Beady eyed penguis will take over the world. Light Blackwater.
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I have a stuffed penguin. The stuffed penguin sits on the floor, usually, or under the bed, or, occasionally, on the couch against the wall when someone takes pity on the furniture and cleans for me. I am not a stuffed animal kind of person. I despise plush in all its forms, to the extent that you can find me glaring at my own fur when I’m phased whenever it’s been too long between haircuts.
And yet there is a stuffed penguin currently on my bed, and it was joined today by one of those mini Beanie Babies McDonalds sometimes hands out, so now the stuffed penguin has a stuffed spawn. If this a the sign of the future, I will, personally, lead the boycott against the local McDonalds. They might even give in. Werewolves have large appetites, there are many werewolves locally, and werewolves follow their Alpha. As I am Alpha, should I chose to boycott, the pack would join me, costing the Forks branch possibly thousands.
When I say the pack would join me, I mean the pack minus the bringer of the stuffed penguin. She’d probably go and steal all their miniature plush and hide them all over the house just to annoy me. She does things like that. Right after she first started phasing, she hid Milkbones all over the Rez, and there was a period of three weeks or so where everyone in the pack had to make sure there wasn’t a dog biscuit in their seat or bed or hidden in their shoe before sitting down or going to sleep or putting on their shoe. She has taken the idea of being contrary and raised it to an art form.
Thus the stuffed pride of penguins now on my bed.
I suppose it’s my fault. She’d made that point very clear. I’d mentioned to Ness one day about how the only thing I remembered from school when I was her age (she was looking about seven at the time) was going to the Woodlands Park Zoo, not Dostoevsky, and this had led down a long and winding path to Leah having been enlisted to take Nessie to the zoo. Leah, ‘cause I guess a zoo is like a leech snack bar or something, so none of the Cullens could go, and not any of the rest the pack, ‘cause I guess it’s like weird or something to see teenaged boys taking small girl children on outings – though, as I must point out, Quil does the same with Claire all the time. But whatever.
Thus, my fault.
And Ness, being Ness, had asked before she left if I wanted anything from the zoo. I told her a penguin. Why a penguin, I don’t know, but Emmett was asking for a grizzly bear and Rose was telling him what an idiot he was being, so I guess one thing flowed to another. And Leah, being Leah, got the stuffed penguin and presented it to me in front of Ness in such a way that I couldn’t deny it.
And now the penguin has a nestling, or whatever you call small avians.
I was attempting to do homework, ‘cause I’d discovered teachers liked you doing that kind of thing and I didn’t want to have to spend yet another year in school ‘cause I’ve been too beset with pack things to study and do homework and whatnot, and I found the penguin very distracting. Maddening even.
Well, technically, it wasn’t the penguin. It wasn’t doing anything, which was good ‘cause it was a stuffed penguin and not a wind-up one. It was more the fact that the penguin was being used as a hand rest at the moment, and the very stiff, very long beak had gotten caught up in that person’s shirt, lifting higher than usually happened in polite company.
From her penguin-aided position my bed, “Jake, what’s the code for the combo again-“
“X, A, X, and then the right trigger,” I told her for the third time today.
“And that,” she mashed the buttons, until, at last, her enemy lay in a pool of his own blood on the screen, “makes seven, little brother,” she said lying back against my pillows, while Seth sat cross-legged and frowning on the floor. “Time to pay up.”
“No fair, Lee. You cheated.”
“No I didn’t,” she protested, disentangling the penguin and plopping it, idly, in her lap.
Turning on me, “And you helped.”
I did my best to look innocent. I think it failed.
“I think somebody’s just jealous our illustrious Alpha likes me more.”
My eyes bugged out a little. One did not like Leah Clearwater, hider of dog biscuits and provider of penguin plush. One feared for ones health around her. Turning around, though, I saw she wasn’t talking to me or Seth, though, but to the penguin. And continued to do this whenever Seth addressed her, until he stormed off, shouting that he’d show her. He’d probably try something stupid like switching all the soda in their house with diet, or something else lame like that. Seth’s attempts at revenge are very sad and usually very short. Knowing Leah, she probably wouldn’t notice.
As soon as Seth was out of earshot, she threw the penguin at me.
“What was that for!”
“Felt like it.”
“Felt like it!”
“Well,” she said, sitting up just enough to fix the pillows while going through the menus on the game to bring it back to campaign mode, “I heard somewhere about the wonders of negative reinforcement, so that should remind you next time not to ogle me when my brother’s in the room.”
I glared at the offending penguin, which had somehow managed to knock my chemistry book off the table in its landing. “Fine, no ogling, whatever, sorry.” Bending down, I was picking up the textbook when I felt the mini-penguin hit me in the back of the head – it didn’t hurt or anything; despite werewolf strength, plush was still only plush, but it was the fact of the matter that bugged me. “What was that for?”
“Not listening to me.”
I threw both penguins back at her. “I did listen. I wasn’t even looking your way. How is that ogling?”
She caught both and, placing the larger back under her arm, turned her attention back to the game – or so I thought. “I didn’t say you couldn’t look. Just not when Seth was in the room.”
More then a little stunned, “Oh,” I managed, trying to figure out how this was going to lead to hidden packets of kibble in sock drawers or pain and suffering, or, really, any of the usual Leah responses to anything.
After a couple of moments, though, she frowned at the game – clearly not noticing or ignoring my continued looking – and set down the controller. “I’m giving up now. Dying all the time is no fun without anyone to mock.” She slid off the bed – allowing me another ogling opportunity – and placed the penguins carefully where she’d been. “See you later.”
Turning on the penguins, “What the hell was that about?” I demanded several minutes later. But the penguins, naturally, said nothing and continued to stare at me with their beady little black eyes, as if daring me to try anything.
Stupid penguins. They’ll take over the world one day.