A Story About Penguins

Brendan Dillon

One day I was walking along the streets of Düsseldorf when I was approached by a man with no nose and a false finger on his right hand. He greeted me in Esperanto and I responded in kind. He then explained that his name was Franz and he was a member of the Blue Panther Society, a secret organization of assassins who moonlight as hot dog vendors. He had been observing me for some time, and had deemed me worthy of membership. Within days I was spending every waking moment in training, and was soon poised to become the Society's most talented assassin. However, I decided that life as a hot dog vendor was not for me, so the day before my graduation from training, I sniped Franz from a restaurant roof with a rifle he had just given me as a graduation gift. I then fled to Tanzania until I formed my new identity: an assassin who moonlights as an ice cream vendor.

On my first mission, I was hired to assassinate the Antarctican ambassador to the United Nations. Modern science had created a race of intelligent penguins who could communicate with humans, leading to Antarctica's recognition as a sovereign nation. The ambassador was a penguin named Waddles (a common name in his society), targeted due to his recent push to remove international scientists from his homeland. Dr. Allen Smikov, one of the lead scientists in the intelligent penguin project, felt that Waddles' views showed extreme ingratitude, and hired me to take him out.

My work as an ice cream vendor had ill-prepared me for the frozen environment Waddles insisted be maintained inside his New York apartment, however. As I crawled through a ventilation duct leading into his room, I was hit suddenly by a gust of air chilled to well below zero degrees Centigrade, to simulate the environment of his home. I was quickly incapacitated as my hands stuck to the metal ductwork. I was forced to kick off one boot and light a flare with my toes for heat. The flare was instantly noticed by Waddles, of course, and he was prepared for me as I emerged from his wall vent for the kill.

I noticed just in time the jiu-jitsu trophy that adorned Waddles' mantle, and took a stance protective of just such an attack. We fought for some time with tenacity the likes of which had not been seen since the War of 1812. Finally, however, I managed to catch the tip of his wing with my free foot and pinned him to the floor.

Waddles squawked with fear, knowing that his life was at an end. His shock was so severe that his enhanced genetics reverted back to his original state. I quickly realized that this would leave Waddles incapable of performing his duties as ambassador, making his assassination unnecessary. I gave him a lift to the Bronx Zoo, and then dropped all of my weapons into a nearby mailbox, vowing never to kill again.

In the years since, I have built a very successful ice cream manufacturing and distribution company, currently worth $2.4 billion. I also manage a trust fund for the support of genetically reverted penguins.