*** Royal portrait ***

Inspired by "In the gallery", written by Mark Knopfler.

.

The sky was clear in that fresh March morning. Winter was in its death throes, and so was life for some of the zoosters: the end of their winter. Any sunbeam was a glimmer of hope and reached to them as a rain full of life. They had left behind the adventures, the missions, the team work. What remained was rest, slow and bright before it became dark and eternal. New York ran at different speeds, and Central Park Zoo imitated that movement. For them, getting old was hard too.

"Eh, silly penguins! I have news!"

Six pairs of eyes stared incredulous at King Julien. His fur had become matte, his movements had become slow and he seldom wore his crown, but he was as insolent as when he arrived at the zoo.

Julien knew that he hadn't grabbed their attention but, as he always did, he went on.

"My royal portrait is in the zoo gallery!"

"Well... what do I care?" Skipper replied.

Why didn't they applaud? Why didn't they congratulate him?

"Haven't you heard me, silly penguins?" Julien insisted. " My royal portrait is in the zoo gallery."

"I have heard you, spoiled lemur," Skipper answered. "But we don't care about that."

"I think it's good news," Private intervened. "They have finally recognized Maurice's talent."

"Posthumously," Kowalski reminded them with sadness.

"Better late than never," Private commented.

"I don't know what to say, Private." Skipper's voice sounded weary. "He never complained of not having his paintings there, but it would have been a deserved recognition. Now it's not very useful."

Julien crossed his arms. "Then it's your loss."

"Okay," Skipper said annoyed. "Let's make fun of you when you were young."

The penguins followed the lemur king slowly.

.

The gallery was in the former reptile house. There was an idea contest when they decided to relocate the reptiles in a bigger place and an idea which looked delirious had ended triumphing and getting most visitors' votes. That place wasn't that dark place where the penguins had clashed Barry or Savio anymore, or the entrance hall to the mysterious world of chameleons. It was a hall full of life where, for a while, some pictures painted by the zoosters themselves had been placed.

There, Mason had managed to put a Picasso-style piece of work to which he had never really given importance. Next to it there was a Miss Perky's portrait, quite schematic and minimalist, painted by Rico (and so many better works were stored in the HQ hidden levels) and, next, that piece of rock. When they wanted to have a piece of work made by Marlene, she had insisted that she only painted on stone and there had been no other option than getting it with explosives, a task obviously made by Rico surprising all those who were expecting him to produce a structural failure collapsing all the otter habitat. But no, Rico had extended the space inside the habitat not endangering it. And the masterpiece: the picture that Burt had managed to sneak in Central Park Museum by opening a hole in the wall. It was an example of abstract art almost as perfect as Kowalski's plan, which wasn't there because he had eventually destroyed it when discovering a miscalculation he had overlooked.

And, since that day, the royal portrait. On it, Julien was posing as a warrior. As a hero. He wouldn't have allowed it to be painted in a different way. The solemn pose, the determination and the exaggerated musculature made Manfredi guffaw. Before he said some impertinence, as he used to do, Johnson covered his beak and grabbed him outside. Skipper was looking askance at them. In what moment, when they knew that both were alive, came to his mind the idea of rescuing them? Though it wasn't respect for Julien, but for Maurice. Private noticed how serious he was.

"I miss them both too," he told him. He noticed Kowalski's puzzled stare and pointed at the canvas top corner.

"Oh... who would have imagined that Mort was so old," was all what Kowalski managed to say.

And now only remained an elderly Julien and his cohort of younger and more apathetic lemurs, who didn't really recognized him as the king he was. Julien was the one who missed them more and shed some tears when he saw the picture. Even that insufferable Mort softened his heart.

Opening the box of memories was too much for everybody there. Even though it was a natural law.

"He has eventually been recognized as an artist instead of a mere artisan," Private said trying to find the bright side of the situation.

"That's what he always said he was, just the royal painter, one more task as the king's right hand," Kowalski reminded. "If you're referring to that..."

Private nodded.

Skipper was watching the portrait attentively. "I'm not an expert in art, but I think this picture deserved having been exhibited a long time ago. I'm unable to understand why that didn't happen."

Everybody stared at Rico, as if just for being an artist he had the answer to that question. He shrugged his shoulders.

In that exact moment, Manfredi and Johnson went inside again. Manfredi was grumbling under his breath.

"I've told him off and I've frightened him a bit," Johnson said stealing a glance at Manfredi. "I hope now you let me see the picture in peace." He got nearer the picture and observed it thoroughly. "Wow! That guy knew how to paint! And better than the others!"

Rico protested about the comment and the disdainful stare that Johnson had given to him. It was personal.

"How come hadn't it been exhibited till now?" It wasn't a rhetorical question, Johnson neved asked just because.

Three figures made their way pushing the penguins, who complained about the impertinence of the newcomers: three chameleons changing colors quickly.

"Hey, a bit slower!" Julien protested. "They've said that today someone has decided that the picture is art."

"They have said nothing!" Johnson replied. "Are you kidding us or what?"

"They speak through colors," Julien explained.

"That's all we needed," Johnson hissed. "Some reptiles who speak through colors. It wasn't enough with the mute penguin."

Skipper confronted him. "Another inappropiate comment and I'll take you back to Seaville."

Johnson huffed and lowered his stare. Skipper always had to be in favor of Rico. He hadn't changed in years.

A shout of joy prevented the situation to get worse. Marlene had just arrived, greeting with her paw, and with her arrived Mason and Phil. They all stared at them. Although they all got older little by little, at the same time and it didn't seem big deal... the greyish fur of the three mammals was a crystal-clear reminder that there was no way back.

"So the chameleons have donated their gift," Marlene said smiling.

"It's much better than the blank canvas that there used to be here."

They all turned and saw Burt, who almost didn't fit in that place.

"A blank canvas?" Johnson asked. "And that is art? Who exhibits a new canvas?"

"A lemur who was here, I think his name was Clemson," Burt explained.

Julien shivered.

"And with what excuse did he hang here... nothing?" Johnson got angry with anything.

"He said that he didn't want to paint, that art was another thing," Burt answered.

"He was another thing!" Johnson shouted. "A phoney!"

Phil and Mason looked at each other. Phil made some gestures and Mason translated them. "What's wrong with you?"

"I can't put up with that kind of people! No lies, no secrets, no - hey, you two!"

Kowalski and Rico had grabbed his flippers and were getting him outside of the gallery by force.

"He's really ill-tempered," Mason judged. "But he's partly right. Maurice didn't have a place here because he was an honest artist."

"You are too," Private reminded him.

"I have a picture here because I can paint three at once, and that is amazing and makes me different. I'm not here thanks to my talent, but thanks to my oddity. The multitask simian," he said rising his arms.

Mason sounded boastful every time he reminded the headlines that Phil had translated a long time ago. Or just every time he spoke.

There was silence.

"But I humbly recognize that Maurice was more talented than me. He had it in his blood, he just had to do it. It was something natural. Did you know that he had many other pictures?"

That interested the chameleons. Julien paid attention to the colors they were showing.

"The chameleons would like to see the other works," he translated.

"Will they hang them here if they like them?" Private asked.

Julien continued observing the chameleons. "They say they're not the ones who decide. Wait, a bit slower. I'm a king, but I'm old! Slow down!"

The chameleons went blank. They restarted.

"Better so. They say that the ones who hung the picture are humans. They found it when they were transferred, and they took it." Julien looked at Skipper. "Tell the bigmouth penguin that he got the wrong enemy. Let him complain to the humans."

Skipper took a deep breath and left the gallery. Soon he appeared with the others. Johnson was still furious, but he had changed his objective.

"They put you in an aquarium which is a jail and they decide what's art and what's not. Humans are vultures!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Manfredi told him patting his back.

"Use that flipper to catch your crutch and leave me alone," Johnson grumbled.

"What if we just enjoy the pieces of work here?" Marlene mediated.

"Your wish is my command, Marlene." Skipper stared seriously at Manfredi and Johnson. "Be quiet and let see if it rubs off on you." He smiled, putting his flipper on Marlene's shoulder before the annoyed faces of Manfredi and Johnson and the complicit smiles of the others. "That's the way I like it."