I'm Canadian. The only reason that this is important in any way at all is because since I'm Canadian, this is the first time I've been to NY. Because this is the first time I've been to NY, naturally I went to Central Park, and the Central Park zoo.
Before we begin this story, here are a few other things that you may want to know about me; My name is Al, I'm a cartoonist, a writer, a bit of a geek, a young teen girl, and I love penguins. I know it sounds totally girly to say that I would absolutely love to squeeze a penguin. . . but it's true, unfortunately. Give me a break! They're so squeezable!
I only recently fell in love with penguins. Nowadays, there are a kajillion little drawings of penguins in my sketchbook, my avatar is a penguin (in case you haven't noticed) and I look for TV shows involving penguins in any way at all.
Today, I was hanging out at the Central Park zoo. I had no obligations to fulfil that day because I was allowed out for as long as I wanted because my parents weren't there (Mum, if you read this, I promise I will never do anything as stupid as the following! I SWEAR!). As you can imagine, I savoured this victory and went gallivanting around the neighbourhood and beyond.
I wandered throughout the zoo, taking note of the otter habitat (AMG THEY SOO CUTE!), the lemurs, elephants and other animals. I lingered for a particularly long time around the reptile exhibit. For someone who adores penguins, otters and dolphins, you wouldn't think that the creepy crawly lizards, spiders, snakes and komodo dragons would appeal to them. But, then again, I have never fallen into the realms of normal.
I also have a habit of falling into the world of imaginary things.
Right then, I had fallen into that imaginary world where the sky is a bubblegum pink, the clouds are yellow and instead of raining water it rains lemonade. In this imaginary world, there were huge, puffy marshmallows that you could sleep on, but I wouldn't do that because that would be sticky and gross and I really like blankets. There would also be a giant field made of paper with pens, pencils erasers and other art supplies sticking out of the page in a few little random clumps. Food would be brought to me by tiny purple ninjas who would also. . .
I ran smack into a support pillar and clocked my head on the metal. A few people nearby noticed and chuckled a bit, so I ducked my head and blushed, then bowed to them flamboyantly and continued on.
I blinked in the bright sunlight as I left the gloom of the reptile house, and to block it out I pulled my hat down more firmly on my head. It sort of resembled a baseball cap in a weird sort of way, but it didn't have the hole in the back and instead of having a cap and then a brim it sort of merged together into one piece. It's kind of complicated to describe, but all I know is it was a thirty dollar hat and I got it for ten bucks. Pretty good deal for an artist as poor as I.
A cold gust of wind blew through the park and I hugged onto my hoodie for warmth – it wasn't the best choice of clothing for a cold autumn day, but I was used to wandering around in nothing but a hoodie so that's what I always wore.
When I took my hands off of my hat, to hug myself for warmth, the gust of wind blew my hat off of my head and sent it tumbling through the park. I panicked, then took after it, not caring about how cold the weather had suddenly become.
I chased it past the gorilla habitat, the kangaroo exhibit and ran around the chimps who were hanging there by their abnormally long arms, heads cocked as they tried to figure out what I was doing. I finally managed to catch up to it and the penguin exhibit, then I made a leap and stomped on it as hard as I could.
"Finally!" I sighed, reaching down and picking it up. It now had a huge, dark footprint right in the centre from my hiker. "Dammit. . ." I muttered, brushing off the dirt. "Stupid wind. . ."
I glanced up and raised my eyebrows. "Oh. I'm by the penguins. Sweet!"
I hopped to my feet and skipped gaily over to the edge of the rink, standing on tiptoe so I could peer in. There, of course, I saw three tuxedo wearing birds, waddling around. I raised an eyebrow because one of them was standing at the edge of the false ice floe, looking around for something. A few seconds later, another penguin popped up under a hatch beneath their food dish. I jumped slightly, for this startled me, and looked around to see if anyone else around me noticed the sudden appearance of the fourth penguin, but to my surprise no one was around.
Puzzled by this, I glanced up at the giant clock above the entrance of the zoo and discovered that it was closing time. "Oh," I said. "So that's why there aren't many people left."
"You got that right."
The voice was coming from just in front of me, which struck me as odd because I had both hands on the rail. Slowly, I turned my head to look and I came nose-to-nose with a penguin with a flat head. Or, more appropriately, nose-to-beak.
My jaw dropped, but I didn't have enough time to have any other reactions because the flightless bird quickly smacked me in the jugular vein and I was out cold.
At first, all I could see or feel was the darkness. I thought that this was interesting because I had never fainted or been knocked out before, so I decided to to remember the experience as much as I could.
The next thing I felt was cold, hard concrete. It wasn't the rough kind of concrete that is in outdoor basketball courts and things, but it was smooth, shiny and like a counter top.
I tried to move my wrists apart, but to my dismay they were bound behind my back. The rope was coarse – like the rope that huge fishing boats use – and it hurt my wrists when I moved. I was pretty sure that there would be a rash there in a few minutes, or at least a bunch of really scratched up skin.
I opened my eyes, then squinted in the glare or the harsh fluorescence. I immediately hated the lights. Fluorescent lights and I have a long, hard history which I don't particularly care to delve into at the moment, but I can tell you that I have always hated them. Probably because I can't help associating them with jail.
"Skipper, I've found a suspicious object!" said a voice that was out of my range of vision. "It looks like it could possibly be a communication device!"
"I opt for destroying it!" replied the penguin named Skipper in a fierce tone.
"I believe we ought to hold onto it in the meantime so we could do some research on it," said the first voice.
"Well, if you're going to keep it around here, at least swipe it so you can destroy all tracking devices it may have in it."
"Roger that, Skipper." I heard footsteps as the first voice walked away.
"Skippah!" a British voice piped up. "I've found some drawings in this book!"
"Hand 'em over, Private," said the voice named Skipper. I heard the sound of pages being turned, then I cringed as I heard a loud SNAP!
"Oops," said a coarse voice.
"Rico!" said Skipper. "No destroying evidence! If I catch you breaking another pen, I swear. . ."
I was done. If they were breaking my favourite pens and weren't planning on replacing them, they were going to get it, that's for sure!
I sat up and tried to move my feet, but one of my ankles was tied to the floor. The other foot, however, was completely free.
"She's awake!" cried the penguin with the accent, Private.
"No shit," I muttered, trying to stand and failing miserably. My head cracked the concrete and I was dazed for a few seconds, during which the last penguin returned to the room and all four of them had hold of me.
"Stay still," said Private.
"And no one gets hurt!" said the penguin whose name I didn't know.
"Yeah!" squawked the penguin named Rico.
"Oh, I don't think we'll be able to spare such leisure," said Skipper. "Now, tell us your objective, spy!"
"Spy?" I asked. "Well, I've always wanted to be one, but I can't say that I've had the good fortune to actually graduate to that level."
"That's an awful lot of fancy words coming from a kid spy," said Skipper with a sneer. He hopped up onto my chest and stared directly into my eyes. I'm not good with close contact and I struggled, but the penguins were tougher than I had thought and held me still.
"So. . ." said Skipper silkily. "Are you working for Doctor Blowhole?"
"Am I working for what the who?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Doctor Blowhole!" yelled Skipper with a jump. "Surely you have heard of the diabolical dolphin fiend with a bionic eye and. . . no soul. . ." he hissed.
"Would it offend you if I said no?" I asked, struggling into a sitting position.
Skipper gently tumbled off of me and landed on the floor. "Search her!" he commanded to his team with a wave of the flipper. "Turn the very cuffs of her jeans inside out!"
Suddenly, the penguins were all over me, patting me down and locating anything that was deemed "dangerous". They took my watch, my iPod, my chapstick, the receipt that I got for cotton candy, then they stuck their flippers in my sweater, checked the cuffs of my hoodie, jean jacket and jeans, then the one called Rico stuck his flipper inside my shoe.
My feet are pretty ticklish. I'm not ticklish anywhere else, so no one would guess, but if someone touches my feet just right, the reaction they get out of me can be hilarious.
Or painful.
In this case, it was painful because I let out a laugh then kicked my foot. Really, really hard. Hikers – my favourite shoes – are really tough because they have a hard rubber tip that hurt a lot if you kick someone. Well, that's what my friends tell me, anyway. Especially right after I kick them for doing something stupid.
After my foot made contact with Rico's stomach, he flew across the room and smacked into the opposite wall, then he slumped down onto the floor and didn't rise.
The other three penguins froze, and I took this time to stand up. I picked at my wrist bondage and kicked my foot until it was free, then I jumped to my feet and started rubbing my wrists.
"Jeepers creepers," I said. "That rope is tough! Didn't you have anything, I don't know, softer?"
"Disarm her, men!" called Skipper, and the three remaining penguins surrounded me.
I drew myself up to my full height and said, "If you try anything, I will kick you in the crotch so hard it will start to bleed, understood?"
The penguins paused, not sure if my threat was legitimate, and I took the moment to smoke one of them – the penguin whose name I wasn't sure of – across the face with my foot and sent him sailing into the wall next to Rico.
"Kowalski!" cried Skipper.
So that's his name, I thought.
Private and Skipper attacked me and I found myself flat on my back on the floor once again with Skipper on my chest.
"I'll ask you again," said Skipper slowly. "Who do you work for?"
"No one!" I said. "I'm a self employed cartoonist! Now, bugger off and leave me alone!"
"I think she's telling the truth, Skippah," said Private who was standing by my shoulder.
Kowalski and Rico both let out loud groans and Skipper said, "But what about when she attacked them?" he asked, pointing to his comrades.
"Strictly self defence!" I argued. "Now, get off of me!" I jumped to my feet and Skipper crashed to the floor.
"Stop doing that!" he groaned, rubbing his head.
"Why don't you stop climbing up on my chest?" I asked with a hint of a threat in my tone.
Skipper stood and glared at me angrily. Any terror which that look may have inspired was greatly lost in the height difference.
"Anyway," I continued. "You have no evidence at all that I'm a spy, so. . . so quit jumping on me like that! It really pisses me off!"
There was a long silence. Not the kind of silence that's peaceful or even awkward, no. This was the kind of silence that hums in your very ears to the point where it starts to get on your nerves.
"So. . . you're not a spy?" asked Skipper.
I groaned in frustration. "YES! Now GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK HEAD!"
Another pause. "My apologies."
"Damn right," I muttered bitterly, moving to grab my shoulder bag with my sketchbook in and what was left of my pens and pencils in it. "Now, if you excuse me," I said. "Now, I must bid you adieu." I started towards the exit, but Skipper slid over on his belly and blocked the way.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But we have to check and see if the coast is clear. It's regulation orders."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "FINE. As long as I can get out of this hole."
Skipper frowned, said, "I resent that comment," then quickly clambered up the ladder. After a few moments, he immediately slid back down and gave me a look which I wasn't sure how to perceive.
"So. . ." I said. "Can I go?"
"Negative, soldier," he said. "Night watch is on duty. You'll have to wait until Oh-six hundred hours before you can sneak out."
"Wait, NIGHT watch? How long was I knocked out?"
"Four hours."
Quick as a kitten jacked on catnip, I snatched Skipper up and held him in front of me. "It's YOUR goddamn fault! Why did you have to capture me? GIT!"
Skipper raised a flipper, then cracked me on the back of the neck, and I was knocked out for a second time that day.
Honestly, considering that I lead such an incredibly reckless life, I was amazed that I hadn't been knocked out before I met those penguins. The same can't be said for me now, of course, because as of these days I've been knocked out more times than I have fingers, but it still amazes me that I had the good fortune not to break a bone in my body or be knocked unconscious before I was a teen.