Disclaimer: I do not own the Penguins Characters.
Thanks all for the positive feedback on the last chapter, and I hope for that positivity to continue with this one. In it, Marlene will be celebrating the joys of the Yuletide season, meeting her new neighbors, and finding out why you should always check to see if the stove is off before you leave. Also, Marlene's childhood will be briefly touched upon.
02: Meet The Neighbors.
…I really can't stay—
-but baby it's cold outside—
"I've got to go away…" she sang along at an earsplitting volume, tossing the spaghetti in the pot effortlessly and placing the tongs on the counter, bustled away to ready her outfit for Gloria's dinner party. Her ecstasy could be felt through the neighborhood; finally, three weeks of getting acquainted with her fellow persons had passed, and mostly everyone that lived in the small cul-de-sac had seen, talked, or met her. She ran into Burt Barlestein, a gentle man topping three-hundred pounds at the supermarket, buying cans for underprivileged children. Doris Eves, a lithe blonde that lived adjacent to Marlene, invited her to go clubbing. And even Joey Maloney, a grumpy 'bloke' from down under slid her a few pointers about the mixed ensemble of the neighborhood. And finally, Gloria Merkowitz and her husband Melman invited the cast to a Christmas get-together at their place; the cast including her.
"This really has been…" slipping off the shirt and pants, she pulled a slim maroon dress over her form, untying her braided hair and letting it fall onto her shoulders as she hummed the words of the holiday classic, "so very nice…"
Marlene adorned the matching red pumps (though her face and the floor almost became acquainted as she struggled to put the damn things on) and putting the final touches on her makeup and outfit, she turned off the lights to her room. The clicking of her heels was the only sound in the empty ranch, as she made her way through the living room and into the abandoned kitchen. She put the meal on the stove to wrap when she came home, to eat another day; the party had been a complete surprise to her, and she had just recently found out after making a piping hot batch of spaghetti, but Marlene wasn't much complaining, not when the prospect of new acquaintances and new adventures awaited her.
'-I ought to say no, no, no sir-'
'-Mind if I move in closer—'
Subconsciously, the words to the song spilled from her lips as she tidied up the residue in the living room from lazy nights past. Of course she didn't expect company, but, like her mother, she always loved a clean, neat house to come home to after a long night out, and, like the song, the need to clean so a spotless home would be awaiting her, had been engraved into her subconscious since her early years.
'Would Mom be proud, or what?' she thought, gazing over her foyer with pride, though she felt a small wave of melancholy wash over her. Looking over her living room, her kitchen, the whole damn house, Marlene knew in her heart that her mother was up there, somewhere, so proud of her daughter for going to pursue a life of her own instead of being dragged into the slum life like her dear dad; the thought of her father, wallowing in debt and probably incarcerated again actually appeared so quickly it brought tears to her eyes, but she wiped them away with a smooth arm.
"No crying tonight, Marlene," she warned herself, clicking the lights to the foyer off, "not tonight."
The kitchen was the only room still brightly lit; the holiday music still filled the otherwise silence with its upbeat and merry tunes, and as she finally plunged the kitchen into darkness, even that had to end.
'-I really can't stay—'
'—baby don't hold out—'
"Oh," the song stopped abruptly, and Marlene, grabbing her jacket and keys, locked the door behind her, still singing along even as the freezing gust nipped at her legs, "but it's cold out-side…"
"Subject twenty-six approaching the Merkowitz residence," she walked along the path, her lips mouthing what was most likely a pesky song that got stuck in her head, and he quickly scribbled down a few key points on the worn paper, "sporting a purse, heels, low cut dress—"
He managed to hold back a yelp as the binoculars were yanked away from him, and he was nearly tossed from his lookout point by a heavier, stronger being. Said being had completely commandeered his visuals, and let out a low whistling sound as he pulled some of the blinds back to look out the window.
"Hubba hubba-"
"Settle down, soldier," the two turned at the exact same time, and instantly the larger man handed the binoculars back to the lanky lookout, snatching them back with a content look on his face; the captain watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, brushing his jet black hair out of his eyes, "for all we know, she could have the cold, unfeeling soul of a Dane."
"Negative, Skipper," the lanky man disagreed, flipping through past pages before he finally settled on the one he searched for, "we may not know much about our new neighbor, but from tapped calls, we have figured out her name is Marlene Sullivan; definitely no Danish name. And we believe she comes somewhere from the West coast. California, I believe."
The leader, Skipper, nodded in satisfaction, "The best news I've heard all day. Has she any connections with the Doctor?"
"Negative."
"Well, good," a second time he nodded, grasping the binocular's out of the other's hands and cracking a single blind; from a distance, he watched as the new neighbor shook hands with Melman and Gloria, watched as she was suddenly blindsided by a giddy, already party-crazy Julien, and shook his head, "let's see how long she lasts."
"She looks like she spooks easily, sir. I calculate another two weeks before she decides to re-pack."
"I like her."
Quieter, more reserved footsteps made the floorboards creak, though very slightly. The leader didn't pry his eyes away from the party as a piece of yellow hair was caught in his vision, and someone beside him opened the window a tad, looking out to the alight house of the Merkowitz wordlessly.
"You like everyone, Private. "
The kid glared, crossing his arms, "But she seems nice."
"Private, if I trusted everyone based on how they seem, I'd be dead about now." Skipper shot back, patting the cadet on his head with love, "Never trust on appearance. For now, we'll just wait; for all we know, she could be a Russian spy in disguise, waiting for us to approach her so she could trap us in her web of communism."
"She isn't a spider, Skipper."
"I know. But it was a damn good analogy, wasn't it?"
And with those few words, he walked out of the room, busying himself with whatever a leader had to busy himself with. Rico followed after, at the sound of his stomach growling for food, and Kowalski after him, mumbling something about automatic Snow Cone shooters. Always with the snow-cones, that crazy guy.
And then there was one; quietly (he did everything so quietly, all the time) Private grabbed Kowalski's binoculars, slightly prying open a blind with his finger. He sighed to himself, as the sounds of music and laughter and happiness filled up the silent room. He wished he could go over there and dance, just have fun and socialize, to not be cooped up in the same house with the same people on the same missions-
Same, same same.
Finally, Private set the thing down, suddenly too downtrodden to listen to the music of others, or the laughter of other's joy; he padded across the room, shutting the door, and the blind clicked back into place.
It was to her understanding that there was only one relative of Julien; and that was Julien.
"Marlene," he drawled in his native tongue, pointing to two relatively same-sized people, though she could tell one was significantly older than the other, "I would like to be introducing you to my cousin, Maurice," the older man, much darker than Julien, waved, "and his nephew…Mort." The younger waved his little hand back and forth, big eyes alight in pure delight, and Marlene managed to choke back an aw at the cute action.
"How'y doin ma'am?" she slightly bent down to reach Maurice's extended hand, surprised he had the accent of someone who spent their entire life in the Bronx; he must've known she was going to ask, because as her mouth opened, he interjected with a smile, "we've been living here for quite some time now. Long enough for me to drop the accent and learn English. He had just as much time as me to learn," he gestured over to a preoccupied Julien, trying to flirt with an annoyed Doris, who ended up soaked in punch a second after, "as you can see, he didn't give it much of a try."
"Shocker."
"Hello, new pretty neighbor!" Marlene jumped, suddenly startled as a small thing jumped near her, and before she had time to raise her leg and kick it away, it latched on, "my name is Mort! I like singing and butterflies and rainbows and mangos and cantaloupe and piñatas and cocoa and snow and parties-"
"We get it, you little freak!" Julien cried, throwing his arms in the air; for a moment, it seemed as if tears dotted at the corner of the boy's eyes, but a minute passed by, and the tears were replaced by a wide grin. He trotted away, probably to get some more sugary-punch, when Marlene felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Hey, girl," Gloria, a hefty but softhearted woman of thirty three waved, and the girl waved back, "how's the party?"
"Great!" She had suddenly been dragged away to meet Julien's relatives, but other than that, it had been going pretty swell; the twins Baron and Barney, nicknames Bada and Bing introduced themselves to her, and Alex and Marty, two best friends that lived way on the other side of the neighborhood told her about their experiences with rogue boats, and how they had all accidentally boarded a ship headed to Madagascar; she listened from beginning to end in awe, "there was actually a lot of people I didn't know."
"Tell me about it," Melman, the sickly accountant that Gloria found herself happily married to agreed, rolling his eyes, "you think you would know this neighborhood, right? Turns out there were actually a few people I didn't know existed, including you; I almost burn the whole house down while making the food!"
"It's true; he left a burner on and his 'kiss the cook' cloth went on fire. It took two buckets of—"
"Burner?" the gears began to whirr in her head, and she looked through the married couple, staring at the dark-skinned girl with confused eyes. She remembered making the spaghetti, taking it out of the bowl and putting tin-foil over it to save for another day, but the flame, she didn't remember ever touching the damn flame—
"Burner!" She darted away, leaving a puzzled Melman and a concerned Gloria calling her name, but she had no time to look back; no, not when she could already smell the smoke in the air, feel the heat of the fire as it engulfed her house in its blazing grip, leaving her with nothing except the apartment filled with the smell of cat piss and smoke to look forward to…
Outside, the cold stung at her cheeks like freezing wasps. The night was still dark, and the air still pure, and no wisp of smoke or flame of red to taint the beauty of the winter evening. And decidedly, that was the way she wanted to keep it.
Finally, she had cleared the house; only the frosty street remained between her and the burner. Marlene, so caught up in the fear of her house catching fire, did not stop to notice the mini-van coming from her right, barreling across the street. But a few party patrons, curious of her sudden departure did.
"Marlene!"
"Look out!"
"There's a car! A car!"
And suddenly, the headlights were so bright, they blinded her. It reminded the girl of paintings on church walls that deciphered heaven. They were always so pretty, so bright, so bright…
Something hard barreled into her, and as she just registered the sound of screaming and the honking of a still moving car, everything vanished.
I have nothing against Russians, or the Danish.
