30.7.08 | The Penguin And The Sofa
Gentle reader, you arrive as me and Da Pumpkin are heading towards the end of a relatively normal conversation late one evening.
...I'm tired now, Plebby, i think i'm going off to bed. Nitey nite! Mwah's!
Ok Pumpy, i send you big loves. Mwah's!
I send you big loves back.
I send you a penguin also! For company!
(sudden consternation in voice, while tired person tries to come to terms with this alteration of reality)
I don't know what do do with that!
(anxiety in voice)
Oh wait, i know- I'll leave it on the sofa to watch telly....
With a glass of milk...
What about a biscuit, too?
Yes, a penguin biscuit from the fridge.
I hope he can get into the fridge when you're asleep, btw. I bet fridge doors are quite difficult for penguins to open- but maybe it's one of those doors that you can push and it loosens and swings open on a catch and-
Shut it Plebby! You're the one who foisted a penguin totally unreasonably and also quite unrealistically into my living room to watch tv. and now you're trying to work out ways for it to open my fridge door, while i, on the other hand, am quite happy to let it sit on my sofa all cosy for night watching The Blue Planet, by David Attenborough, with a glass of milk to drink and a nice biscuit.
In the end, we both agree to overlook just how the penguin will drink it's milk and eat it's biccy, because, in our minds now... he's there... and cute beyond words and we believe in him with all our hearts.
(He's called Steve, btw... Pumpy didn't want to give him a name and insists that a naming quite spoils the atmosphere, but in my head, he's Steve The Penguin.)
Meanwhile, late at night, a Penguin is sitting on "da Pumpkins" sofa, bathed in the cool cathode blue television light, and realizes that his glass of milk is empty and that his biscuit is finished. So he bounces off the cushions and waddles to the kitchen and the fridge. We watch him disappearing solemnly into the kitchen and hear vague unspecified noises and a bit of creaking. Moments later, he is sitting back on the sofa, listening to the smooth dignified tones of David Attenborough and thoughtfully eating another biscuit or three. Resting carefully on the arm of the sofa is a big glass of milk.
We don't know how it all works. But we know he will still drink the milk and eat the biscuits and appreciate Mr Attenborough's nature programme. It's one of the most beautiful things, ever. It makes us smile and giggle every time we think about it.