A Penguin's Toy

1

"Half of the time I don't know what they're talking about; their jokes seem to relate to a past that everyone but me has shared. I'm a foreigner in the world and I don't understand the language." ― Jean Webster

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Day 1

Who knows that the sound of webbed feet grating against gravels can be so euphonious?

The answer is: no one, for the penguin dances across the road, with none other than his own presence. The little bits of rocks sting like needles, oh, how he wishes he could fly. They are irking, but at least it isn't painful.

So the penguin, even with a failed attempt of beguiling himself into thinking the rocks are pleasurable, continues to dance and twirl till he finally arrives at the sidewalk.

He giggles at himself, creating an image in his head apropos to how funny he must look when he dances. The penguin takes the joke contently.

Maybe that's why the other penguins ostracize him.

The penguin, Tux, is an outcast in its fullest. They snicker, pull pranks, and laugh at him, instead of with him. Perhaps their minds are genetically different than his, that he never seems to blend in with the crowd. They all wear the same skin and color alright, but he knows in his guts that he doesn't belong.

Tux does not have a friend, thus he's here, under the city lights, searching for one.

The buildings in the surrounding tower over him; unlike anything he's ever seen. Tux is an alien here.

He always hears of the myth, of those who travel to the human world, and of those who never return. Tux makes a huge effort into convincing himself that those who leave eventually find what they're looking for.

Somehow, he reckons he's wrong.

Then the augmenting sound of footsteps sends Tux waddling towards the nearest hiding place in a frenzy-a pile of huge black bags stacking on top of each other.

The countershading on his body helps with the camouflage. He curls himself up into a ball, listens tentatively, and awaits their departure.

There are two sets of footsteps, and aye, they're closing up on the animal.

"Mommy, her hair is all messy and tangled, I can't give her a new hairdo!"

The girl stops dead on her track and stands by the garbage bags, weeping in annoyance.

"Here, sweetie, just throw it away. I'll buy you a much nicer one tomorrow."

And with that, the little girl and her mother walk away, relinquishing the doll behind.

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