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Humor 🤣 The Maltese Penguin: a group story

Maister

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island.
 

TOFB

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086.
 

luckless pedestrian

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound.
 

Maister

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come.
 

JNA

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher.
 

Gedunker

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony.
 

Maister

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.
 
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luckless pedestrian

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in.
 

Planit

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them.
 

Maister

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line.
 

dandy_warhol

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.
 

mendelman

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage.
 

dandy_warhol

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.
 

DVD

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.

The first victim of the waddling invasion force was a quiet farm house on the edge of Marsaxlokk, a place known to stockpile fish the army would need to continue it's campaign of destruction.
 

Maister

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.

The first victim of the waddling invasion force was a quiet farm house on the edge of Marsaxlokk, a place known to stockpile fish the army would need to continue its campaign of destruction. Ronaldo ordered his penguins to forcibly pry open the doors of a pole barn used to store a trawler's worth of fish; the overpowering odor of rank fish soon overwhelmed them. "Damn, was that you Charlie? You gotta warn us ahead of time if you're gonna cut an SBD like that," said Ronaldo as several other penguins held their beaks in disgust.
 

DVD

Cyburbian
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15,481
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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.

The first victim of the waddling invasion force was a quiet farm house on the edge of Marsaxlokk, a place known to stockpile fish the army would need to continue its campaign of destruction. Ronaldo ordered his penguins to forcibly pry open the doors of a pole barn used to store a trawler's worth of fish; the overpowering odor of rank fish soon overwhelmed them. "Damn, was that you Charlie? You gotta warn us ahead of time if you're gonna cut an SBD like that," said Ronaldo as several other penguins held their beaks in disgust. They soon learned it wasn't Charlie, it was the dog, Fernando, an avid Abba fan, who was already on the way out the door before the odor overwhelmed his senses.
 

mendelman

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.

The first victim of the waddling invasion force was a quiet farm house on the edge of Marsaxlokk, a place known to stockpile fish the army would need to continue its campaign of destruction. Ronaldo ordered his penguins to forcibly pry open the doors of a pole barn used to store a trawler's worth of fish; the overpowering odor of rank fish soon overwhelmed them. "Damn, was that you Charlie? You gotta warn us ahead of time if you're gonna cut an SBD like that," said Ronaldo as several other penguins held their beaks in disgust. They soon learned it wasn't Charlie, it was the dog, Fernando, an avid Abba fan, who was already on the way out the door before the odor overwhelmed his senses.

THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before.
 

Maister

Chairman of the bored
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Messages
29,608
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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.

The first victim of the waddling invasion force was a quiet farm house on the edge of Marsaxlokk, a place known to stockpile fish the army would need to continue its campaign of destruction. Ronaldo ordered his penguins to forcibly pry open the doors of a pole barn used to store a trawler's worth of fish; the overpowering odor of rank fish soon overwhelmed them. "Damn, was that you Charlie? You gotta warn us ahead of time if you're gonna cut an SBD like that," said Ronaldo as several other penguins held their beaks in disgust. They soon learned it wasn't Charlie, it was the dog, Fernando, an avid Abba fan, who was already on the way out the door before the odor overwhelmed his senses.

THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!
 

luckless pedestrian

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It was a dark and stormy night. Looking out on the water, one could see the penguins closing in on the island. The date: March 15, 2086. Dodging the back and forth, keeping in the rhythm of a searchlight going back and forth over the water, the penguins glide quietly, skimming the water to not make a ripple or a sound. In a few short minutes the penguins would be swarming ashore by the tens of thousands; a feeling of dread descended over the entire island of Malta, for they knew this moment would someday come. If it wasn't for the hungry pods of Orcas the penguin count would have been much higher. Even with the Orca culling, the onslaught of angry penguins resembled the hatching of Brood X cicadas: a massive wave and deafening cacophony. This deafening cacophony, however, was the sort of racket that should be perfectly reconciled in the reader's mind with the aforementioned gliding quietly, skimming the water and not making a ripple or a sound one normally expects to find during a storm at sea.

Anyway, so they landed on the shores and were surprised to see an Orange Julius store right off the beach and they just couldn't help themselves and went in. That's when they saw it, the Maltese Falcon on a shelf in the corner staring down at them. Being penguins, though, they had no appreciation whatsoever for statuary, scrupulously ignored it, and proceeded to greedily place their drink orders...."who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips," said the Emperor penguin at the head of the line. Ronaldo was his name and orange whips were his game.

Exiting the store with thirty-seven large orange whips, the penguin horde resumed their terrible, relentless march toward the nearest human settlement, leaving only pink streaks of feces to mark their passage. Little did Ronaldo and the horde know that these pink streaks would ultimately lead to their untimely, tragic, orange-filled defeat.

The first victim of the waddling invasion force was a quiet farm house on the edge of Marsaxlokk, a place known to stockpile fish the army would need to continue its campaign of destruction. Ronaldo ordered his penguins to forcibly pry open the doors of a pole barn used to store a trawler's worth of fish; the overpowering odor of rank fish soon overwhelmed them. "Damn, was that you Charlie? You gotta warn us ahead of time if you're gonna cut an SBD like that," said Ronaldo as several other penguins held their beaks in disgust. They soon learned it wasn't Charlie, it was the dog, Fernando, an avid Abba fan, who was already on the way out the door before the odor overwhelmed his senses.

THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]
 
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" "

THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?"

 

Maister

Chairman of the bored
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THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"
 

luckless pedestrian

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THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans
 
Messages
2,959
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23
THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, (which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans).

The riddle had not been answered correctly, but the Sphinx's motherly instincts kicked in: she tossed the dancing scientists to the orcas in the ocean and she spared young Ronaldo.
 

Maister

Chairman of the bored
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THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, (which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans).

The riddle had not been answered correctly, but the Sphinx's motherly instincts kicked in: she tossed the dancing scientists to the orcas in the ocean and she spared young Ronaldo.
"Gee, thanks for opening a can of Whoop Ass on those scientists, Mrs. Sphinx. Does this mean you're gonna grant my wish now?" asked Ronaldo.
 

Veloise

Cyburbian
Messages
6,018
Points
36

THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, (which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans).

The riddle had not been answered correctly, but the Sphinx's motherly instincts kicked in: she tossed the dancing scientists to the orcas in the ocean and she spared young Ronaldo.
"Gee, thanks for opening a can of Whoop Ass on those scientists, Mrs. Sphinx. Does this mean you're gonna grant my wish now?" asked Ronaldo.


CHAPTER TWO
 

dandy_warhol

Cyburbian
Messages
10,062
Points
52
THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, (which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans).

The riddle had not been answered correctly, but the Sphinx's motherly instincts kicked in: she tossed the dancing scientists to the orcas in the ocean and she spared young Ronaldo.
"Gee, thanks for opening a can of Whoop Ass on those scientists, Mrs. Sphinx. Does this mean you're gonna grant my wish now?" asked Ronaldo.

CHAPTER TWO

"Wishes are for deserving little penguins," purred the sleepy sphinx while squishing a grape between her paws.
 

JNA

Cyburbian Plus
Messages
26,495
Points
70
Chapter Two

Ronaldo had contacted the APB ( Albatross, Puffin & Boobies) to help spread the union organization of Penguins which included the militarization of UP (Union of Penguins).

 

dandy_warhol

Cyburbian
Messages
10,062
Points
52
THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, (which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans).

The riddle had not been answered correctly, but the Sphinx's motherly instincts kicked in: she tossed the dancing scientists to the orcas in the ocean and she spared young Ronaldo.
"Gee, thanks for opening a can of Whoop Ass on those scientists, Mrs. Sphinx. Does this mean you're gonna grant my wish now?" asked Ronaldo.

CHAPTER TWO

"Wishes are for deserving little penguins," purred the sleepy sphinx while squishing a grape between her paws. Ronaldo had contacted the APB ( Albatross, Puffin & Boobies) to help spread the union organization of Penguins which included the militarization of UP (Union of Penguins). Mrs. Sphinx was pro-union so Ronaldo's actions pleased her.
 
Messages
2,959
Points
23
THREE YEARS EARLIER...

The penguins were just penguining it up on an ice shelf on the eastern shores of Antarctica when a youngling named Ronaldo thought something he hadn't thought before. Ho-Lee SHIT it's cold here in Antarctica!

[Break for Carnival Cruise Line commercial]

The other local penguins had long resigned themselves to living in their icy abode, for at the only exit from their ice shelf sat a Sphinx with a riddle that nobody was ever able to solve: "What English word rhymes with ORANGE?" While historical accounts differ as to whether psychoactive drugs were involved or not, where most accounts do agree is that the young Ronaldo fearlessly approached the Sphinx and shouted out the word, "MORANGE!"

The scientists working nearby heard this, then pointed to Ronaldo, laughed, set their equipment down and broke out in a merengue dance, (which began the story of why Ronaldo hates humans).

The riddle had not been answered correctly, but the Sphinx's motherly instincts kicked in: she tossed the dancing scientists to the orcas in the ocean and she spared young Ronaldo.
"Gee, thanks for opening a can of Whoop Ass on those scientists, Mrs. Sphinx. Does this mean you're gonna grant my wish now?" asked Ronaldo.

CHAPTER TWO

"Wishes are for deserving little penguins," purred the sleepy sphinx while squishing a grape between her paws. Ronaldo had contacted the APB ( Albatross, Puffin & Boobies) to help spread the union organization of Penguins which included the militarization of UP (Union of Penguins).

Mrs. Sphinx was pro-union so Ronaldo's actions pleased her. "The rest is up to the little guy," the Sphinx thought to herself, as she drifted to sleep and dreamed of moving to the warm, balmy Isle of Malta.
 
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