An Emperor penguin from Antarctica arrived Peka Peka Beach, Kapiti, New Zealand. Scientists are baffled as to how he got there. I am not. Behold the story of Nigel: Emperor of Emperors.
Photo by Ross Giblin / Dominion Post
Nigel, the Emperor of the Emperor penguins was a fair and just ruler. He abolished slavery, and banished the polar bears back to the Arctic. They tried to move to Antarctica due to the melting of their home, and while he had sympathy for them, he had degrees in both Ecosystem Management and Immigration Policy; and did not envisage their integration as being a harmonious one.
Nigel, whilst being fair and just, enjoyed the creature comforts that came with being the Emperor of Emperors in Antarctica. He had delicious food on rotation that was brought to him on silver platters by fit and naked penguins. The most attractive penguin ladies; highly symmetrical, demonstrating highly resonant procreation cries, were constantly begging to mate with him. He would never cheat on his wife, Donna, but the interest in him was very flattering and the confidence boost ensured he never acted out of insecurity.
He had a limitless supply of food collected for him. Great pride was taken in the foods preparation. The best and most attentive of his hunting team pecked the eyeballs out of all caught fish, as Nigel had an endearing ‘thing’ about eyeballs. He would not eat them. He was paranoid the fish in his tummy would witness the other fish digesting in his tummy and be traumatised. This belief illustrated both his lack of knowledge about the potency of stomach acid and the viewing capabilities of dead fish; but was simultaneously a fine example of his empathic nature.
Nigel was the youngest Emperor penguin in history to become Emperor. His youthful perspective was a breath of crisp Antarctic air. His ideas on the Minimum Wage Review were inspired. His mere presence created flow and disrupted stagnation.
Nigel was a thinker, a philosopher. However, he was flawed; flawed in a tragically beautiful way.
The Emperor thought about things to an unnecessary and sometimes unproductive level sometimes. He worried that his hunting skills were breaking up the marriages of shrimp, leaving the crustaceans widowed and morose. He also felt pangs of guilt, like never-tiring punches to his oily liver, about the orphaned squid left behind after every penguin’s meal. He knew deep in his lightweight, flexible bones that most of the antisocial and violent behaviour displayed by delinquent squid gangs was in correlation to the consumption of one or both of their parents. Social order was disorganised. The icebergs were getting tagged with squid ink obscenities. Even in the posh areas, crude scrawlings stained the ice and upset the ‘white levels’, which must stay at around 84%. Ancient penguins prophesised in caves that if the percentage of white dropped below this level, Antarctica would fall into darkness. They reasoned the creation of light was a chain reaction of reflections bouncing off the ice, back and forth, magnifying, and escalating to infinity. It was like a game of pool where momentum never wore out and inertia was powerless. No one had thought to test the validity of this theory. It was perfect logic for a penguin, therefore indisputable. No one had thought to question why a penguin would use a game of pool as an analogy, though it is rumoured that American scientists at Scotts Base have a pool table and are shark-like in their exploitation of penguins in their illegal pool tournaments.
Nigel felt levels of guilt that had no place inside the heart of a bird. His innate need for survival was in conflict with the other sea creatures need for family stability.
His constant worrying concerned Donna, who decided without consultation that he should seek help. After work one evening, she took him to what she thought was a counselling session at Josh and Tina’s spot in the valley. It was actually a mutiny-slash-intervention.
Pengy Ping-Pong, Deputy Emperor, was standing centre-forward of a large assembly of Antarctica’s noblest dignitaries. “Emperor, you are fair and just, but you worry far too much. We are concerned that your ability to rule Antarctica is being jeopardised by your humanistic thought processes.”
“I am a good Emperor.”
“That is disputable. Pingu saw you drafting up papers to open a Squid adoption agency, pairing up orphaned baby squids with infertile adults.”
“It will solve the graffiti problem.”
“Nigel, this is the exact bat-shit crazy stuff that is concerning us!” Pengy Ping-Pong was exasperated. He was next in line to the throne, but took no joy in receiving it this way.
“What is a bat?”
The penguins, black bowling pins in an icy lane, shuffled nervously.
“Donna. You tricked me.”
The shuffling increased. No one wanted to witness the quick corrosion of this marriage. “Nigel. I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was happening. I swear. I thought we were going to interpret squid-ink blots until you felt better.”
“And to think I turned down a threesome for you.”
“That hurts Nigel.”
“Donna, you are dead to me.”
Nigel the Ex-Emperor of the Emperor penguins could not face his narrow-minded community. He did not want to see another penguin as long as he lived.
He leapt into the ocean and swam. He did not look back, his streamlined form made sure of that.
He passed schools of fish. They darted in terror. This was not the legacy he wished to leave behind.
He was tired, he was hungry, but he would not shatter his resolve to respect a fish’s family unit.
The water got warmer. Too warm for a penguin. He continued. He would break free from the ways of the Penguin. He would become a man, a human man, where thinking is encouraged, and adopting other races was fashionable.
He landed on a beach in New Zealand. The ice was brown and whipped him when the wind blew. There was only 4% white. Yet not in darkness. Penguins had a lot to learn.
He thought of Donna as he tried to cool down. The brown ice was not refreshing and stuck to his throat. Donna. Was she really to blame? Of course she wasn’t. Sweet, simple Donna, who had aspirations of being a hairdresser ‘til she was swept into the foray of penguin politics. He forgave her. He sent his apologies with the winds that were bound for his birthplace. He would never return.
He ate a stick. He handed his life to the surrounding humans. He awaited his fate. He was not worried.
For the epilogue of this story, go to : http://www.stuff.co.nz/environment/5185989/Ailing-Kapiti-emperor-penguin-rescued#
