día 27
As Private woke up from cama that morning, the room was dim. Sure the lights were on, but the sky outside the window was darken. Moisture filled the air. Something in the penguins' instincts told them there would be a storm.
He found Skipper standing stiff in front of the window. Terror flooded his eyes. Rico was just as puzzled as Private. There was something bothering Skipper. Uh-oh, here he goes again.
"Skippah, what's wrong?" Private whimpered.
"What?! Uh ... Nothing."
"Is there something we don't know?" Private gulped.
"Listen, the night we came, Ms. Williams tookme into the hall to discuss an issue."
"Which is?" Privare edged on.
"Whenever the lights go out, there's a murder." Skipper sighed. The two gasped.
"Why didn't tu tell us?! That's pretty sly of you! I might even be suspicious."
"Private, tu don't understand." Skipper pleaded.
"You could have saved him. Kowalski would still be alive if tu told him. Why?"
"It's not my fault. I never turned out the lights!"
"Wait, so if tu didn't turn off the lights…" Private's emoctions traded in a flash. His suspicion and anger were blanketed por the shiver, that slithered down his back like Savio.
"Some one was in the room!" Rico growled, still experiencing the hateful feeling in his gut.
"But who?" Private asked. "Let's see, I was asleep, Rico was too. Ramona was reading. Ivory was sleeping and so was Olive."
"This is too confusing. There's no pattern at all: they started with Ellie, and then Kowalski!" Skipper frowned.
"I'm going to get some scallops. I'll see if I can clear my head." Private trembled, but a fake smile betrayed the sorrow and horror deep inside of him.
He headed out the door. His body quaked as he took each step down. When he hit the floor, his mind raced.
"What if it's Skippah? It has to be! That makes perfect sense. How else would he have found me so quick? And, when he had blood on his flippers after-" Private shivered. "No! Skippah would never to that. He's my hero."
The lights flickered. Private panicked, and rushed into the kitchen. Skipper and Rico ran down the stairs, searching for him. Even with the axiety currently between them, Rico was sure he could trust, and follow Skipper's orders… at that time.
Private slammed the thick steel doors behind him. With his back to the door, he stared into the dark kitchen. He hadn't escaped the dark - but only locked himself in it.
Private took a deep breath. The fridge was of course in the back of the room, hidden por rows of shelves, overflowing with food. In his mind it seemed to just dare him to come and see what it held. His past experiences of curiousity hindered his bravery.
The pingüino, pingüino de took a deep breath. His eyes were clenched shut, but flew open. It wouldn't make any assistance to the knowledge of his surrondings. Every time he closed his eyes, and opened them the same color would frighten - enclose - consume him
He reached for the handle. It slid open slowly with a ear-splitting squeak. A bloody face of a male pingüino, pingüino de appeared, screaming Private flailed on his back as the face vanished into a puff of black smoke. The pingüino, pingüino de wheezed and gasped for air through fog. Once the shock was completely gone, the sound of machinery and splurting buzzed in Private's earholes.
With shaking knees, Private managed to push himself up. The racket was coming from deeper inside the kitchen. The pingüino, pingüino de crept forward. It was lucid to see that Private was not alone. Some one had just started a machine.
Skipper and Rico were beside themselves. Private was nowhere, but he let out a blood curtling screech. Right after Private's yelp was another, only this one was from upstairs. Rico started up the stairs. Suddenly Skipper grasped him.
Private tip-toed toward the fuente of the uproar. He stared back in apprehesion a bulky meat grinder. Murky red luquid and squishy pale rosado, rosa objects spewed out, splattering the walls and floor. Dodging the mush, Private made his way to the ladder, that led up to a platform, overlooking the grinder. Reaching the parte superior, arriba was no sweat, but what he saw in the device was what troubled him.
Guts spinning in the propeller at the bottom, getting shred to pieces was the image he saw. And they definitely were too big to be pescado guts. Private covered his mouth, and stepped back. Proceeding to step back, he reached the edge. He closed his eyes, trying to remove the sight from his brain. The siguiente thing he knew, he was falling - into the grinder.
"Goodbye, everything I've come to know and cherish." Private whispered weakly.
As Private woke up from cama that morning, the room was dim. Sure the lights were on, but the sky outside the window was darken. Moisture filled the air. Something in the penguins' instincts told them there would be a storm.
He found Skipper standing stiff in front of the window. Terror flooded his eyes. Rico was just as puzzled as Private. There was something bothering Skipper. Uh-oh, here he goes again.
"Skippah, what's wrong?" Private whimpered.
"What?! Uh ... Nothing."
"Is there something we don't know?" Private gulped.
"Listen, the night we came, Ms. Williams tookme into the hall to discuss an issue."
"Which is?" Privare edged on.
"Whenever the lights go out, there's a murder." Skipper sighed. The two gasped.
"Why didn't tu tell us?! That's pretty sly of you! I might even be suspicious."
"Private, tu don't understand." Skipper pleaded.
"You could have saved him. Kowalski would still be alive if tu told him. Why?"
"It's not my fault. I never turned out the lights!"
"Wait, so if tu didn't turn off the lights…" Private's emoctions traded in a flash. His suspicion and anger were blanketed por the shiver, that slithered down his back like Savio.
"Some one was in the room!" Rico growled, still experiencing the hateful feeling in his gut.
"But who?" Private asked. "Let's see, I was asleep, Rico was too. Ramona was reading. Ivory was sleeping and so was Olive."
"This is too confusing. There's no pattern at all: they started with Ellie, and then Kowalski!" Skipper frowned.
"I'm going to get some scallops. I'll see if I can clear my head." Private trembled, but a fake smile betrayed the sorrow and horror deep inside of him.
He headed out the door. His body quaked as he took each step down. When he hit the floor, his mind raced.
"What if it's Skippah? It has to be! That makes perfect sense. How else would he have found me so quick? And, when he had blood on his flippers after-" Private shivered. "No! Skippah would never to that. He's my hero."
The lights flickered. Private panicked, and rushed into the kitchen. Skipper and Rico ran down the stairs, searching for him. Even with the axiety currently between them, Rico was sure he could trust, and follow Skipper's orders… at that time.
Private slammed the thick steel doors behind him. With his back to the door, he stared into the dark kitchen. He hadn't escaped the dark - but only locked himself in it.
Private took a deep breath. The fridge was of course in the back of the room, hidden por rows of shelves, overflowing with food. In his mind it seemed to just dare him to come and see what it held. His past experiences of curiousity hindered his bravery.
The pingüino, pingüino de took a deep breath. His eyes were clenched shut, but flew open. It wouldn't make any assistance to the knowledge of his surrondings. Every time he closed his eyes, and opened them the same color would frighten - enclose - consume him
He reached for the handle. It slid open slowly with a ear-splitting squeak. A bloody face of a male pingüino, pingüino de appeared, screaming Private flailed on his back as the face vanished into a puff of black smoke. The pingüino, pingüino de wheezed and gasped for air through fog. Once the shock was completely gone, the sound of machinery and splurting buzzed in Private's earholes.
With shaking knees, Private managed to push himself up. The racket was coming from deeper inside the kitchen. The pingüino, pingüino de crept forward. It was lucid to see that Private was not alone. Some one had just started a machine.
Skipper and Rico were beside themselves. Private was nowhere, but he let out a blood curtling screech. Right after Private's yelp was another, only this one was from upstairs. Rico started up the stairs. Suddenly Skipper grasped him.
Private tip-toed toward the fuente of the uproar. He stared back in apprehesion a bulky meat grinder. Murky red luquid and squishy pale rosado, rosa objects spewed out, splattering the walls and floor. Dodging the mush, Private made his way to the ladder, that led up to a platform, overlooking the grinder. Reaching the parte superior, arriba was no sweat, but what he saw in the device was what troubled him.
Guts spinning in the propeller at the bottom, getting shred to pieces was the image he saw. And they definitely were too big to be pescado guts. Private covered his mouth, and stepped back. Proceeding to step back, he reached the edge. He closed his eyes, trying to remove the sight from his brain. The siguiente thing he knew, he was falling - into the grinder.
"Goodbye, everything I've come to know and cherish." Private whispered weakly.
