“Almost there, Timmy. Just a bit more and we’ll have it,” said the penguin.
“Ok, Frederico,” said Timmy, his defined arms guiding the boat into position. “No problemo!”
Two more Emperor penguins wearing highly reflective sunglasses helped a bikini-clad, high-heeled-sporting tarantula out of the boat. “Hello, Elsie! We’re so glad to see you back around here,” he said, a Latin accent evident.
He lifted a walkie-talkie to his beak. “Ella esta aqui, Pedro.”
“Well moochass grassyass,” said the tarantula, batting her eight eyes and smiling broadly. “I don’t know when I’ve seen you looking so fit, Hector,” she said with a purr and putting a Southern, Scarlett O’Hara type lilt into her speech. The penguin smiled, sheepishly. “It must be that new fish diet you’re on. I was awake until well after midnight trying to decide." She laughed, flirtatiously loudly.
“Yeah? You think?” said Hector, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.
“I don’t think,” said Elsie, poking him in the chest. “I know!” They both laughed, as she twirled her yellow polka dot parasol.
“And Sylvio,” she said, turning her attention to the other penguin. “You’re looking good enough to eat.”
“Muchas gracias, mi Senora. Tu es muy, muy, muy, muy bonita,” he said, extending a flipper.
She laughed loudly again. “Oh, Syl, if I wasn’t in these yellow polka dot high-heeled platform boots, I’d chase you all over the roof of this seminary. You’d be in serious trouble!” She punctuated each of the last sentence with jabs to his chest on every syllable.
“Welcome back, Ms. Elsie!” he said.
“Thank you!”
“Yeah, welcome back, Elsie,” the others said around her as she stepped out onto the metallic roof, her heels clacking with each step. She moved up the slight angle of the roof to the flat section at the top.
Here there were two lines of 20 male penguins each. They all wore the same highly reflective sunglasses and also tap shoes, holding top hats in their right flippers and canes in the other. Elsie pranced down the middle surveying and inspecting her dancers. She turned when she got to a terraced area at the far end. She closed and planted her parasol on the stage and whipped around, singing:
I’m back, yes I’m back!
The sun is here to shine.
I'm back, yes, I'm back!
Nothing can stop me ever again.
Just wait and you'll see
Like a freight train!
The sun is here to shine.
I'm back, yes, I'm back!
Nothing can stop me ever again.
Just wait and you'll see
Like a freight train!
(She peered over at one of the dancers who winced at her less than poetic line. She shrugged: “It was all I could think of!” The penguin laughed and nodded.)
I’m back, yes, I’m back!
The sun is here to shine!!
ST MUCKYMUCK
Season 2
WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN
WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:
IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.
THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.
All the webs are swept away,
All eight eyes can see!
All my legs are A-OK,
I’m full of great glee!!
I’m back, yes, I’m back!
The whole world is mine.I’m back, yes, I’m back!
Let’s go out and dine!
Where’s that mortal coil?
No need to shuffle off!Not a thing could foil
Or even cause a cough!
I’m back, yes, I’m back!
The sun’s here to shine!
She tossed her parasol to the side and moved downstage. She then began a soft shoe dance number. She whirled around the stage, dancing momentarily with several different partners. She then did impressive cartwheels, a number of which made her look almost like a yellow polka dot wheel spinning around the stage. The two lines of male dancers then joined her and a magnificent tap dance ensued. They danced all over the rooftop, the choreography becoming more and more spectacular. The penguins formed a circle around her, then two, going in opposite directions.
An exceptionally handsome partner moved into place and the two did a splendid ballroom dance number just like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. At the end, he was holding Elsie in an elegant and seductive pose, a group of eight penguins had lifted the two soloists onto their shoulders and another sixteen had put the eight on their shoulders. The effect was a huge plinth of penguins topped by a tarantula statue. Everyone clapped and cheered at the end.
In the distance, a single penguin wearing a headset carried a small potted palm plant from one side of the chapel transept to the other, a clipboard tucked under his arm.
“We think so, Elsie,” said Syl. “The sets have all arrived. We’ve got them stored in the attic below. He nodded toward the roof of the seminary they were standing on. “We’ve been rehearsing madly up here all the group numbers and the ones you’re in but where you don’t sing.”
“Oh, how exciting!” said Elsie, clapping. “Is there a rehearsal schedule for me?” Syl produced a sheet of paper.
“Si, si, si,” he said, handing it to her.
The headset penguin appeared in the distance again, clipboard under his arm and walking in the opposite direction along the chapel transept, this time holding a slightly larger palm plant.
Elsie scanned the sheet. “Oh dear! They’re running the Mocheomoc Kilcathclyde Landing re-enactment scene in seven minutes!” She gaped at a glittering watch on one of her legs. “I’m not ready!”
She disappeared. People began to fill the flat, stage-like section of the tin roof in anticipation of the rehearsal. A penguin came on wearing a sweatshirt and a cap with a large black and white emblem: an ‘M’ on top of a cross.
“We’re running the Re-enactment! Places please!”
As people moved to their respective spots, the headsetted and clipboarded penguin appeared on the transept roof again, this time going in the original direction with a slightly larger plant than previously.
A wooden raft was moved into position stage right. A single soiled and torn sail was lowered with a big red cross on it. A group of plainly clad penguins moved upstage left facing the raft. Ten penguins dressed like monks moved onto it.
“Bring on Percival!” said the stage managing penguin.
“Right, Connie,” said another. An extremely old penguin was brought onstage in a wheelchair. As several helped him onto the stage, the penguin with the headset crossed the transept roof yet again -- this time with a slightly larger plant than before. The elderly penguin had his makeup touched up by a very effeminate penguin dressed entirely in a pink sequined suit, gigantic pink, horn-rimmed glasses, and wearing matching leather, knee-high, platform boots. “You look fabulous now, Percival. The shine on your beak is gone,” he said. “My stars…you look like the Great Saint himself.”
“Thank you, Adrian,” said the old penguin. “The Great Saint would be pleased to hear you say that.”
“Well, you would know, Percival, seeing as how you knew him and all,” said Adrian. The pink makeup artist then rounded on the cast assembled onstage. “There’s an original Mocheomoc habit on Elsie. I wouldn’t let anything happen to it. Yvonna in costumes will have you all for dinner!”
“Thank you for reminding us, Adrian, for the one THOUSANDTH time,” one penguin stage left with a thick Brooklyn accent quipped.
“Yeah,” said another in a Puerto Rican accent. “We know better than to make Yvonna mad! Remember what she did to Evelina at the re-enactment of St. Lucy’s eye-plucking!”
“Oh yeah!” said the first penguin. “That was dreadful, huh?”
“It was!” said Adrian. “My eyes watered for months afterward every single time I saw her.”
The handset and clipboard penguin appeared for a fourth time, carrying a good-sized palm plant. He crossed the transept roof and nearly fell off into the water on the other side.
“Say, Adrian,” said Percival. “What is being done about the water situation?”
“Well, Percival, I was told by Magdalena in props who heard from her second cousin, Vanessa, who works in sound design and whose brother-in-law, Eduardo, works in stagecraft, said that they are working on the situation on the other side of the seminary roof.”
***
A group of penguins wearing lab coats and all with pencils, rulers, compasses, and other drafting instruments scattered around them were huddled over a single clipboard.
“Do you think that will work?” asked one with thick glasses.
“I don’t know. Theoretically, it should,” responded another, with a thick lisp. “But the question remains who is going to actually perform the task?”
The whole group looked at Pele, his umbrella-ornamented drink still in his hand from his earlier interaction with the cats. “Pele? What do you think? There’s only one who COULD do it.”
Pele thought. “I agree. I will ask him, amigos.”
Several minutes later a green, inflatable mattress pulled up to Bandit and Ginger who were snoozing lazily in the bright sunlight on top of the cathedral roof.
“Hola, amigos!”
“Hola, Pele,” said Bandit. “Can we help you with something?”
“Amigo, I have to ask you a big favor. The boys in stagecraft want someone to swim down to the street below next to the Clyde,” he said, pointing with his flipper into the water. “They say that the problem with all the water will be resolved if you can work with something there.”
“You want ME to do it?” said Bandit, taken aback.
“Si, mi amigo. We all know about your diving and swimming gold medals from the 2008 Animalympic Games in Fargo.”
“Oh my goodness. That was the last thing I was expecting to hear today,” said Bandit.
“Si, si, si,” said Pele. “All the penguins know, mi amigo. You are a famous celebrity.”
"As opposed to a celebrity who isn't famous," said Ginger sarcastically to himself.
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I did any serious swimming, Pele,” said Bandit. “I just…”
Ginger pulled him back from the edge of the balcony. “Honey, if you can save everyone in Kilcathclyde, then you should do it. I know you can.”
“But…it sounds…dangerous...What if something happens and I never see you again?”
“We carry each other in our hearts, my Love,” said Ginger. He put his paw on Bandit’s chest. “We live forever there. No one can part us. Nothing can part us.” They rubbed noses. “Not danger. Or water. Or…death,” he whispered, softly.
Bandit turned back to Pele. “OK, Pele. I’ll go back with you.”
***
“Elsie!” called the stage manager.
“Coming!” said the tarantula, stepping onto the raft next to Percival. She was wearing a very tattered-looking, black and white monk's habit. “Yvonna’s just gotten this back from alterations. She said Ella worked all night on it. She said not to get it wet!” There was an atomic age of silence as everyone looked apprehensively around at the water lapping playfully at the edge of the roof of St. Pulcherius’ Seminary.
“We’ll make sure!” said the stage manager. “We’ll have to run this without lights for now until Pele solves the moisture issue.”
The penguin with the headset crossed a sixth time on the top of the transept roof – now carrying a small potted palm tree. It was clearly almost too much for him. He teetered and tottered all the way across.
The orchestra began and the rehearsal started. The raft wobbled, simulating a storm, while blue metal strips resembling waves moved back and forth in front of it. Elsie sang several bars perfectly with Percival reciting his because he was so old he couldn’t sing them. Elsie turned to sing to the crowd of monks behind her on the raft.
The poor penguin on the transept roof was now lumbering under the weight of a full-size palm tree. He almost made it to the opposite side when he slipped and fell down the steep incline of the roof into the water with a splash. The tree seemed to fall in slow motion. When it stopped, the top of it hung over the stage where Elsie, Percival, and the other penguins were and the force loosened the tree's two coconuts.
One rolled down onto the crowd stage left and over them like a gauntlet, tossing several of them into the water and leaving a number of them scattered about their side of the stage, some of them holding their heads. The second coconut bounced into the air and down onto the upstage end of the raft. Percival went rolling onto the stage while Elsie was catapulted into the air, backward. Her eight eyes saw Adrian the makeup guy and then Timmy the turtle as he sat in the rowboat just off the end of the roof, flexing his biceps for several giggling penguin girls.
“Rrrrrrrrrroooooooocccccccccckkkkkkkkyyyyyyyy!!!!” she cried. Timmy looked up and saw her and then turned to the pink clad makeup artist.
“Aaaaaddddriaaaaannnnnnnnn!” both moved to the edge of the water. “HELP!”
But there was nothing to be done. Elsie landed with a splash as her four tap dance shoes went flying in different directions.
***
On the other side of the seminary roof, Bandit stood, tucking his ears into a black and white swimming cap with an “M” on top of a cross emblazoned on it. He was surrounded by the penguins with the lab coats from stagecraft and Pele.
“I want you to know that I haven’t done this in years, Pele,” said Bandit, the rubber cap snapping against his head. “I don’t know about this. But I’ll do my best. Let’s pray first.”
All assembled in a circle around Bandit and made the Sign of the Cross. There was a moment of silence. “Heavenly Father, I ask that you grant courage to face the unknown and the wisdom to discern your will in this task.” He paused and seemed to contemplate what that might mean. He then stiffened with resolve. “And to perform it to the best of my ability.” They all said the Lord’s Prayer and an “Ave Maria.” Bandit pulled a pair of black and white goggles over his eyes and did an elegant swan dive into the water without making the smallest splash.
He plunged deeper and deeper – the city of Kilcathclyde beneath him, both town and puss in the depths of the tsunami induced flood waters of the River Clyde. He swam south, toward the cathedral. Then, he spotted it. He swam deeper, to the pavement of Scarletfriars Street in front of the cathedral. Moving toward the river, he saw a large rubber mat covering the storm drain. It read:
WELCOME
TO
SAM N ELLA’S
He sank his back claws into the rubber and swam upward with all his might. At first it didn’t seem like it was going to budge. But, very gradually, the mat pulled free. There was an enormous plunging sound and the water began to drain away rapidly.
A whirlpool was created, trapping a drenched Elsie in its mighty spirals. She was headed toward the eight-arched, stone bridge that the Great Saint himself had supervised the building of many centuries earlier. She was about to be dragged under by the swirling current when Bandit spotted her as he was climbing out of the water. He leapt back in and swam to her, moving along the bridge to keep from being pulled under. At last, he reached her and with all his might, he threw Elsie into the air and over the top of the bridge.
She gasped for air, soaked to the skin and coughing and spluttering. She ran back to the edge, where the cat clung by his claws. “Take my hand, Bandit. Come on, Honey!”
“I can’t!” he screamed over the roaring rapids. “The current is too strong!”
“Come on, Honey! I can get you!” she hollered back. She extended a leg and Bandit grabbed it but to no avail. Within the blink of an eye, he was gone. (c) 2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.
