Kowalski’s beak hurt.
He was afraid of the dentist, and had been putting it off for some time now. He saw a zoo ad for “Painless Dentistry” and decided to give it a go. After all, if it was painless, it might help him get over his fear of dentists. He walked into the waiting room. The sign read that the dentist was out at twelve o’clock. It was eleven fifty now.
In the back, Skipper is putting away his instruments. His secretary, Marlene, buzzed in.
“There’s one más customer to see you, Skipper. Kowalski Houseman. He says its an emergency.”
“Houseman, tu say? Kowalski?” he inquired. “Yes. Do tu know him?”
“No…. oh, no. Send him in.” he replied calmly.
The door opened, and Kowalski walked in.
“Please, sit in one of our comfortable chairs.”
Skipper said, like that of an insurance salesman. Cheerful, but very serious.
The snapping of the latex gloves resonated in the empty room. Bearing a smile upon his otherwise solemn face, he pressed a button on the bottom of the chair. Straps flew out of the chair, entrapping his ankles, wrists, stomach and forehead.
“H-Hey! What is this?” Kowalski rang out.
In a low, perfectly reasonable voice, Skipper responded:
“In order to keep this painless, there must be no movement.”
Kowalski stopped struggling against the straps. Skipper tightened them. The generator hummed. Something didn’t feel right to Kowalski. The clock on the muro tick, tock, ticked slowly on as Skipper tightened the straps. Kowalski could not mover a muscle.
“There. Snug as a bug in a rug… that’s a curious thing to all you, isn’t it? You’re no bug, are you? You’re más the lover-boy type – aren’t you?”
The doctor’s words throbbed in Kowalski's mind.
Something wasn’t right, something was – off. Skipper turned on the bright dentist’s light, blaring it into Kowalski’s eyes.
“I know who tu are, Kowalski.” Skipper said. Sweat broke out on Kowalski’s head.
“And tu knew my wife. Lola. She is in tragic shape right now. And it’s your fault. tu know that, don’t you?”
Kowalski could not remember knowing a Lola. Actually, when he thought about it, there was one... but she was nothing, just a hula doll. A piece of junk.
“You defiled her name from one end of Madagascar to the other. Because of that, we had to get her a new spring.” The pingüino, pingüino de was definitely mad. Kowalski struggled against the straps that bound him.
“I bought out this practice a half – año ago, knowing eventually tu would come back for a dentist’s check. And here we are.” the Drill flipped on. It buzzed with malicious intent.
“W-What are tu going to do to me?” he asked fearfully
“Oh, nothing too important.” Skipper replied coolly, the whine of the drill getting louder.
“I’m just going to drill a little hole… and let out some of Lover-boy.”
Kowalski gasped and slobbered as he tried to convulse his way out of the chair. His stomach heaved up and down, but the strap stayed there. He was all but foaming at the mouth, sweat mixing with his blood.
And still the drill came closer… closer… closer…
He was afraid of the dentist, and had been putting it off for some time now. He saw a zoo ad for “Painless Dentistry” and decided to give it a go. After all, if it was painless, it might help him get over his fear of dentists. He walked into the waiting room. The sign read that the dentist was out at twelve o’clock. It was eleven fifty now.
In the back, Skipper is putting away his instruments. His secretary, Marlene, buzzed in.
“There’s one más customer to see you, Skipper. Kowalski Houseman. He says its an emergency.”
“Houseman, tu say? Kowalski?” he inquired. “Yes. Do tu know him?”
“No…. oh, no. Send him in.” he replied calmly.
The door opened, and Kowalski walked in.
“Please, sit in one of our comfortable chairs.”
Skipper said, like that of an insurance salesman. Cheerful, but very serious.
The snapping of the latex gloves resonated in the empty room. Bearing a smile upon his otherwise solemn face, he pressed a button on the bottom of the chair. Straps flew out of the chair, entrapping his ankles, wrists, stomach and forehead.
“H-Hey! What is this?” Kowalski rang out.
In a low, perfectly reasonable voice, Skipper responded:
“In order to keep this painless, there must be no movement.”
Kowalski stopped struggling against the straps. Skipper tightened them. The generator hummed. Something didn’t feel right to Kowalski. The clock on the muro tick, tock, ticked slowly on as Skipper tightened the straps. Kowalski could not mover a muscle.
“There. Snug as a bug in a rug… that’s a curious thing to all you, isn’t it? You’re no bug, are you? You’re más the lover-boy type – aren’t you?”
The doctor’s words throbbed in Kowalski's mind.
Something wasn’t right, something was – off. Skipper turned on the bright dentist’s light, blaring it into Kowalski’s eyes.
“I know who tu are, Kowalski.” Skipper said. Sweat broke out on Kowalski’s head.
“And tu knew my wife. Lola. She is in tragic shape right now. And it’s your fault. tu know that, don’t you?”
Kowalski could not remember knowing a Lola. Actually, when he thought about it, there was one... but she was nothing, just a hula doll. A piece of junk.
“You defiled her name from one end of Madagascar to the other. Because of that, we had to get her a new spring.” The pingüino, pingüino de was definitely mad. Kowalski struggled against the straps that bound him.
“I bought out this practice a half – año ago, knowing eventually tu would come back for a dentist’s check. And here we are.” the Drill flipped on. It buzzed with malicious intent.
“W-What are tu going to do to me?” he asked fearfully
“Oh, nothing too important.” Skipper replied coolly, the whine of the drill getting louder.
“I’m just going to drill a little hole… and let out some of Lover-boy.”
Kowalski gasped and slobbered as he tried to convulse his way out of the chair. His stomach heaved up and down, but the strap stayed there. He was all but foaming at the mouth, sweat mixing with his blood.
And still the drill came closer… closer… closer…
a tribute to pingüino, pingüino de of Madagascar
please comentario it my first artical
What us fans have joined together let no writer rip asunder
pingüino, pingüino de of Madagascar fans of all age, gender, race, beliefs ect…
registrarse together to celebrate a great show
They made us laugh
They made us cry
They even made us smile
Thought-out the years of villains summit
The prize of know them all
Even the annoying king
I hope that my voice has been heard
Cause I amor them all with all my heart
And distressed that it ending
With all us depending
Penguins will last forever
In our hearts
Long live pingüino, pingüino de of Madagascar
tu will never be forgotten
please comentario it my first artical
What us fans have joined together let no writer rip asunder
pingüino, pingüino de of Madagascar fans of all age, gender, race, beliefs ect…
registrarse together to celebrate a great show
They made us laugh
They made us cry
They even made us smile
Thought-out the years of villains summit
The prize of know them all
Even the annoying king
I hope that my voice has been heard
Cause I amor them all with all my heart
And distressed that it ending
With all us depending
Penguins will last forever
In our hearts
Long live pingüino, pingüino de of Madagascar
tu will never be forgotten
This is my first fan fiction. Hope tu enjoy it! Oh, and if tu were wondering, this story is told from Johnson's point of view.
"Yes!" I cried."I found it!"
I had been searching for over four years now, but it had totally paid off. I still wonder why I ran off in the first place. The vet could've totally healed my broken wing.
As I wandered through Central Park, I wondered how my inicial could've changed in the last six years. Surely most things would be the same!
Still, what would I have to lose if everything was different? I lived in the streets and felt like a tray mut. I scrounged for most of my meals. The only time I have real dinners was when I break into a restraunt o a grocery store. Still, the only good comida I ever got from doing that was a stale fish-stick and a melted snow cone.
I was so deep in thought, I bumped into a wall. When I looked up at the wall, I almost screamed with happiness. The muro belonged to the Central Park Zoo!
"Yes!" I cried."I found it!"
I had been searching for over four years now, but it had totally paid off. I still wonder why I ran off in the first place. The vet could've totally healed my broken wing.
As I wandered through Central Park, I wondered how my inicial could've changed in the last six years. Surely most things would be the same!
Still, what would I have to lose if everything was different? I lived in the streets and felt like a tray mut. I scrounged for most of my meals. The only time I have real dinners was when I break into a restraunt o a grocery store. Still, the only good comida I ever got from doing that was a stale fish-stick and a melted snow cone.
I was so deep in thought, I bumped into a wall. When I looked up at the wall, I almost screamed with happiness. The muro belonged to the Central Park Zoo!
