Sorry for not updating for a long time! I just lost inspiration, but I have managed to find some more these past few months! Hooray! So without further ado, here is Chapter 25 of my epic feature-length story, Antarctica!

Feel free to pelt me with any objects in your vicinity.

Somebody to Love

At night, the graduates gathered at the Concert Berg to party, celebrate, and listen to each other's talents.

Choir: Can anybody find me somebody to love?

And now it was Gloria's turn, and she was backed up by a choir of peers.

Gloria:
Each morning I get up
I die a little.
Can barely stand on my feet!
Take a look in the mirror and cry a little.
Lord, what you doing to me?

Gloria & Choir:
I spent all of my years in believing you!
I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody,
Oh somebody,
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Gloria:
I work hard!
Every day of my life!
I work till I ache my bones!
At the end,
Of each passing day,
I take home my hard-earned pay on my own!
Then I bow down my head and I start praying!
Till the tears come down from my eyes, Lord!

Gloria & Choir:
Somebody,
Please somebody,
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

C: She works hard!

Gloria:
Everyday! Oh I try and I try and I try!
But everybody wants to put me down!
They say, they say I'm going crazy!
I gotta lot of water in my brain!
I got no common sense!
I got nobody left to believe in!

Choir: That's what they say!

All: Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

Mumble had managed to restrain himself until the final bit.

"Yeah! YEAH! YAH! YAH! YAAAAAGH!" he sang, or more accurately, squawked. Everything stopped and awkward silence descended as plenty of pairs of brown eyes locked with his blue ones.

"Mumble," called Gloria from the stage, "Maybe it would be better if you just, you know... just–"

"Just listen?" he sheepishly replied, "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Keeping a fake smile on his blushing face, he said, "Just ignore me. Just continue the song, alright?"

Gloria felt the need to say something – only she didn't know exactly what. So she just opted to continue.

Gloria:
Oh baby find me.
Oh baby please find me.
Oh-oh-oh please do.
We're searching the high and low!
It's time to search high and low!
Somebody who cares,
Who supports,
For whom I can return the love.
It can't just be anybody!

Gloria & Choir: Can anybody find me...?

Gloria: Somebody to... Love!

"L-AAAAAAAAHH-VE!"

Poor Mumble just couldn't resist trying again to connect with her – to bind their spirits in heart and song. But it was all in vain.

"MUMBLE!" everyone (bar Gloria) shouted. They were definitely pissed now.

"We've had it up to here with your crap!"

"Get the eff out of our faces!"

"You're a deranged piece of meat – get killed and eaten already!"

None of these taunts hurt more than the stare that Mumble and Gloria locked with each other. It was a stare of failed love. It was a stare that explained with no words why they just couldn't be together. Mumble knew he was beaten. And Gloria knew that despite her high status, not even she could persuade society to change their stubborn traditions. Gloria could only watch as Mumble just... retreated.

"Bertie, Claude, let's escort our talentless boy to the perimeter, shall we?" came the voice of the firstborn.

Mumble had already made it almost halfway down the Concert Berg and away from prying eyes when the three ruffians caught up with him.

"Hey pal," spat a voice, "We think you could use an escort."

"Oh blast it, you damned–"

Mumble didn't get to finish as he felt a flipper whack him in the back of the head. He spun round and brought both flippers up to shove Seymour flat on his back. Another flipper hooked him on the right side. That came from Bertie. Mumble retaliated sucker-finning him. Claude didn't even get a hit in as Mumble kicked him in the crotch and punched him against the ice wall.

However, three hulks against one average guy is a losing battle, as Mumble found out the hard way when Seymour headbutted him in the stomach, punched him in the chest, and Bertie gave the final blow to the head which knocked him off the edge. Luckily there was a small, separated piece of floating ice big enough to hold one emperor penguin.

Too bad Mumble landed headfirst on it. Some blood seeped out from behind the prone penguin's head.

"Success," laughed Bertie.

"Should we dispose of the evidence?" asked Claude, smirking at the body.

"Nah, the current's carrying it away, brother," Seymour finished, with sickening satisfaction, "We've ridden our colony of that unworthy disease. Let's head back. Don't say anything to anyone, though."

"Right," both of his accomplices said.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, on a small floating iceberg, there was someone alive. Yes, he had a serious injury, but it would heal with time and make him stronger. He may have been deeply unconscious, suffering in his tormenting dreams, but his heart was strong.

For now, that was all he needed.

END OF ACT 1.