I could tell Mz. Penguin was getting more and more annoyed. As I was regaining consciousness I was sure I could hear her tut-tut-tutting again. I was beginning to get annoyed as well. This penguin obviously needed an attitude adjustment. “Hello!?” she yelled in my ear, awaking me from my thoughts. “Oh sorry, did I wake you?” she said innocently. But I knew that she did it on purpose. I glared at her and was about to start the worlds biggest tantrum when I remembered why I had lost consciousness in the first place. “Gi…aa…ntts” I stuttered foolishly. I looked around in search for large towering beings but – strangely – saw no such thing. Phew, maybe I was just a little queasy from that ride on the penguin, I thought to myself. “What are, ‘Ji-a-nets’” the penguin said, pronouncing it carefully. “Oh, nothing you’d understand,” “Well, no time for chit-chat, let’s get to it,” she said and then waddled quickly out the door. Where did she go? I thought to myself. I was beginning to think that I had gotten myself into much more than I realised.
It was only then that I got a chance to analyse the room properly. Now I had no distractions I saw how weird the room really was. The walls were covered with black and white striped fur (which, I must say, looked very soft) and the ceiling was lit by a dozen small lanterns. There was a bed (which I was resting on) and it looked suspiciously similar to my own. The room was filled with all kinds of statues, big ones, small ones, and very, very scary ones. All of them were in the shape of penguins and all of them stared at me with their beady eyes. In the quietness of the room I could almost hear their breathing: judging me, glaring at me and (weirdest of all) tutting at me. Other than that, the room was as normal as could be - as normal as my room even.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the familiar voice of my dear friend Mrs Penguin calling out to me. Scrap that. My thoughts were rudely interrupted when I heard the annoying and horribly arrogant voice of my impatient kidnapper, telling me that she had been waiting for me for over five minutes! I sighed, picked myself off the bed and ran after her. Running along, I noticed that the hallway looked exactly like my hallway from my house, except for the fact that instead of family portraits there were pictures of penguins with names at the bottom. I slowed down and read some as I walked.
“Penocilius Penguin – 12 809 – 12 900 – Died of Harrofurus Hump”
“Emmaragus Penguin – 13 400 – 13 600 – Died of Harrofurus Hump"
“Cecilmargan Penguin – 13 243 – 11 398 – Died of Harrofurus Hump”…
The list went on and on. What in the world was this “Harrofurus Hump” and why were the dates so out of wack? Maybe the penguin could explain it to me. “Well I would explain it to you if you could just, COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT,” Jeez, I thought, to think I thought you were cute when I first met you. I could have sworn she was turning into my mum. I found her in my lounge room, sipping tea and coffee on our amber-red couch with my mum’s freshly baked butter cake laid out on the glass table. “Wha…?”
“Sit down,” she said. I sat on the chair opposite to her.
“There’s a lot I haven’t told you. I’m so sorry I was so hard on you before but we need your help and we’re running out of time,"
“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit mean about calling her names (even if they were in my head). She seemed so solemn at the moment. Her forehead was wrinkled and her brow was creased.
“You might have heard about the horrid disease, Harrofurus Hump. It is the most dangerous and deadly disease…what are you smiling at, child!?”
Oops, I guess the funny name just got to me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…I’m sure Harrofuru…Harrofurus…Harro,” I couldn’t stop laughing. It was too funny. Why, why did people have to name diseases such funny names?
The penguin frowned. “I’m sorry Mrs. Penguin,” I said, covering my mouth with my hand.
“Well. Yes, you should be sorry, it is very serious disease and it kills millions yearly. Do you know how many penguins die everyday because of this?”
“Mmmhmm, it must be a lot,” I said, not really listening.
“It is a lot!” she said, clearly very grumpy, “And it’s all your fault!”
… The bit in a movie where the screen goes blank and then the picture fades back in…
“WHAT?” I said, insulted. “I didn’t know anything about this disease until just a few seconds ago!” “My dear child, you created this disease,” she said, lowering her voice and finding her temper again. She lowered her head and blew on the teacup in her hand. I knew that something was wrong. Why had I not noticed this before? The large penguin on my bed had to give away something. Then there was the flying into the sun, the hairy giants, the bed the same as my own, the tutting penguin statues, the hallway with the dead people and then my mum’s butter-cake. By its self these things do not make a dream but together…
“Oww!” I screamed. The penguin tutted at me again as I watched my arm go red once again. “No, no, no. If this is not a dream…”
“Then it means that this is really happening,” the penguin interrupted, taking a sip of her cup. “This butter-cake is really quite good, you should try some,”
Oh my gosh, what is going on here? I am sitting across from a giant penguin who changes her mood five times an hour in my sitting room. Something must be wrong, something isn’t right. It isn’t a dream, but something isn’t right.
“Of course something isn’t right, you nut!” I had forgotten about her ability to mind-read. “You’re in a era, very different to your own,” she stopped to swallow a piece of cake. “This!” she waved her flippers around the room. I couldn’t help giggle at this sight. She ignored my remark and continued, “This room, this cake, this house, it’s all not real!” A frowned at her trying to understand what she meant. “I.T I.S A.L.L N.O.T R.E.A.L” she said sarcastically. A tear rolled down my cheek, I didn’t feel sad but I couldn’t help it. The penguin saw my face, “I’m sorry, I really am,” she said. “I know my mood has been changing all sorts, my hormones are still crazy from my pregnancy,” I remembered the little egg I saw in my laundry.
“Come on let’s go somewhere else,” she put the cup down on the table and stood up. “Where?” I said, bewildered. She walked to the door and turned around, “Your favourite place in the world,”
My second Chapter in the untitled story. Sorry if it isn't as good as the first, it was a little rushed. Thanx for reading. Oh and - please ignore the skype number things - they are actually supposed to be the years but blogger keeps putting a skype link on it.
Tigerlily
