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.