A Death in the Family – Panacea447 (Drunken Tavern Elites)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Penguins of Madagascar
I
"Mail!" announced Kowalski over the din of Saturday lunch time.
He held a stack of envelopes, a few packages, and a new edition of 'Mad Science Weekly'. He handed the envelopes and packages to Private before settling on down on his own seat and opening the magazine.
"You do realize we can't read Kowalski?" asked Private earnestly as he eyed the mail.
"In my case, I still like the pretty pictures" replied the intellectual, his face still obscured by the magazine. "But in yours I already ran it through Phil and Mason. The envelopes and packages all contain birthday greetings, well wishes and the occasional stuffed present from all our neighbors -"
Kowalski's next words were drowned by a roar of delight from Rico as Skipper pulled out four tuna-stuffed pies from Marlene's package.
"Fish! FISH!" squealed the maniac as Skipper eyed the birthday card that came with it and handed it to Private.
"Oh Marlene, you shouldn't have." said Private, smiling at the photo of him and the otter.
Skipper was busily extracting the cards while Rico drooled on the pies Marlene gave. Skipper snorted loudly as he handed the next card to Private. Upon inspection, the card depicted Julien in an elegant pose upon his throne.
"Well that's Ringtail for you." said Skipper casually, handing the next package to Private. "But it looks like Mort and Maurice can redeem him this time."
Private dug into the package to find an exquisitely crafted wooden figurine of himself within. The penguin was about to exclaim in glee when he felt a trickle of hot liquid on his leg. He looked down to see Rico staring up at him with beady eyes. "Pweez, pweez!"
"Wha-? Oh sure Rico, help yourself."
With a roar of satisfaction, Rico buried his beak into one of the pies as Skipper continued to hand him the rest of his birthday cards and presents: a feather-pillow from the flamingos, casted footprints from Roy and Burt, bananas from the gorillas, a large bag of Peanut Butter Winkies from the badgers, a hand-crafted boomerang from Joey, and birthday cards from the rest.
"Er, Kowalski, what's this one say?" asked Private as he held out a postcard.
"Ah, I was getting to that one. Your Uncle Nigel is coming to visit today."
"Uncle Nigel?" Skipper piped up. "You do mean Super-Secret Special Agent Nigel right?"
"Of course, unless I have another uncle named Nigel, I think he's the one."
"Right then! I want this HQ to be spruced up from top to bottom, left to right, topsy to turvy, until it's fit enough for a Special Agent like Private's uncle. Now get to it!"
"Ay-ay!" called Rico as he regurgitated a mop and a bucket.
"But Skipper, I don't think it's necessary!" said Private, hobbling to Skipper's side.
"Nonsense Private! Besides, our HQ doesn't even look like an HQ. Rico, polish those missiles. Kowalski, put your best weapon inventions on display!"
"Skipper, forgive me for the irrationality, but considering all of my inventions are the best, which one?"
"The one that doesn't explode when you touch it! Understand?"
"That would be the Anti-Matter Cannon 7000 and the Microwave Ray" muttered Kowalski to himself as he dashed off to the lab.
"Skipper, really, it's not necessary! Uncle Nigel isn't that much of a Tidy Willy."
Private's complaints, however, fall on deaf ear-holes, with everybody concerned about Uncle Nigel's visit, and soon, they fall on none. Private exits the habitat momentarily to clear his head in the water. It has been a year since his Uncle Nigel's last and most significant visit, and Private had no problem admitting to anyone that he missed his uncle. Now, on his birthday, the news of Uncle Nigel's visit was worth a lot more than all those presents combined. He never had the time to ever have a proper conversation with his Uncle, who, as far as he knew, is his last living relative. It's been years since he's ever seen his family. He vaguely remembers his parents, and how strangely they acted at times, especially towards him.
As Private reminisced, he heard a sharp shattering sound followed by Skipper roars of anger. Deciding he spent enough time in the water, he surfaced and leapt up. Sighing heavily, he descended down the hatch and into a place he didn't recognize. It looked more of a war memorial museum than the habitat Private lived in. Dozens of weapon racks decorated the walls, some of them Private recognized as Kowalski's inventions, the floor was carpeted, and instead of seeing the plaque of his first prize, he found a fireplace with a stack of logs crackling with the blaze within. Rico was licking off the dirt on the Anti-Matter Cannon; Kowalski was aligning the decorations down to the slightest angle, and Skipper was in the middle of the room, barking instructions to the two.
Still awed, Private made his way over to Kowalski, who was carefully balancing himself on one toe planted on a stool while using a magnifying lens to gently align the rocket launchers to achieve symmetry with the rest of the room.
"Kowalski, er, why are you doing all this?"
"Isn't it obvious Private? With your Uncle coming to visit our shamble of an abode we knew we had to spruce things up."
"But why?"
"Oh, right, you're looking at it from your perspective." muttered Kowalski as he gently set himself down and put away the stool he was standing on. "Well, you see Private, your Uncle is now the best special agent known to penguinkind, ever since Buck Rockgut's nervous breakdown of course. So as his nephew, you may not view him as the best penguin secret agent ever; perhaps you simply view him as your uncle. But to us, Special Agent Nigel coming to visit is having the most famous celebrity ever in our home!"
"Oh, I see. Well, don't you think it's a little – er – too much?"
"As Skipper said earlier, 'nonsense, Private'. Personally, I find our habitat still horribly under expectations."
Private's gaze drifted off to Rico attaching brightly colored balloons to the mantle of the fireplace, and Skipper placing a banner with a birthday cake emblazoned on it on it.
"That should do it!" said Kowalski as he lay his magnifying lens down on the table beside him.
"Kowalski, don't you think you're all a little – er – obsessed about my uncle?"
"Oh Private, your uncle's visit is as much a blessing to you as it is for us. I mean, when will you ever get the chance to meet your own hero?"
"Well besides you, I've always wanted to meet Paul McCartney and Elton John. I don't really understand what they're singing about but it sounds heavenly."
"Exactly, but instead of you, it's us, and instead of those people, it's Special Agent Nigel."
Private's mouth opened to make a quip, but silenced himself as he heard a rapping on the metal hatch, followed by a voice that sparked much joy within him.
"Hello? Private? I'm here."