The Penguins are here

The Indian summer had ended subtly and let autumn announce its presence with grey skies, colourful leaves and various illnesses. Only armed with a leather coat and a pair of suede shoes, I had chosen to surrender silently to this hostile geological take-over. I was well aware of what was about to transpire. Billions of invisible fiends had taken their positions all over the world and awaited an encrypted message. The penguins were here.

It had taken two days before my room mate had found the time to show me, how the central heating was activated. The lack of carpeting made sure that this house remained a giant icebox. I endeavoured to shield myself against the cold by using my jacket and my shoes, but not even that sufficed. It was like experiencing an Alaskan winter with long meditation sessions surrounding the subject of how-the-hell-did-I-end-up-here. I did constantly try to remind myself that things were never easy in the beginning, and Rome was not built in one day. However, these placebo phrases were slowly losing their power. I was in a mood of perpetual bitterness with a terrible urge to desist from all productive activity.

My new mood took its toll by depriving me off all fundamental social skills. There had been a few incidents that could verify, how I had become inapt for any social encounters. What I found odd yet very amusing, was the fact that I did not feel guilty for being so socially impaired. I was able to defy the unwritten laws of ethics and formality without being morally prosecuted. People probably regarded me as the caveman that recently arrived to civilization, but that didn't concern me. Perhaps I had reached the age, where I was old enough to be categorised as eccentric.

I had witnessed something rather unfortunate. My mind was at this point still unable to grasp it. Devil cat had entered the living room with light movements and disappeared behind the television. It was then that I heard the sound of something that reminded me of cold lemonade being poured into a cocktail glass. I closed my eyes hoping that it was my imagination playing tricks on me. By the time I realised that I had not slipped into some sick state of daydreaming, Devil Cat was halfway through its piss. I got up and ran to the television, but I was too late. Devil Cat had finished serving its lemonade and charged out of the living room. There I stood unable to comprehend or believe what had just happened. The secret of why the living room occasionally smelled like piss was finally out. Many times had I entered the living room and been punched in the face by the foul odour of feline urine, but I had been unable to locate the source.

When things couldn't possibly get worse, I was surprised again. This time it was a lump of excrement of some beast that laid there undisturbed to test my endurance. My only guess was that Princess had given this object a lift from the garden and into the utility room. I sighed deeply. It was strange after living in this house for such a short while that I was already able to identify how the most improbable things took place. It wouldn't be long before I could unravel the secrets of the universe, decode highly encrypted information for government agencies and identify that final ingredient in KFC's delicious chicken. I was not sure how much of this that I could take. Not only were the penguins here, but the swampland had claimed the house, and there was absolutely nothing that I could do about it. You probably guessed, what I did. That's right. I cowered.

I was beginning to suspect that the inhabitants of this house enjoyed this rather inhumane and filthy lifestyle. Cleaning up crap and vomit from various members of the animal kingdom was obviously a full-time hobby cherished by everybody in this house besides me. If they were looking to include me into their guild, they could forget about it. I refused to become an element in their equation. The penguins were here, the swampland had claimed the house, the guild of shit was looking to recruit me. I needed to get out very very soon.

Edward T. Shufflebottom