How fast fortune could change. One moment he was ecstatic, pondering a first kiss with his crush, the happiest little penguin in the world, and the next he was attacked and violated and left outside to sob, broken-hearted and betrayed, still laid on the ground. How could it have gone so wrong? Why did the paw have to be a curse on his life?
How could he do this to me? Private asked himself, over and over. How could he? How could he attack his own soldier like that? Doesn't he love me?
Far too late, Private realised what the look in Skipper's eyes had been when he set eyes on Private.
Lust.
Private groaned into his flippers. He had mistaken the signs – the nuzzle, the pressure on his back, even the stare at his beak when they were eating snow-cones – for those of love, not truly dark desire. Although it felt to Private a little hypocritical to hate Skipper because of Skipper's pervy feelings towards him, Private felt in his heart the familiar surges of hatred he had felt only a few times before... and, of course, there were Skipper's recent actions to consider. With a jolt, he again remembered the Love-u-lasor. It had caused not only love, but hate... violence... pain... fear. Private shivered. He guessed he really hadn't learned anything about messing with natural feelings in an unnatural way.
His tears made his vision swim before him. In his mind's eye, he saw Skipper towering over him... still hearing the echo of his voice... "If you tell anybody what I did, I'll kill you... understand?" Private remembered nodding fearfully. The present him absent-mindedly did the same, as if he was still standing there, watching him. Of course he wouldn't tell anybody. He would do nothing that might encourage more action from Skipper. "Nobody will question me if you disappear. And clean yourself up before you come back inside. You're filthy." Then he had walked away.
Oh, why hadn't he just gone with the kiss?! One stupid mistake had caused all this pain. One stupid, perverted little mistake and his life had come crashing down around him. There was no way he was strong enough to go on after this... serving under him and fighting at his side. Training with him. Eating with him. Receiving a briefing from him, or sharing a joke and a laugh, or even just hanging around inside the base. Especially not sleeping, knowing he was just a few inches away. Private didn't feel like he could ever look Skipper in the face again. He was so ashamed of the greed of his second wish, and he could smell Skipper's musk and the scent of sex lingering in his dishevelled feathers. He really did feel filthy.
What made matters worse for him, his wings ached from being gripped, his ribs throbbed from when he struck the ground, and the skin around his throat felt raw from when Skipper had choked him part way through to get him to shut up. He had lost some feathers from the back of his neck, too. Private couldn't remember how he'd lost them. He guessed that Skipper had tugged them out with his beak when he'd struggled. He sobbed again self-pityingly. His body and heart just hurt so much.
Barely knowing what he was doing, Private rose and walked stiffly towards the edge of the pool, following Skipper's last orders. He gently lowered himself into the water, paddling his feet below the surface. He dunked his head under for a second to rinse his neck. His ruffled plumage settled neatly when the feathers were submerged. With barely any speed, he scrubbed the dust and grit from the concrete off his belly with his flippers, solemnly watching the particles float away from him on the surface of the water. In his post-assualted state, everything had taken on a dreamy, surreal sort of quality. It was like the feeling of knowing you were in a dream... except now, he wasn't. Suddenly filled with rage, he viciously swept a flipper through the water to clear away the bits, as if to clear away the memories of the incident. The water's rippling seemed unreal, and he could barely understand its movement. He continued to study the water until it was still again. His anger faded as the water stilled, and sadness replaced it once more.
Searching for any comfort, any link to the world he once knew, he thought of the beloved Lunacorns – but even they failed to soothe his frayed nerves. The Lunacorns had never had to deal with anything like this. Broken friendships and disastrous birthday parties, yesterday seeming so terribly important, just paled in comparison to what Private had been through, and the memories he felt he would carry around with him forever.
An old Lunacorn phrase slipped into his mind, back from when one of the Lunacorn foals was learning how to fly: 'No matter how many times you fall down, it's how many times you pick yourself up that counts!'
"Yes," he mumbled vaguely to himself, slightly cheered. Then the full implications of these inspiring words sunk in and, far from being comforted, he began to shake as icy talons of dread pierced his heart again. Horrified, he sunk a little lower beneath the surface of the water, as if the yielding liquid could protect him from Skipper's might and lust.
No matter how many times you fall...
It could happen again.
Private hadn't specified only the once to the paw... all he'd said was tonight... but that could mean that Skipper would attack him again that day, after he went inside. Visions of earlier fantasies rose, twisted into force, in his mind. Being grabbed, pushed down and mounted as soon as they were alone... being called into Skipper's office... Skipper climbing into his bunk in the middle of the night and Private's voice and cries being muffled into Skipper's beak...
Nobody would believe him, of course. He'd asked the paw for nobody else to ever find out. They wouldn't believe him even if he managed to gather the courage to speak up.
This left two options. Running away, or going inside and facing what was coming to him like a man... albeit a man who had lost his innocence somewhere along the way.
No, he corrected himself. It hadn't been lost. It had been taken.
He had to go inside. He sniffed his shoulder and could still detect faint traces of sex and Skipper, but a nice hot shower should wash that away for good.
At least until next time, his mind threw at him... how could he do this to me?... but he pushed that thought away.
He hopped back up onto the island and gave himself a shake. Then he walked over to the food bowl entrance and stopped sharply.
He didn't dare go inside.
He stepped back, swayed, and started forwards again. But he couldn't do it – he couldn't seem to get his flipper to push the bowl across. Skipper was inside. He walked around the bowl a few times in a daze, then turned and lunged for the food bowl again. This time he got so close that the tip of his flipper grazed the metal before his courage faltered. He swallowed.
Maybe he wouldn't go in tonight... maybe he would sleep out here. That would raise some questions, certainly, but at least this way he wouldn't be attacked again tonight unless Skipper came outside again... which he probably wouldn't. Yes, that seemed like a good idea.
He backed away from the entrance and was just about to lay down when it opened, and somebody climbed out. Private stumbled backwards in alarm.
"Private? What are you doing out here?" Only Kowalski. Private breathed a sigh of relief.
"I... I was just coming in." Private was relieved to find that his voice wasn't as croaky as he thought it might be after the strangling. It sounded normal, or at least normal enough that Kowalski didn't notice anything different about him.
"Well, hurry up – it's past lights-out. Skipper sent me to find you." He stepped to the side.
Private's blood ran cold. Being called into Skipper's office... "I'll... I... I'm coming in now." He forced himself to step past Kowalski – deja vu made him half-expect Kowalski to grab him like Skipper had – and he made it safely inside the bunker, where he found himself facing Skipper. His heart began to pound again – fortunately, Skipper had his back to him, so Private couldn't see his face. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm gonna quickly take a shower before bed, m'kay?"
Skipper nodded and gestured without turning around. Private nearly dived through the door to the showers, desperate to not be left alone with Skipper.
The warm, comfortable familiarity of home soothed Private, and he soon stopped shaking with terror, though the fear that Skipper would come through the door any second stuck in his mind. Robot-like, without having to think he gathered the soaps and gels he usually used while showering, and spun the knob on the wall to turn on the water. He braced for cold jets but the water was still warm from when the others had showered.
The soft pressure of the jets thudding onto his sore body loosened his muscles and relaxed him significantly. He washed his feathers clean with the temperature of the water a little higher than he usually liked, but he used just as many scented soaps. The smell of sex and Skipper faded from him. Private's usual musk returned, and he was grateful.
Disobediently, his mind turned to Skipper, as it sometimes did when Private was showering. This time, though, the thoughts were not of training or a date or kisses, but instead Private was trying not to think about the fantasy he'd had just after making his second wish (was it only a couple of hours ago that I was so happy? Private wondered), where Skipper had come in while Private was showering and pressed him up against the wall. It had all seemed so... well, so enjoyable back then. Now, he thought, while drying himself off with a towel, the imaginary event seems terrifyingly possible.
How could he?
The shower had helped clear his mind. Private cast his mind around until he found what was the only solution – to wish upon the paw for it all to stop.
But he had to be really, really careful this time... avoid the curse, and not let him or anybody else get hurt. He was just starting to plan what he was going to tell it when he stopped; in idea had struck him:
Maybe Skipper had never wanted to do anything like that – it was just the paw making it happen. Maybe he did love Private, and if it hadn't have been for the magic monkey's paw, he would never, in a million years, have done that to him. On the other hand, maybe Skipper did want to do that to him, and the paw had just given him the final push to attack Private.
Private frowned. He had to know – he couldn't allow himself to not know anymore – how Skipper really felt about him. And since he had three wishes left, it didn't appear to Private to be a waste to use just one to find out how Skipper felt about him, once and for all, before he set things right.
Three wishes in three days. Private had wanted to make the wish that very same night, but Skipper had been watching him closely, probably to ensure he didn't spill the beans on their shared experience.
That was how Private thought of it – an 'experience'. A bad one, one which he still hurt from and one which caused him nightmares, but an experience is something a penguin could learn from.
No matter how many times you fall...
The phrase never seemed to leave his mind. It plagued him, an unwelcome and rather mean thought, but a constant reminder to be careful. And to never let yourself be alone with Skipper again.
As he had laid down that night
(Skipper climbing into his bunk in the middle of the night and Private's voice and cries being muffled into – )
As he had laid down, shivering with the last few traces of fear, his cruel, traitorous brain pulled an ace out of its sleeve:
It could happen again, anytime. You never said it was only tonight. He could attack you at any point in your future life – now, isn't that something to look forward to?
If Private was standing, he thought his legs would probably have given out. He was laid down, and all he did was go slack as dread gripped him once more, and he thought that he would faint dead away. But he didn't. Oh, that was the cruel thing.
For the rest of the night until he fell asleep he replayed the 'experience' over and over in his head. How could he? 'If you tell anybody what I did, I'll kill you...' How could attack his own soldier? "Please, Skippah, no... not like this..."
The 'experience' had only happened once itself, but by the time Private had finally drifted off, it felt as if it had happened a hundred times more.
Three wishes in three days.
The dread never left him. Every sudden move Skipper made when nobody else was looking caused him to flinch and recoil. Private had tried to stare at nothing but his food, the ground or nothing in particular all morning, but Skipper's movements kept catching his fearful eye. The experience still haunted him, and he forbade himself to look at Skipper, although, many more times than once, his feathers seemed to crawl as if to tell him that he was caught in Skipper's gaze. Private never looked around to check when he felt like this, but he had a suspicion that Skipper wasn't just trying to look at his face. He tried to keep his tail feathers as low and unrevealing as he could at all times, as if hiding his back end from view meant that it couldn't be used (or abused) in such a way again. It was like something Kowalski had explained to them ages ago, when life had been a happier time... the placebo effect, or something. The patient thought it worked, and so it did. Private became considerably calmer when he was sure that he was showing nothing. Private was so happy when Skipper retired to his office to collect something, leaving him alone with Rico in the main room.
Slowly but surely, the time ticked by and lunchtime came around. After a meal and some chores, Private was free to do whatever he wished... or to wish for whatever he wanted.
Private sneaked inside the chimp habitat and dug up the paw. When he set eyes on it, for one moment he felt the familiar sensations of awe built within him. This was the first time since he dug it up two days ago that he had seen it in the daylight... he had forgotten how old it was, how much dirt was caked over the fingers, and how cracked and dusty the palm was. An infinite, looping age-line, Private thought idly. Then he remembered what this damned paw had caused him, what it had cost him, too, in terms of comfort, and happiness, and love for Skipper... Private had not looked him in the face since the 'experience'. He couldn't bear to.
That was what pained the most, after the 'experience' was only an awful, humiliating memory. Once the aches dulled and the lingering scents faded away, the only thing that pained him now was the knowledge that Skipper could never love him, and that now he could never love Skipper. Not any more.
He was full of hatred and regret when he lifted the paw again. It struck him how old this object was – surely more than a hundred years old, though by now it looked younger thanks to the wishes' healing powers. And it had ruined his life in less than three days. How many more lives had it ruined? How many more people had been hurt? And how many more hearts were broken, how many people had been attacked by the ones they thought they loved? Private almost threw it down in disgust.
But he held on, and after a few calming breaths he made his third wish:
"I wish that... today, at some point... Skipper would just tell me how he feels about me. How he's always felt about me, since I first came here. And if that changed since... since when I made my first wish." He fell silent, thinking that was probably enough.
The ring-finger folded down, and now the paw was making the peace symbol, as if promising goodwill. It would be more accurate if turned around the other way, Private thought bitterly – then almost laughed. It was strange. He never would have made the connection between those hand-symbols before the paw came around. His mind never used to work that way.
Private watched the palm's skin heal; the cracks and lines faded and the colour returned on it and along the fingers to replace the grey. He buried the paw again, rolled the stone back over, and stood up. He took a deep breath. Now it was time to find out how Skipper felt about him, once and for all... he just hoped that he could get away after learning this without being attacked again.
Private strolled towards the base, humming a happy Lunacorn tune and trying not to think of the whole 'how many times you fall' thing. And failing, miserably. He appeared to be in a good mood at first glance; however, if one looked closer, one could see how his eyes were slightly wide with fear, and how he kept swallowing and shivering with dread. He was very aware that he was about to walk up to the man who had so fiercely taken his innocence... without even knowing how the man would react. Private would stare him defiantly in the face and ask if Kowalski and Rico could leave the room... he would ask some questions (what questions or how he would word them, Private had no idea) and then, Skipper would tell him, and he would finally know. And then
(No matter how many times you fall) (How could he do this to me?)
And then what?
And then I'll run, he told himself. I'll leave and if he tries to chase me I'll run and hide, and then I'll find the paw and tell it to make Skipper leave me alone...
He was outside his habitat. Private took some calming breaths before throwing himself into the penguin pool. He hopped up onto the island in the middle just as Kowalski came topside, followed by Rico, both of them looking highly disturbed about something.
"What happened?" Private inquired, startled.
Kowalski looked at him, then away. "Skipper's... well... he said to send you in if we find you, but... I think you should wait out here with us."
Private blinked at him. Was Kowalski telling him to disobey an order? But they couldn't know... Private pushed away some horrible thoughts (being called into Skipper's office) and replied, "But how long for? What's wrong with him?" Private frowned when they hesitated. Then, telling himself you wished for this chance, now hold your chin up and go, he stormed past them and went inside.
Even before he stepped off the metal rungs of the ladder, he smelled the thick, invading stench of strong alcohol in the air. He knew without looking at him that Skipper was drunk.
For the first time in days, Private turned and looked Skipper in the eye. "You wanted me, Skipper?" He was all too aware of that phrase's ambiguous meaning. So, it seemed, was Skipper.
"Yes, and I took you, didn't I?" He replied slyly. He didn't slur very much, and his eyes were almost as sharp and alert as usual, but he swayed a little on the concrete block he was sitting on. Before him, on the table, sat a large bottle of some small clear strong-looking drink and a drained glass. The label was removed and Private couldn't tell what the liquid was, but it was definitely making Skipper tipsy. He smirked at his young subordinate. To Private, the smile looked full of possession and self-pride. And lust, he thought. Don't overlook lust, like you were so used to doing before your little shared 'experience'.
"I'm here," Private spat out. Now that he was inside, facing Skipper, he found that he was not afraid at all. Instead all he felt was hatred. As he stared the older man down, he couldn't understand how he had ever loved this monster.
"I can see that, Private..."
Impatience bubbled up inside of Private. Harsh feelings he always used to ignore were rising up within him and he found himself doing nothing to stop them. "Well, what do you want?!" He snarled.
Skipper's eyebrow ridge cocked at one side. Otherwise he was silent and motionless except for the swaying in time with his breath.
"You told them to send me in," Private hissed, coming closer to Skipper without realising what he was doing. "You wanted to see me. So?"
Skipper gave him a long look, then broke it to pick up his bottle of clear gin or something, intending to pour some more into his glass.
Suddenly Private lunged, knowing only fury and the wish to pay him back, swiping the bottle out of Skipper's grasp. It hit the floor and shattered.
Skipper's face contorted in anger and his flippers wrapped savagely around Private's neck for the second time in only two days. Private was pinned on his side on the table. Then, just as Private grabbed at these flippers, the pressure receded until Private could breathe again. Skipper didn't let go of him, but he had rethought the action.
Skipper's smirk soon returned. With one flipper, he kept Private pinned down on his side by his throat, and the other began to travel down Private's body.
"No," Private whimpered. He panicked. "Please not again, please Skipper – please don't – no!"
Skipper's smile widened, but he stopped short of where Private was sure he would go. Skipper rubbed gentle circles on his side. "I just wanna talk..."
Private was relieved, but still suspicious. He didn't move. He knew that any movement could anger Skipper, and that was not beneficial to Private's current situation. "Talk about what?" He said quietly.
Skipper considered this. He continued with the circles on Private's side while he thought. After a few moments he spoke again. "I know I've been a little rough with you..."
A noise tore from Private's throat. It was a derisive grunt, dry and mocking, an insubordinate term clearly stating well, ladies and gentlemen, we've found the understatement of the damned century. It was unintentional, and Private himself was surprised to hear it.
Skipper continued like he hadn't heard this comment, for which Private was grateful. "But I... what you have to know... I never planned this. I thought I was in control of the way I feel about you."
Private blinked. Wait, what? He thought.
"Mm, I've always had these... these thoughts about you... but until yesterday evening, I didn't do anything about them..."
He was silent for a while, and his head turned away as he stared into space, but the slow rubbing at the patch just above Private's hip never ceased. Private so desperately wanted to squirm away from his touch. But he didn't dare move.
Then he looked back, and his expression was softer. "I didn't want to hurt you..."
Hope bloomed like a spring flower in Private's chest. If he could set things right with the remaining wishes, could their relationship be saved? Was the evil really only in the paw? "You didn't?" Private whispered.
"No... I always thought I could control myself... I convinced myself that if you were scared by my actions, you'd tell and I'd be removed from head of unit. Maybe even removed from the military... but it's my life, I can't live if I'm not military." His expression became sad for a second, and then brightened. "But you told nobody."
"I thought you didn't want to hurt me?" Private said, full of hope...
"Oh, no Private; you're getting it all wrong." He leaned forwards until his beak almost touched Private's cheek. "I didn't want you to spill what I did to you... but, oh, I've wanted to take you like that for so long..."
Private felt like his guts had been dipped in an ice bucket. All hopes dissolved, and his ability to move stayed locked dormant. "W-what? You...?"
"Yes." Skipper kissed his cheek oh-so-gently, appearing to love the ability to do whatever he wanted without Private moving away. Private smelled alcohol on his breath. It was a dangerous smell. "Since I first met you, I've wanted to do that... but I held back because I feared I'd lose my position of CO. With Johnson, it was never a problem; he was so secretive I knew he'd never talk. And Rico was so obedient he'd do anything at all. But I never got the scope on you... I suspected you were the type to scream."
Before Private could fully grasp these words, the circling flipper was taken away. Private didn't notice it until it grabbed his ankle. He gasped and tried to kick free, and failed. Swiftly he was flicked onto his back, legs splayed, and Skipper joined him on the table... Skipper's feet rested between his and Skipper's beak was on his own before he could yelp. A second passed without movement. With a jolt, Private suddenly realised that the kiss was not just hard and unwanted, but nice. Beneath the hate and fear, there was still love. Terrible, unwanted love that could now never be; love which didn't quite get the life-changing memo from earlier. It made Private afraid in a different way.
A flipper kept his head in place – the same one which was rubbing him so horribly sensually just moments ago – so he couldn't break the kiss when he tried, and then all Private could think was oh gosh, not again. Please.
No matter how many times-
But that didn't seem to be Skipper's intentions. After a second, the kiss was broken and he began talking again.
"Since I first saw you, I wanted to see what it would be like to take you. To grope you and hurt you until you screamed. To have you sobbing and begging." His other flipper stroked Private's other cheek, the first flipper continuing to hold his head still. "I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anyone else... any other soldier I've ever served with, or under." Skipper kissed his cheek again. Then again. "When I first saw you, it hit me so hard I could barely stand to look at you. I suppose I knew I'd rape you eventually."
Private flinched at the R-word like Skipper had brandished a whip at him. It was a terrible word, so non-vague and harsh and swear-like. Somehow he never thought of the 'experience' as that, even though he knew that was the correct word. He shuddered under Skipper. Skipper chuckled and placed another kiss on his cheek, closer to his beak this time. He was working his way across.
"But I thought you were straight," prompted Private hurriedly, trying to keep him talking. If another attack was inevitable then he could at least postpone it for as long as possible.
Skipper kissed him again, at the edge of his beak. "I've had crushes on females... I'm quite the romantic type with the ladies... but, sexually, I've always been more fascinated by men. The only female who I ever had similar thoughts about was Arlene... such a shame she was against us..."
Private, who happened to be one of the few zoo members who believed that Arlene really was just Marlene bleached, digested this, and felt none the better for having done so. Skipper had come so close to hurting Marlene. How many animals had Skipper had thoughts about? And other than Rico and poor Johnson, who else had he harmed in the name of lust? "How many animals have you hurt?" He dared to ask.
"Oh, a few... many... I don't know exactly. Only you, Johnson and Rico for the last few years."
"What did you do to them? What did you do to Rico?" Private held his sick captain's gaze until he answered.
"Usually, I controlled them... mounted them... made them do things. And I've hurt a few, like Johnson. I've made them scream." Skipper kissed his cheek again. "A couple of them... needed to disappear..."
"You killed them?!" Private shrieked, attempting to scramble out from under Skipper, and failing to. "Skippah... you're... you're a killer!"
"Shh... I had them transferred out of the unit, or made a scapegoat of them for crimes I committed to have them taken away." Skipper smiled fondly for a second while Private's heartbeat slowed, as if looking back on some past hobby he had over the summers. "But I don't deny... I killed a few. Accidents. I went too far."
Private cowered underneath him, too shocked for thought. He felt Skipper kiss him on the cheek a couple more times. Then a kiss on the neck, making him shudder, keeping him scared. "Killer," he choked out. "Murderer."
"It was manslaughter," Skipper corrected him gently from under Private's beak. "Accidents... I strangled them or broke their necks... just a few. No more than seven."
"Seven," Private groaned. "Seven." He felt like he was going to pass out. But if he passed out, it would happen again, he convinced himself. Skipper would take advantage of him if he had no one to talk to. So he took deep breaths and forced himself to focus, and asked, "What about Rico?"
Skipper raised his head and looked him in the eyes. "I mounted him a few times. Once I couldn't help myself, I just grabbed him in the showers and pinned him, and when he struggled I hit him until he was unconscious. I don't know what makes me do it, every time."
Lust, Private thought. Seven. Oh dear gosh seven of them. Seven soldiers like me.
"I was more careful after that. I was much more careful after you came. I mounted him again a few months back, but nothing since. I thought I was under control."
Seven soldiers like me. Seven. His lust killed seven.
Eight.
Private was suddenly so sure he was going to be the eighth. "Don't kill me," he whispered.
Skipper looked down at his soldier, and Private saw the first trace of guilt on his face. "This was never meant to happen."
"Please? Skippah?"
"Shh."
It was the same sound – the exact same sound – as before he was attacked the first time. Terrified beyond thought, Private bucked and twisted until Skipper was knocked to the floor with a thud. Private leapt up and hopped over from the table to the bottom of the ladder. He scaled it and was free.
He dived into the water, knowing only to get away, finding himself going in the direction of the paw. The gosh-darned paw which had made this mess. Which would fix this mess too.
Seven, he thought desperately as he flipped over the fence around the pool and landed on the paved path outside. He paused for a half second, listening, and in that time he heard a splash: Skipper was coming. Eight, he thought. He ran. No matter how many –
He leapt onto the low brick boundary wall and down into the chimp habitat –
"Private?"
Private flinched and spun around, finding himself face to face with Kowalski. "What...? Kowalski!" Private felt dizzy with relief. Skipper couldn't kill him here... not with the second-in-command watching. Some of Private's fear evaporated. He still had time.
Kowalski frowned and started to say something, but just them Mason called over to them. They turned.
Phil had finished reading and Mason was translating. "Don't fret – it's only a relatively weak brand of spirit. And a small volume, too. Very little chance of alcohol poisoning, but all the same, make sure he doesn't drink all of it." Mason sighed. "Could never imagine the poor chap drinking so heavily in one sitting – and in the middle of the day, too."
Phil passed the label back to Rico, who promptly swallowed it for safekeeping. Kowalski looked back at Private and asked, "What did he do?"
"Attacked me," Private said breathlessly. "I ran out of the bunker but he followed me. I ran here because... because I thought you might be here." This was a lie, but he knew they wouldn't believe him if he said he was here to make a wish on a magic paw so his boss wouldn't mount him or worse, take his life. The harsh word rape flashed across his mind and he felt his skin prickle under his feathers.
"Hmm... well, back to base, I guess." Kowalski started to head home. Rico followed closely.
Four wishes in three days.
Private stayed where he was after they had gone. He had remembered Rico... Rico, who was always so crazy but friendly, unpredictable yet loyal... if Private wished for Skipper to never attack him again (seven not eight) then wouldn't he just return to abusing Rico? What if he killed him? What if he started to hurt Kowalski, or somebody else? Private couldn't be so selfish. He had to wish for Skipper to stop hurting animals. He had to make his Commanding Officer's reign of abuse end.
Private turned and approached the paw. He had to make Skipper stop...
He pulled it out of the earth and held it up. "I wish Skipper will never hurt anybody like that ever again." The middle finger folded down. The vile paw now looked like it was pointing up at the cloudy sky with its one remaining wish-finger. As Private watched it, the patched fur was returning, sleek and glossy, healthy even. It looked aged but it looked like a real monkey hand now, something a little fresher-looking than one from a taxidermist's. Private noticed it almost felt warm.
Four wishes in three days. A problem discovered; a problem destroyed. Private was wondering what to do with his last wish when he heard it.
A huge BOOM made the ground beneath his feet shiver. A cloud of dust and grit rose in the air over the penguin habitat. A small shock-wave rocked him backwards, and that was when Private realised his mistake.
He dropped the paw on the quivering ground and made his way back to the penguin habitat. A pang of dread like he had never felt before was making him feel queasy, and already there was a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes.
He leapt up and perched on the railing around the pool. A site of devastation met his eyes: the concrete island had collapsed inwards, and chunks of rubble lay in the pool and on the floor of the bunker. Private spotted Kowalski stumbling out of his lab, a blank look of what-just-happened on his face. He was limping. As Private glanced around again, he spotted Rico, unconscious but breathing. And then he saw Skipper. Private let out a cry of despair and hurled himself down into the smoking, dusty ruins. He fell down next to Skipper and began to weep.
"Skippah," he choked. "Please, Skippah, don't be dead... please don't be dead..." He reached out and held a flipper against Skipper's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. After a few agonising seconds, he found it. But it was weak. Skipper's ribs and spine seemed to be shattered and from the slow breaths he was taking, he only had a few minutes left to live.
Skipper stirred gently. His eyes fluttered half-open and he looked at Private. There was nothing but guilt left in his eyes and on his face... there was no room for lust now. Private sobbed and pressed his beak against Skipper's shoulder. "I'm s-s-sorry, S-Skippah..."
A flipper gently grasped Private's. He raised his head and glanced at it, vision swimming with tears. He had to make things right. But first he needed to get something out of his system.
Private looked into Skipper's eyes. The hate in his heart had vanished, but the love and pain remained. "I love you," he whispered. He registered surprise in Skipper's eyes. "I've loved you since we met... I still do, which is... I mean... I don't know why. I don't know how I still can, but I do. I need you to know that."
Private leaned forwards and kissed Skipper on the forehead. As he drew back and looked at him again, something else stirred in Skipper's eyes, amongst the pain and guilt... not lust. Something different, something strong. Skipper opened his beak to say something, but no sound came out. He closed it again, and, tears trickling down his face, Private nuzzled the end of his own beak to Skipper's. Skipper was still.
Private took his pulse again and it was gone.
Private looked at his Commanding Officer's closed eyelids and then closed his own. His breath shuddered with sadness. He had one wish left, and he was going to use it to set things right.
This whole damned mess was his fault – not just the Paw's but his too. His greed, his lust... it could have happened anyway, all of this, but it was definitely Private's fault it had happened at this time.
His mind cleared of a lot of the sadness and regret when he made up his mind. He got unsteadily to his feet and staggered over to the ladder bars in the corner. Or at least to where they used to be; most had been blasted off the wall along with chunks of concrete.
Private hopped up the rubble and debris and exited the habitat. He began slowly walking towards (eight not seven but him not me) the chimp habitat.
The paw made his captain die to grant him his wish.
Every wish had gone wrong. 4) Stop Skipper: it killed Skipper. 3) Make Skipper tell him how he felt about him: he found out things he never in a million years would have expected, and never in a billion wanted to know. 2) Make Skipper bed him: he'd – oh gosh, oh, that second wish was a type of rape too, wasn't it? The wish had forced Skipper to mate with Private, however it happened. Did that make Private a rapist? That hadn't dawned on Private before now. It made him feel sick.
1) Make Skipper like-like him: nothing had happened. After all that hope; after telling himself that he could have loved him already, that it could just take a while... like... what had he thought earlier, before his second wish? Maybe it would happen when one of them was on their deathbed, and in their last moments together Skipper would realise that he loved him, far too late...
Had the wish really been granted in that way? Was that the final mystery look in Skipper's eyes before he had passed away? Or was this stupid little cute-and-naive penguin, once again, seeing a pure light where there was only darkness and desire?
He scaled the wall and dropped down, wiping the lingering tears from his eyes. Then blinked, because the habitat was full of other animals.
Julian was pointing at something on the ground, which Mason wasn't letting him close to. "I want it! As the king, it is my kingly right to take all wishes for the king's wants – MY wants! Hand it over!"
With a jolt Private realised he was talking about the paw – Private had left the paw lying on the ground and the other animals had found it. There was only one wish left, only one chance to save Skipper and set things finally damn right once and for all, and he needed that paw.
"Don't you touch it!" Private roared as Julian made to pick it up.
All heads were turned towards Private as he stalked closer to the startled lemur. "Silly penguin, don't you see-"
"Don't you bloody dare!" He snarled, and around him the animals gasped.
Julian backed away to Maurice's side and muttered something hurriedly into his ear.
Then Mason was blocking Private's path, and before Private knew what he was doing, he said, "Get in my way and I'll make another two of these out of your hands. I'm warning you."
Mason backed down too. Private started forward again and reached the paw, and lifted it in his flippers. But before he could speak his wish it was knocked out of his grip by Bada and Bing.
"Hey, how come you gets to make the wish?"
"Yeah, we've got wishes too, over here – I want plantains!"
Private held out his flippers for the paw. "You can make your wishes after," he lied hurriedly. "Once somebody has used up all their wishes, it starts again at five for the next-"
Marlene interrupted, "But first, listen, if I could just-"
Private lost his temper for the final time. "But first, LISTEN, let me save an animal's life!"
"W-what?" Marlene said.
"Skipper's DEAD!" He shouted, then dropped his voice as they gaped at him in stunned silence. "Give me the paw or he stays dead – I have to set things right, and then you can each have five. But before you make your wish, let me reverse my wishes and bring him back."
The gorillas dropped the paw at Private's feet. He picked it up again but then Julian was in his face.
"Um, I am thinking... that if you are reversing you wishes and making the Skipper-penguin not-dead... um, then that would mean that you would have five again, if you reversed them."
"No," Private said, trying to keep calm, "that would be my fifth wish and I wouldn't get any more. And even if I did, the wishes are cursed – they killed Skipper, and – look, if I did get them back I'd give them away."
The lemur reached for the paw again but the desperate penguin's flipper cracked against his jaw. He fell to the ground with a cry, clutching his mouth.
Private lifted the paw and said hurriedly: "I wish I'd never found this paw, and I'll never find it again!"
And at the last moment before the world dissolved around him, feeling the paw's inexplicable new warmth and heartbeat beneath his flippers as the forefinger bent down, he realised his mistake.
The catapult was set off, launching the boulders high in the air towards the dump on the other side of town, and the chimp habitat was clear of large debris. Skipper ordered his men to move out.
As they hopped up onto the wall, however, something caught Skipper's eye – something small, and greyish-brown, exposed by a hole in the concrete. "Move out, men. I'll catch you up." They dived from the wall and slid towards the penguin habitat.
Skipper walked over to the mystery object, feeling inexplicably drawn towards it. He bent down, then leapt back when he realised what it was.
It was a severed monkey's fist. It looked ancient and withered, and the colour had faded from its matted fur. The back of the hand had four long, lumpy scars. As soon as Skipper's flipper touched it, the fist flexed and the fingers stretched out until it stood on its stump, fingertips stretching towards the sky, revealing a palm which was criss-crossed with cracks and lines. It stood just taller than Skipper. He grabbed a better hold of it. He could feel the ancient magic it held swirling under the skin and fur of the hand. He grinned. He knew exactly what this was.
He had three or five wishes... and oh, the possibilities! Peace and quiet... immortality... an infinite defence budget...
Eyes closed, he daydreamed for a while, the magic paw clutched in his flippers, and thought of what he really wanted in his life. Tanks and missiles available in the budget would be glorious... but... maybe there was something he could also wish for which was a little more personal, something he wanted. What had he wanted for a while? A coffee machine that made the perfect joe each time? Ooh, maybe a good disguise...
He turned his thoughts to his unit. What could they all use? Better pillows, he thought, and almost laughed. Something good for Kowalski's lab? And Rico would just love his own tank, or a jet ski... And what would Private want?
Suddenly the grin turned into a smirk. Speaking of Private... there was something Skipper had wanted for a long time...
Another wish: another mistake.
5) Never found the paw: his captain found it instead...