profDisclaimer: Madagascar characters belong to the good people at DreamWorks. If they're from the movie, they're not mine; characters you don't recognize are from my imagination unless otherwise specified. I write to distract myself from my work, not for profit. So don't sue me! I own nothing but textbooks, anyways.

This was originally intended to be a stand-alone vignette. However, it grew into the longer, episodic story that will be posted just as soon as it has a working title! Consider this the prologue to the prologue.

Reviews are very, very welcome! No flames, please.

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Alex clapped his paws over his ears.

The drums.

Day, night, it didn't matter.

He always heard them. They never stopped.

For a while -- two days, at most -- Alex had enjoyed the lemur raves, the nonstop cavalcade of music, dancing, and food. Life was good, he decided. Not great, because great would mean the boat would run and Alex could go home. But it was good and he could live with good for now.

The lemurs and the "New York Giants" lived in peace. The fossa were gone. No longer in danger of being torn limb-from-limb, King Julien and the lemurs kicked the partying up a notch. They were currently on day four of what was shaping up to be a weeklong party bender.

There were no clocks in the jungle, but the sun had set hours ago. Alex yawned and stretched, then stuck his head out of his jungle hut.

"Hey," he yelled, "Excuse me?" Lemurs bounced around, swung from vines, moved to the jungle beat. Alex sighed and cleared his throat. "ROOOOAAAAAAAARRR!"

That got their attention. The entire colony stopped in their tracks, frozen in mid-dance step.

They all stopped, that is, except for little Mort. He turned and ran screaming into the bushes.

The lemurs stood, wide eyed. High up in a baobab tree, King Julien XIII gave a worried glance to his advisor, Maurice.

"Sorry to startle you, folks," Alex apologized. "But can't a guy get some sleep around here?"

The lemurs just stared.

"Sleep?" Julien asked and Maurice shrugged.

"Never mind," Alex muttered. He slunk away through the forest, heading for nowhere in particular. He could hear the music, going strong.

Hours later, Alex stood in a very non-lion fashion on his hind legs, staring out at the ocean at a ruby-colored sun rising over the horizon. Cerulean waters lapped at the sugar white sand.

It was heaven on Earth. Paradise.

And yet...Alex sighed and flopped down, hugging his knees. The sound of the sea was hypnotic, buzzing.

Buzzing?

Alex jumped up, squinting into the sunrise.

At first he saw nothing, his ears much keener than his eyes. Then, he spotted it.

A plane! An airplane!

At first, it was only a black speck on the horizon. Alex watched as the plane circled low over the ocean and headed for the beach.

'This is it,' Alex thought, 'My chance to get rescued!' Not that he didn't like living on the island...he did. But New York City would always be his home and nothing he could do would ever change that.

Alex waved his paws up at the plane. "Hey! Down here!" he called, running down the beach after the aircraft. The plane climbed, circling twice before banking over the island and heading back out to sea.

Alex watched it go.

"Hey, Allie-Al," Marty called. He trotted across the sand. "What's up? Where've you been all day?" He started firing questions at his friend.

"Did you see it, Marty? The plane?" Alex asked. He wondered if he had only imagined he aircraft.

"Yeah, I saw it. Why --" Marty frowned, confused. And then it hit him: Alex still wanted to go home. "Oh..."

Alex sat down away from the ebbing tide. "Do you ever think about New York?" he asked.

"Of course," Marty answered quickly. 'I think about living in a cage, about the noise, about the lack of purpose,' he thought, but did not speak out loud.

"I miss it, Marty. I miss the atmosphere. I miss the crowds...I miss..." he shook his head. "I miss being a star."

Marty plopped down in the sand alongside Alex. "I've been thinking," he began, "just because we live in paradise, we shouldn't have to give up on performing. We can refine the act, perform for the locals. We could do Cats."

"You know, I always wanted to direct," Alex said with a grin. He liked that idea. Leave it to Marty to cheer him up.

The pair sat in silence for a moment, and then Alex asked, "Do you think we'll ever see the City again?"

"One day," Marty said, nodding with conviction. "I promise, you'll see New York City again."

"You really think so?" Alex arched an eyebrow. He had his doubts.

Marty smiled. "Start spreading the news..." he began.

END