Kowalski stood outside his home, chest puffed out proudly, feathers ruffled, a rather goofy grin on his face, as he stared at what was before him.
"Is it good, Dad? Did I do a good job?"
Kowalski looked down at his son, a young pingüino, pingüino de with tiny tuffs of down feathers clinging to his new, slick ones, much like Kowalski's own memories, both quickly fading reminders of their past. Kowalski notes how long it had taken Kona to lose his feathers; a año longer than normal, but just as well, it had been the same for him. Kowalski laid a flipper on Kona's shoulder, and grinned some more.
"Not good,...
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