For as long as humanity has existed, penguins have been the laughing stock of the polar regions. People have ridiculed and persecuted the cursed species because they are different from most birds. “They have such an awkward stature and such tiny wing spans!” people say. Penguins have been the punch lines to many different jokes and the subject of many cartoons which tend to hold penguins in a negative light.
          The main attribute of the penguin which gets ridiculed the most is, of course, the fact that they have wings, yet cannot fly. Many people blame it on Mother Nature, while others blame it on the harsh Arctic climate. All of these, I fear, are untrue, however. There is a story that goes far back into time, so far back, in fact, that if you were to critique this story for authenticity, you would find nothing that would support your hasty dismissal of the story itself.

          Our story begins, funnily enough, in Paris. At this point in time, France was very endowed financially. French bread and cigarettes very plentiful as were nasty French attitudes. French children ran freely in the streets drinking wine and making fun of the stupid Americans.
          There was only one problem in Paris at that time. Penguins. If you would look above you at any given time while outside, you would see a multitude of penguins flying about, searching for food. Their food of choice, was, of course, fresh, hot loaves of French bread.
          These penguins were not like the penguins we know today. Instead of having a fleshy black exterior, they actually had feathers. They still had their tiny wings, which had to be beaten rapidly in order for them to stay in flight.
          The French government had long since declared that the killing of a penguin was strictly forbidden. This was due to the fact that the King of France, at the time, was receiving one tenth of the French bread taken in by the penguins. Therefore, no one could do anything about the silly penguin menace. Mothers baked double the amount of French bread needed in order to compensate for a possible penguin attack. Sons and daughters had to hide their French bread inside of drab French clothing in order to save it from any given number of penguins floating overhead.
          If someone was foolish enough to openly walk with a loaf of French bread outside, that person would hear a loud screech from above, which was the penguin signaling to his penguin brethren that dinner was down below. A chosen penguin would swoop down and snatch the bread from the grasp of he who carried it. Sometimes, the snatching of the bread was so forceful, that people would be knocked down, causing them to possibly impale themselves with their long, pretentious cigarette holders.
          Along time, the penguin attacks became increasingly severe and occurrent. The people of France were losing their patience and their resolve. They knew it was time to take matters into their own hands. Every Parisian was armed, even the homeless people living under the Eiffel Tower. They chose their day and took action.
          Loudspeakers all over the city blared the French national anthem. The citizens took to the streets and took aim at the menace that had plagued them for so long. One by one, penguins began to fall. The streets became clogged with dead penguins and half-eaten loves of French bread. All at once, it seemed, the surviving penguins descended from the sky and landed on the ground with their wings on top of their heads. The firing stopped.
          The citizens demanded that the penguins leave their country and relocate on both of the polar regions. They also demanded that once they get there, that they will never leave the ground in order to steal people’s French bread. The penguins agreed.
          Some people think that some penguins deviated from the flock and flew to Canada in search of oven-fresh bread. All they found there, however, were Fresca soft drinks and Bryan Adams CDs.
          Far North and far South the penguins traveled. They kept their word and never flew again. Now, they live a quiet existence in the Arctic tundra, eating cold, raw fish instead of hot and fresh French bread. Their feathers fell off and they learned to walk upright. Oh, if only the penguins had controlled their unquenchable thirst for hot pastry! Things would have turned out much different.

© 2000 by Andrew Morgan