Disclaimer: I do not own the Penguins series.

You know, I feel like this idea is a bit overused, but whatever; I wanna take a shot at it. Besides, I love animal-humanized fics, and I don't feel like there are enough of them.

Summary: Fresh off the plane from Fresco, California, Marlene Sullivan, young, career-bound and full of enthusiasm discovers a great place for sale; awesome location, cute for the first time house owner, and a quiet, scenic location in upstate Manhattan. Of course, as she gets acquainted with the house, she of course get friendly with the neighbors; and she soon finds out why the house was so damn cheap.

01: Welcome Home.

"It's perfect!"

A sense of relief washed over her as two months of endless searching, weeks of smelling like cigarette smoke and cat urine (a delectable smell that drove the guys wild) thanks to her temporary roommate Aunt Gertie, and looking at dozens upon dozens of almost-habitable apartments and houses that couldn't quite make the cut (i.e. bloodstains on the carpet, sex offender neighbor, hole in drywall from crazy lady that liked the taste) finally came to a conclusion as the beautiful ranch house stood tall in front of her, waiting for someone to make a claim to it. And Marlene Sullivan, fresh out of college, starry eyed and ready to take on the world, would be the one to claim.

She heard a chuckle behind her, and saw from the corner of her eye, a six-foot giant looming next to her, "You like the house, yes?"

"Correction; I love the house," she chuckled, elbowing the English Real-Estate agent in his bony arm; he simply stared at the delighted girl, eyes rolling at the lame joke, "it's amazing. Great size, awesome location…heck, even the neighbors are drywall-free!"

Her companion raised a brow, "Excuse me?"

Marlene laughed, shrugging her shoulders to shake the comment off, "No, no…nothing," Mason remained silent, and the giddy buyer continued, "It's just I had a few experiences with…some weird neighbors."

Speaking of, the houses were awfully quiet for such a beautiful Saturday afternoon; at least twenty houses dotted the little neighborhood. She expected at least one of them to contain a child—Marlene whirled her head around, trying to spot any sign of kids or adolescents enjoying a weekend outside or with friends, but the streets and the yards were silent. She turned back, eyeing the neighboring house over, when a blind closed.

"Erm…define weird neighbors, friend." he said, thick accent giving the four words a minute to mull in Marlene's mind. She turned back to the agent, sighing as she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye.

"I mean weird neighbors," not well known for her skills of elaboration, Marlene, held up her palms, gesturing to the cul-de-sac with one hand, "y'know…once sex offenders. People with, like thirty cats. NAMBLA enthusiasts. Eating walls. Freaky, unnatural things like that."

The British man laughed heartily, patting Marlene on the back, "What a crafty list, though I must remind you that every one of us has a freaky thing we like to do, yes?" the college grad didn't respond, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to give Mason the recognition for his right-ness, "but those extremes of freaky? None that I know of in this neighborhood; after all, I live here."

"Huh?"

This time it was Marlene's turn to raise a brow, and Mason once again laughed, "The house right over there. I share it with my…erm, brother, Phil," he pointed to a house at the far end of the street, with a pretty blue coloring and two nice cars parked in the driveway, "I've been here all my life; I can assure you, no weird neighbors reside here."

He opened his mouth, and as Marlene leaned in to listen to his words of wisdom, he clamped it shut, staring at the house parallel to her own and suddenly receding back in his shell. It seemed like he had much more to say after the sentence was over…now he simply watched the possible buyer, taking in her every move, her personality, even her presence, as a candidate for the new owner of a house. A full minute passed by, and she turned back to the Ranch, waiting for Mason to come to her.

"So, when will you be coming to unpack?"

And come to her he did.

"I reckon it'll be another week or so," she shuddered, the smell of cat piss and smoke already clogging her nostrils; she turned back to Mason, and pushed him towards the car, suddenly excited to get all the paperwork done as soon as possible, so she would never have to see another cat for as long as she lived, "I'll get the money today, and sign the papers; I'll be off in no time. So let's go sell us a house, shall we?"

Three Weeks Later; December 16

Two weeks before Christmas, she sat in the house, no creature or neighbor stirring, except for that mouse in the attic that always skittered around in the late hours of the night (she'd have to talk with Mason about that), and the stocking was hung by the chimney with care, though she didn't expect Santa Clause to be coming there...

"Why am I thinking in rhyme?" Proud new home owner Marlene murmured, pinning the last of the red ribbon on her mailbox. A full five days had passed, and thankfully, no incidents had arose; granted it had only been a school week so far, but so far so good.

She stood back, eyeing over her work with a proud smile, before the winter gale blew the decoration off the mailbox and into the snow-laden driveway of the neighbor on her right. Marlene cursed inwardly; she could've bet money that the bow was tied on tight. A sigh left a short breath hanging in the freezing air, and as she trudged through the past snowfall, she heard a door shut.

"Hello neighbor!"

The girl brightened almost instantly; there hadn't been a sign or proof that anyone but Mason (who brought her a little assorted fruits basket he made with his brother Phil on her first day) and herself actually occupied the houses, though she saw all the cars in the driveway and heard doors shutting, and voices talking to one another. Marlene turned, the dimpled smile occupying almost a whole half of her face suddenly drooping down, losing its vigor. A fellow home-owner did stand in front of her…but…

"Why aren't you wearing a coat?" she questioned; he had on a short sleeved shirt and a blue pair of shorts, and though Marlene wasn't accustomed to the rules of this neighborhood, she was sure Soffe shorts and tank-tops topped the universal 'What not to wear in the dead of winter' list,' "Or pants, or gloves, or mittens, or scarves, or…you get my point, don't you?"

"Ha-ha! I do not understand your concern, my new lady-friend," Marlene took the moment to notice the man's tanned skin, and deep, untraceable accent as he continued to ramble, "This is what all we Malagasies wear in the frosty-chilly season."

"Malagasies? You're really from Madagascar?"

He chuckled lightly, placing a tanned hand on her shoulder, "There is only one Madagascar, my absent-minded lady-neighbor, and I am from there. In fact, my mother, father, aunt, uncle, grandmamma, granddaddy, great-aunt, great-uncle—"

"Alright, alright, your whole family is from there, I get it!" She cut him off before he could get too in depth with the family tree, "But I have a quick question…um…"

"Julian!" He bowed, kissing the back of Marlene's hand, "but you may call me King Julian, if you wish. Or Julian the almighty, Julian the great, Julian the amazing—"

"I get it."

"Etcetera." He finished.

She waited, arms crossed in front of her chest until she really knew his tangent was over, and continued, clearing her breath so Julian would be reminded not to, "Julian, where are the rest of the neighbors? It's like this place is a ghost town—cul-de-sac. Does anybody else…live here?"

"Of course there are others!" he prattled excitedly, nearly scaring the pants off of Marlene, "there are the two brothers, Bada and Bing I think, Big Burt, the quiet, three-hundred pound man, Diedrich Rodes, a nasty man, call him the 'rat king' and Joey, that douchebaggy Australian 'bloke' and …"

Marlene nodded, "That many people, huh? Then why don't I ever see them?"

"Ms. Lady, I am not the answer provider," he shrugged, glancing to and fro at the houses, and she could see the lights filtering in from the windows, "maybe everyone is shy. Oh yeah, I forgot to be mentioning your other neighbors, the Skipper and his crew. You should be the staying away…they are a bit psychotic, even in this neighborhood."

"Huh?" She turned to the house next to her, with the driveway that still sported her fallen red bow, turned around to ask Julian what he meant by that, and simply saw the back of his head.

"What do you mean by that?" she shouted. Julian turned back for a quick second, and shrugged her off.

"You will be knowing soon!"

And with that, he closed the door, leaving a confused, cold and bowless Marlene standing awkwardly in her driveway. She sighed, blowing a chilly gust of air behind her as she trudged through the snow, bending down to retrieve the discarded decoration.

She looked at the house one more time, and saw the blinds snap shut.