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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
Deep in thought, Kowalski nibbled the end of his pencil until he spat out the eraser. It bounced onto the floor and into Rico's left nostril. Rico sneezed and the three took cover, but nothing other than spray came out. Kowalski spread his flippers in apology. "Uh, ha ha, went a little too far. Sorry, Rico. Er, back to making the most of our delay to gather improved intel to ensure the best takedown, now, ah, the results will be worthwhile, but the next option is reaching some."
"Zowhutelziznew?" grumbled Rico.
"Er, hehheh, this depends on Sasquatch relaying disinformation to Blowhole. Given what we know about both of them, they like to hoist a few."
"There are no taverns at the zoo, Kowalski." Skipper frowned. "We don't know the city well enough to have her suggest they meet off zoo grounds for a booze fest. Give me another option."
"A moment, sir, and you'll understand this one with a single word: henbane."
Skipper made a rude noise. "You can't be suggesting getting chickens in on our plan. This zoo lacks a Petting Zoo with cackling fowl, or didn't you notice? Are you looking for another genius egglayer?"
"Nobody is smarter than the Blue Hen --- uh, strike that. As I was saying, henbane, a widespread weed containing scopolamine which is truth serum, plays a part in getting Blowhole's pie hole to open wide about why he wants Purpose X to succeed so badly that he commissioned a murder."
Private felt obliged to add, "But, K'walski, it's not spring yet and all the greens are frostbitten browny stems. How would he find your slopeamean?"
Kowalski gravitated to the one penguin who didn't scoff at his option but merely questioned its implementation. "There's a patch under the weeping willow where Skipper harvested my pain meds and I spotted some in the forest on your March so we know it grows around here. Private, you'll like this part. Henbane is also known as hebenon."
"Ooooh, Hamlet! Hebenon is the only part of the play I didn't understand!" Private tapped his flippertips together and showed doubt in troubled blue eyes. "But, K'walski, when Hamlet's uncle fancied his sis-in-law bad enough to kill his own brother by pourin' hebenon in his earholes, it was murder. We're not the murderin' kind."
"Shakespeare's jerkin, I know Blowhole's weight and metabolism speed like I know my own after all our encounters with him. I can gauge the right amount of henbane to give it a kick but not kill him and Sasquatch can relay it while acting sloppo enough to lure him in. We give her real henbane to show him what it looks like and she palms it to add something innocuous to her own drink. Addictive personalities like Blowhole and Sasquatch always have a yen for that extra zing to their habit."
"Why?" It took Rico to ask the obvious.
Kowalski's confidence blossomed. "Because if Blowhole has been waiting for Sasquatch's departure to Denmark for over two weeks, he's bored out of his skull. Think about it --- no state-of-the-art humongous lab to tinker in, on the outs with his sister if she even knows he's alive so no family chitchat, Parker six thousand miles away, no friends because Dave is absent and Blowhole isn't the type to have friends like regular dolphins do anyway --- and you'll reach the same conclusion that I did. Bored Blowhole, looking for a kick. Probably has a bar in his lorry loaded with booze. Bring Sasquatch in to drink with him on their two-way TV Quasi-Oktoberfestkindgestalt and we'll gather more intel than the law allows."
Skipper remained agog at Kowalski's analysis. "Whoa whoa whoa! We heard him say he's made more worms. How is he doing it from here? He sounded jazzed about that, not at all bored."
"But there's nothing more tempting than a scientist's yearning to have flippers-on experience in the creative process! I calculate that his iPhone transmits instructions to the Nepal lab regarding manufacture and transport of the giants to Arctic waters. It's possibly completely automated although I'm not sure about that part because his Blue Crew are around for something. It's more ambitious a plan than he's ever --- had ---" Kowalski trailed off.
"And you envy him?" Skipper's leadership honed in on his troops' needs and he could state with no one contradicting that he knew his team as well as any penguin could know another.
Kowalski stayed strong as he met his commander's gaze. "I didn't say that."
"Yeah, I gathered as much when you figured out his Invisibility Ray machine's controls enough to stop it but not enough to invent one on your own." Skipper looked to reassure his second in a non-sappy way. "We like you just as you are, man."
As long as the subject came up, Kowalski decided to clear his conscience. "Uh, Skipper, about the Invisibility Ray machine, I'd like to confess --- "
"I know, I know, you got jealous, but you're a good guy and good guys don't always finish last. The Endless Iceberg is full of 'em and where else would any sane penguin want to live for eternity?"
"You still don't see --- I give up. Moving right along, henbane used to be an flavoring ingredient in beer centuries ago and you know how trendy flavored beers are at the moment --- "
Skipper blew a raspberry. "They're nausorating. Puke. Hurl. Barf. Stand down, Rico, I didn't mean you."
"Aaaand your purist notions aside, Blowhole adores cutting edge everything, so he'll send Blue Whoever to the verge to scout around for some. Then Blowhole and Sasquatch party together in the cool way that folks do nowadays, you know, on devices rather than actually being in the same room. We dose Sasquatch with fish oil beforehand so she doesn't absorb alcohol as much. The plan is solid enough."
"What if Blowhole goes for something more sophisticated? A good bourbon, for instance?"
"I knew you'd bring that up!" Kowalski crowed. "He'll still want to experiment, because newest on the hootch market are smoked maple bourbon, citrus vodka, botanical rye, chocolate artisanal whiskey --- "
Rico broke in. "Marshmeowmeow rum?"
"Sorry, my friend, not yet. I'll keep you posted. But the point is, Skipper, that Blowhole is likely drooling for a fellow boozer to party with. If he has home-brewed raksi on tap, we're up against it with my plan, although we actually have enough intel to zap him right now." He looked down. "You know overkill is my weakness. I want this delay to be good for something."
Skipper headed to the front of the class as if for Show 'n Tell. "Chill out. You can never be too prepared. All right, Operation Boozehound is a go. Sasquatch tells him she scored some beer left behind by the fly by night vendors from the king's visit, she lets it drop that she's got a lil' e-e-e-extra shomething in her drinkie-poo, and we listen to what she makes him spill." He paused in the midst of giving his lieutenant a macho manly swat on the butt. "Waaaiiiit a minute, what if he's become a solitary drinker?"
Kowalski cleared his throat. "Dr. Phil says that solitary drinkers are morose. Any dolphin with a laugh like Blowhole's when he shows positive glee over having the temporary upper flipper over us is just the opposite."
Skipper dropped his own flippers to his sides. A wave of conflicting feelings washed over his face and what was left on the beach was not pretty. "It's on, then. I'm always up for getting something back on Blowhole for that mind jacker ray. I didn't act right for weeks. Um, days, I mean days."
Kowalski mouthed, "It was months," behind Skipper's back.
"But I'm myself again." Rico waffled his flipper in a comme ci, comme ça gesture that his commander chose to ignore.
Kowalski was on a high after getting his boozy plan approved. He seemed to forget that Skipper could hear him, or maybe he dissociated himself from the scenario of getting back at someone as revengeful as Blowhole was. Skipper and his crew weren't like that. They weren't. "He's himself again, he says. It's just that himself comes up with these ideas, like stopping homeschooling. I mean, really, what do we care? And don't give me those big sad eyes, Private! They're humans. We're birds. Get the difference?"
Private thought of Shawna. Rico thought of fish. Skipper used biofeedback to get his blood pressure under control after humming when you feel an anger wiggle calm it with a jolly giggle didn't work. "That's on the back burner for now," he acknowledged.
"Pfah, Skipper, the odds are ninety-eight point six per cent chance against --- "
"Don't quote me odds again!"
Kowalski got exasperated. "What do Vikings have to do with our mission statement of helping one animal at a time?"
"Have you seen their helmets? Some mammal died for a stupid hat!"
It was straightening out those little bits of misinformation that made Kowalski what he was. "Technically, Skipper, animals can be dehorned without --- "
"Ah bup bup bup! Don't confuse me with scientific jibber jabber! Even mammals don't deserve to be without their horns. How would you like to be without your beak?"
Private and Rico formed a coalition to get the two back on teamwork track. "It's telly time! Turn on the telly, Rico. Skippa, you sit there and K'walski, you sit there. I'll sit between."
Rico made up a new curse word for the occasion. "Pinfederers, shaddap!" Like a rosary with only four beads, Rico, Kowalski, Private and Skipper sat in a row to allow the alpha waves to soothe their brains to mush. Commodore Danger's rugged looks flashing onto the screen in From Sweden With Furniture made Skipper smile and he gestured to Rico for the remote, but Rico twisted away and kept surfing since the broadcast was dubbed in Swedish. There flashed by a Teletubbies marathon that Private squealed over and a nature documentary on butterflies that made Kowalski sit up straight and still Rico lorded dominion over the remote. "Ahhhhh," he said at last.
Gavina Formes chirped as sprightly as before. "If you're just tuning in, other polite news confirms that Tuscany's restaurants' revolutionary method of fly control is ready to sweep the service sector worldwide. Here's a sample of their method." A YouTube clip reeled in front of the penguins showing two industrious chefs slicing veal on a butcher's block. Suspended from the ceiling were baggies one foot above human average height at each corner of the block to form a fortress of cleanliness. There was a black numeral on each baggie that even penguin vision couldn't make out. "You can see this technique is green and not mean to the flies. And now for Arctic news." The clip irised out to a jumbled mess of gray with splashes appearing and disappearing on the screen.
"Apologies, viewers, we are fortunate to receive the transmission from out at sea in any clarity whatsoever. Please bear with us. Jan, Michael, Vincent, get on this problem right away as Polite News continues coverage of the ice worm mystery. Our man, Sven S.C. Formes, no relation, has been joined by Jeremy Wade's protegé Richard Koenig in Svalbard to sort out what is happening in the deep and on icebergs. It's a natural partnership and we welcome the young man's experience." Gavina's tone turned serious as she removed her earpiece to twiddle it. "It is my hope that this news remains polite. The possibility of a giant ice worm dragging a fellow harvester off her boat is daunting to me personally. As regular viewers know, I angle in my spare time. There's nothing like putting a meal on the table through your own efforts."
A squeak emanated from the earpiece. "Ahah, let's see now." She brushed aside coppery hair to replace the device after adjusting her spectacles. "Ready? Oh, audio only for now? Go ahead, Sven."
" --- frzzz --- sweetness, I could use your worm expertise although our ship's churning and heaving might make you indisposed." There was a squiggle on the screen followed by a kerbpshpt as the visual resumed with the audio. Sven's all weather gear showed a yellow as bright as Eggy's as he sneezed capaciously into his elbow. "Crappy headcold won't leave me alone, er, sorry, Gavina."
"It's all right. Take care of yourself as best you can. Tell our viewers your location, Sven."
"One klick off Bråsvellbreen glacier on Nordaustlandet. The island is nothing like I remember, Gavina. Rainbow Warrior is in the area and reports no onland walrus activity, either. The poor beasties must have been frightened off their lie out by our prey."
"Prey? Surely you will catch and release?"
Sven grabbed his cameraman's instrument and shoved its lens close to his face. There was a scuffle until Sven hissed something in Norwegian to his film crew. The penguin team found themselves staring beak-to-red-nose with Svalbard's best science reporter. "We might not have a choice. My colleague agrees that the sheer size of the creature could swamp this boat and its rumored deadly barb is not to be trifled with." Sven moved the camera off himself and pointed it towards the bow of the boat, where another yellow slickered person stood poised like a doughty figurehead. Even though the human's back was to him, Skipper discerned the admirable focus and resolve common to the River Monster guy who now turned his talents to solving sea mysteries. He high-oned his teammates.
"We'll get action! Hooha!"
"Now we'll see somethin'! Anybody workin' for Jeremy never gives up!"
"Why can't more girls be like Jeremy? Er, I mean, a human to trust, for once."
"Hedamaaaan!"
From her studio came Gavina's worried voice. "Sven, it's turning dark. Won't you drop sea anchor until dawn and then set out for the glacier?"
Sven's big grin lit up the scene in the ebbing daylight as he hogged the camera again. "You know as well as I do, lovey, fishing is when you find it. He and I both --- "
Sven remembered what a dramatic bit of news footage required as he aimed the camera at the bow when a hoarse cry sounded there. The yellow figure pointed towards the glacier. "We're off, Gavina! Wish us luck!"
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
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