Antarctic Volcano Base Assault Part 4

I don't understand this whole 'bein a villain' thing. There you are one day, livin your life like normal. You get up, maybe go to work or somethin like that. Maybe you brew some coffee or you go out and hunt a cheetah with a stick and some fire, I don't know. But then, one day, everything changes. You do somethin evil, and then another thing evil and pretty soon, you're trappin kids in cages and surroundin some guy from Iowa with crazy penguins in your weird underground mall that seems to have no bearing on anything and, not only are you not amazed by any of this, but you gloat about it. You just stand there tryin to explain how not only does this not sound not as bonkers as a meth addict after drinkin a case of red bull playin whack-a-mole, but that it all makes total sense and it's the way things should be. I mean, if you're the last of the ice giants and you been on Earth for a billion years, you're bound to get lonely. I'm not heartless. I get that. I spent some time alone myself. When you spend time alone, you do get a little weird. In my case, I sing songs about a lot of things. One time, I sang a song for a half hour about makin coffee. I didn't even realize until I was well into the song that I was really just singin Wagner's Ring der Nibelungen. By the time it really struck me, I was really commited to the role and I just pushed on through until I got to the aria. Before I was finished, the phone rang I had to run out and do somethin or another. It was like any other song that gets stuck in your head if you don't finish singin it. For the next four year, I had Wagner in a loop in my head. It was a good two hour loop, though, and I didn't mind so much. The people around me kept askin me to stop humming Ride of the Valkyries however. After that, I got stuck on Holst's The Planets and it's still spinnin around up there. Right now, I'm hummin Mars. So, like I say, I understand that whacky things can happen to someone when they spend time alone. But there are limits. Never once during my time humming Wagner did I say to myself, "Pat, ol' boy, you need to move to Antarctica and build a mall under a volcano and then staff it with a bunch of nutty penguins and whatnot." I guess what I'm sayin here is that there are limits. Singin to yourself is one thing, but this is a whole other.

That's was I was thinkin to myself when I was standin there in from of Amelia Earhart and waitin for her explanation. At least, that's what I thought I was thinkin until she said, "Excuse me?" and I realized I'd just said all that out loud. But I stood by it. I wasn't about to let her back me down. I mean, she can't even tell a decent story and she's been around for a trillion years or so. You'd think in that time she'd learn how to tell a real story, but no, she couldn't story her way out of a paper bag.

"Excuse me?!" she said again. Then I thought, or thought I thought that I'd better stop sayin all this out loud.

"I agree," said Alistair. Then I stopped thinkin.

"You know, Pat O'Neil," began Amelia, "you don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be the last of your kind. You don't know what it's like to have to survive off the tears of orphans. And you don't know what it's like to be the proprietor of a mall that no one ever comes to and that you have to staff with crazy penguins because those are the only kinds of penguins that talk. Sure, other penguins know how to talk, but they also know when to shut up, which, for a penguin, is always. They're great admirers of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. All sane penguins really see themselves as the strong, silent type. Think High Plains Drifter meets Happy Feet. Here I am, runnin this mall and drinkin orphan tears, older than you'll know. Do you know how that feels, Pat O'Neil? Do you?!"

I had to admit that I didn't know. So that's what I did. "I don't know," I admitted.

"You're right," she gloated, "you don't know. So shut your donut trap and listen, maybe you'll learn something before I kill you."

Cowed, I told her, "Yes ma'am."

"That's better," she crossed her arms and nodded her head like a six year old that thinks she's just won an argument. "Now, I'm gonna tell you, Pat O'Neil, it feels awesome! I'm not even kidding you. There's no rush like grabbing an orphan, leading it around the mall looking for it's mommy and then telling it that it's mommy was eaten by zombie bears and died screaming she hated the child. Oh, the joy you get from those tears, it's like the ambrosia of the gods."

Alistair butted in, "You mean ambrosia."

"That's what I said," she retorted.

"Actually," he explained, "you said 'ambrosia of the gods'. By definition, ambrosia is the nectar of the gods, so all ambrosia is ambrosia of the gods."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Are you serious? I'm about to kill you and you're giving me semantics lessons?"

He nodded, "You've got a point."

"I sure do," she said, self satisfied, "and I will drive it through your eye if you don't shut up and let me talk!" The penguins moved in menacingly. They even sneered. I kid you not. Up until that day, I would have told you that it was impossible to sneer without lips, but now, I would tell you that the Pat who spoke to you before is a liar, and then past Pat would get hurt, because Pat O'Neil hates to be called a liar. Then, past Pat would probably resort to fisticuffs with present Pat and future Pat would have to live the rest of his life with the regret of giving himself a wedgie. So, don't go back in time and let me tell you that something without lips can't sneer, because none of us want that.

"I am the queen of my world, Pat O'Neil," she began again. "I control it all. This mall? I had this mall built from the screams of a thousand tortured souls. That and drywall. These penguins? I have been breeding the entire species of penguins from when they were still dinosaurs. I have set all of this up to lure my enemies in, confuse them and then strike them dead. I am like a spider wearing leiderhosen. Just when you're getting ready to ask, 'hey, why is that spider wearing leiderhosen?' it's too late, because you've been spiderized! Take that!"

"What?" Douggy and I said in unison.

"I have set this whole thing up, Pat O'Neil!" she announced triumphantly. "I have lured you into my mall, knowing that you are willing to risk life and limb by driving past a black hole to go to WalMart. So I've built this bastion of commerce to give you a false sense of security. Then, I got my army of mad penguins to appear as shop keepers, because I know that you feel comfortable with animal labor, seeing as you use the squimonk to make donuts. Finally, I posed as the FedEx delivery man to give you the directions to my throne room, which is really just my trap room! And now, you are in the trap! Because you are in the trap room! HA HA HA!" Again, she just said this "HA HA HA," which is disturbing to hear. "Now, Pat O'Neil, do you have any last words before my penguins rip you to pieces?"

"I do believe I do," I said slowly, the idea coming quickly to my mind, "I just have one question, really. It's a small thing, but I think it's important to clear the air about this before we die."

"Ask away," she granted, seeming very pleased with herself.

I couldn't keep the sly grin from creepin into my lips as I said, "Why'd you steal these penguins eggs?"

The cry of the penguins was almost deafening. A thousand penguins, in unison, yelling "MY EGG!" was almost more than my ears could bear. Fortunately, they were still stuck up with a little of the bacon grease. If not for that grease, I may be deaf now. So, thank you, bacon. You are forgiven and you may re-enter my life in all your salty, smoky glory.

As the army of penguins descended on the ice giantess, she threw off her human form. She stood a hundred feet tall if she was an inch, covered in fine white hair. Her tusks had to be longer than a man and sharper than a razor cared for by an OCD barber. It looked hopeless for the penguins. She swatted them away as if they were so many black and white marshmallows. They always got back up, though. They are persistent little guys. Then, I saw what may be the oddest thing I've witnessed in my life up to this point.

All together, the penguins shouted, "Penguin Power! Unite!" And then they all stared to stick together, standing on top of one another and linkin their little flippers together. The mass grew and grew until it was as tall as the ice giantess. When the wriggling stopped, I saw the penguins had joined together to form a giant penguin made out of smaller penguins. This ran, well waddled, full speed at the furry giantess. She would swing at it, but the penguins would open a hole in the penguin mass and her fists would move harmlessly through. Then the penguin made of penguins would swing back at her, swatting her to the ground or pecking her in the genitals. I don't think that works on giantesses, but she did get real mad about it. As they fought, Alistair and Douggy picked the lock on Jared's cage, pulling him to freedom despite his shouts of "Careful! My arms and legs are asleep."

We turned to run away, leaving the two pugilists locked together. But then we started to feel bad for the penguins, who were really just trying to protect their eggs and health insurance and never really did anything against us. We didn't want to abandon them, but we couldn't think of a way to help them. We discussed it in low tones at the door to the back hallway.

We were at a loss until we heard a voice behind us say, "I have an idea." We turned around and saw the penguin from the Build-a-Bear. I knew it was him because his Build-a-Bear tag read Gunther.