Watermelon Snow | By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 2672 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction using the Penguins of Madagascar characters owned by Dreamworks. |
"Morning briefing, gentlemen. Private, memorize these minutes. Sasquatch meeting memorable, yet filled with questions. Perhaps the delay in her transportation to Helsinki for three weeks will answer those questions. In the meantime, I'm bored."
At these words, Private swayed on his feet, Rico choked on something halfway up or maybe it was halfway down, and Kowalski spluttered, "It's always d-dangerous when you get bored, sir. Cultural exchange between zoos is a good thing. Let's give this one a chance. It doesn't have to end like the Great Ethiopian Cultural Exchange program of Ought Nine."
Skipper bounced on his toes. "Hooha! Wasn't that a trip and a half! Our feathers didn't grow back for weeks. Rico's never did come in right again."
"I need sugar, sir."
It was one week and one day into the exchange. Rico had hacked up some simple necessities of life for the four of them. He hadn't packed Miss Perky for some reason and was the only one of the four not to need some grounding in familiar possessions.
At the mention of feathers, Rico pulled at his ragged topknot and made an indescribable noise, even for him. Private rooted in his duffel and handed Kowalski one of his Peanut Butter Winkies. "But I don't like --- never mind. Thanks, Private. Say what, Skipper?"
"I'm still bored, gentlemen. We've never been about being just plain playful penguins ---we're about being awesome by solving problems that nobody else could."
The others nodded. Rico pointed to his scar. "Wif price."
"Yes, my friend, with a price." Skipper got back on track. "So now boredom is a problem."
"For you," muttered Kowalski.
"Yes. Damn straight! And when I have a problem --- "
"We all have one, Skippa?"
"Let me finish, soldier. I want my problem put in the solved file ASAP." This was supposed to be a relaxation program. Perhaps one week was all that Skipper could handle, thought Private. Just as if they were back in Central Park Zoo rather than under a foreboding sky that promised a change in the weather, Skipper paced in front of his squad as he waved his coffee mug. "We solve Marlene's problems, we bring Mason and Phil back together when they've broken up again, and blah blahity blah. That's what we're in Zooville for, right? I mean it isn't like we couldn't leave any time we wanted."
"And do wot, exactly?"
Ever logical when it suited him and sometimes when it didn't, Kowalski threw out options. "Return to Madagascar?"
Skipper choked on his coffee sardine. "Aw hell no."
"Will we be goin' back to Antarctica where there are leopard seals like Hunter? And others not so nice?"
"Possibly in retirement, but that's a long way off for all of us. Well, for you most of all, you little rapscallion." Private dodged a ruffling of his head feathers.
"Skipper, Rico and I think that --"
"Oh, Rico and you."
"Yes, we were talking the other night and --- "
"You were. Do tell."
Kowalski stood his ground, flippers akimbo like Skipper's. "Yes, we were. At any rate, maybe a break from routine would be good for the team in general. We're here in an, an adequate zoo without those lemurs and Marlene and all the rest having problems. We're not bunking on top of a fusion reactor thirteen levels underneath our HQ. Can't we stop and smell the blåklocka?" He crossed his flippers firmly over his chest and favored his leader with a judgmental glare. "That's what you told me to do one time." Rico muttered something. "Oh, all right, Rico. You said that I do it sometimes but not often enough."
Skipper got his getting-ready-to-prevail look on. "I don't recall saying that. And that was then, this is now. I want action."
Rico burped up a half-completed ship in a bottle.
"No. Hobbies don't cut it."
Private regained his voice. "Skippa, I'd like a break."
"And normally I'd consider a teensy weensy break, but not now. Do we want these North Polars like Imelda to think we're made of hippie dreams and light frothy metaphors like sea foam and dolphin spray --- oh. Sorry, Kowalski, I forgot ---"
"It's all right, Skipper. Time marches on."
"March! That's it!" There was a gleam in Skipper's eye.
Rico managed to get out four clear words. "I don't get you."
"Private's never done a March of the Penguins. Even better, what month is it?"
"March. But Skipper, that's coincidence."
"No, it isn't. If Ringtail were here, he'd say the Sky Spirits arranged our exchange for a reason. It's so Private can do his March. And it'll be easier on the little guy. It's not as cold as Antarctica and there are fewer humans than in New York City."
Private dragged one toe in a circle. "Do I have to?"
"It's a rite of passage. You're ... ready."
"You hesitated, Skippa."
"It's just that I can't believe how much time has passed since you joined our unit. Makes me feel old."
"Too wrong by half, Skippa, you're not --- "
"Can the sympathy. We leave tonight." Skipper warmed to the subject. "We'll gather intel about homeschooling along the way, Private can do his March, and Rico can swim in the fjord around Kastelholm that we've heard so much about by eavesdropping on the humans. Win-win-win-win."
Kowalski's voice rose in that way that it did. "All in one night?"
"Under pressure, the way we act best. Aren't you going to ask what the fourth win is?"
"Continue! Get on with it! Drop the other herring!" Kowalski really was getting on everyone's nerves. An outing was just the thing that the unit needed. Even Kowalski's performance for the kiddies was subpar these past few days.
"It's going to snow tonight."
IOIOIOIOIO
"This watermelon snow is fascinating!" Kowalski, Rico, and Private inspected their feet and gleefully tracked red trails in a checkerboard pattern on the broad island in their temporary home. "Look, it turns our feet pink, too!"
"Woohoo! Look, everyone! I'm makin' plaid snow!"
There was no shutting Kowalski up. "Watermelon snow contains a species of algae holding red pigment along with green chlorophyll. It loves the cold!"
Private spared a thought for the matter. "But, K'walski, when you mix green and red don't you usually get a nasty brown color?"
"Red is way cooler, so no." Kowalski tromped through the thin layer of snow, head swiveling back and forth as he glanced behind himself to admire the garish tracks, and it wasn't long before he smashed into Rico. Rico had stopped in awe to gaze at the midnight northern light display.
"Kaboom kaboom kaboom!" Rico rolled onto his back with ninja grace at the impact, forcing Kowalski's long body to sprawl on top of him, toe to almost-toe. He twisted the second-in- command's narrow shoulders until Kowalski, too, beheld the ever-changing ribbons of color that swirled through the brighter-than-bright Milky Way.
Kowalski grunted and turned away. "We've all seen auroras before, Rico, what's so special ---"
Rico pinned Kowalski underneath him in a Routine Twelve maneuver, spouting something wild that Kowalski disputed. "I do not need preening at the moment! Stop! What are you --- get that out of my eyes --- my eyes --- what did you do --- it's --- it's --- beautiful --- I never knew it could be like this --- "
Kowalski was at a loss for words as he flopped nervelessly by Rico's side. White, green, blue, and violet gavotted across the Arctic sky, but underneath the dance of primary and secondary notes glowed colors that Kowalski could not name. He scrubbed at his eyes. "The oil from your preening got into my eyes and I see even more ultraviolet range in the aurora. It must interact with our avian retina's fourth cone and now I see --- I see --- indescribable --- thanks, Rico. You've made a discovery this time."
Rico crooned a question.
"No, I already rubbed a lot of it out. But that's okay, I saw enough, you don't need to --- "
Rico couldn't be dissuaded.
"All right. Preen me again, big fella."
"Hey you two, some other time. Let's move out. Form up."
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
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