about helping?"
"We've told you who he is and what he does. If you still consider him a good bet, there's nothing more I can say."
She frowned and twiddled her heavy chin whiskers. Her brow went up and down as if there were restless thoughts behind it. "I'm not used to being like this. I'm a leader in my own herd and this feeling sucks."
"I hear you." He waited some more, but she had nothing else to offer other than an absent wave goodbye.
IOIOIOIOIO
"Agent Twelve reporting. Mission complete."
"I can a-a-a-a-always count on you to succeed in a surgical strike, Twelvie. You take care now and thanks for delivering the weapon. Breaking you out of Hoboken really paid off."
"Further orders?"
"Ditch the PowerChair in a, in a, let me see ... ditch. Continue cruising off Åland and keep your distance from any large worms in the briny. I made them extra mean."
"All for the greater plan, yes I understand."
"I knew you would. You're my soulmate. Um, I mean, good, g-o-o-o-o-d that you get it. Nobody else around me does."
"Hey, Boss, should I be insulted?"
"Why start now, Blue Four?"
"Permission to crush him for you the next time I see him?"
"What? No! You're my solitary backup with Parker so far away, they're minions more of the -- the --- um --- something something bo-bleenex, banana-fana fo-fleenex, fee-fy-mo-meenex something kind, if you get my drift. I need them until I, er, don't."
"As you wish. Twelve out."
"Don't be a stranger, call me anytime you want so we can chat some more --- oh you're gone. Crabcakes."
"Gosh, you made up a song about me? I don't know what to say, Boss!"
"Blue Four?"
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Shut your pie hole."
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
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