| San Francisco, July 2009. Two male penguins, who had sucessfully hatched an egg | |
| and were rearing the chick, had split up over a female, who had enticed one of the | |
| partners away, leaving the other bereft. I had slight doubts about the story, as in one | |
| report the dramatis personae were Harry and Pepper, with temptress Linda, and in another | |
| the names used below. Despite the doubts, it was far too good a story for Arthur and Gordon | |
| not to discuss.) | |
| (The pub. Sunday papers are scattered here and there. Gordon is reading an Hercule Poirot mystery.) | |
| Arthur | There's a report here about gay penguins getting divorced. In a zoo somewhere. |
| Gordon | America. |
| Arthur | You've read it? |
| Gordon | No. It's just that -- anything weird happens, it's always in America. |
| Arthur | There's these two chap penguins -- Silo and Roy. And they're -- well, a civil partnership. |
| Gordon | That's right, it's legal now. Well, it always was, for penguins. |
| Arthur | And they've been living together and managed to hatch an egg -- |
| Gordon | Whose egg? |
| Arthur | Ah… it doesn't say. Ah, yes, that's a loose end. |
| Gordon | P'raps they adopted. |
| Arthur | Would they be allowed to do that? |
| Gordon | Social Services are much more relaxed these days. And as you said, |
| it's America. | |
| Arthur | Of course. Anything goes. |
| Gordon | Madonna will do it next. |
| Arthur | Apparently, they tried to rear a rock first, but that didn't seem to work. |
| Gordon | They may be very short-sighted penguins. |
| Arthur | Anyway, for the last six years, they've been rearing the chick. |
| Gordon | Imparting essential penguins skills. |
| Arthur | Diving for fish and so on, yes. And then this female -- called Scrappy -- she was a widow- |
| woman with a large parcel of real-estate, and -- | |
| Gordon | Sorry… real-estate? Penguins? |
| Arthur | Scrappy's late husband had controlled not one but two nests, and she'd inherited both. |
| Gordon | Ri-ight… |
| Arthur | We're not just talking any old nests here, Gordon. These are prime sites, commanding |
| a breath-taking view of the water's edge. | |
| Gordon | Bought and paid for, are they? |
| Arthur | With no negative equity. |
| Gordon | Free of all rents and tithes, yes… |
| Arthur | You can mock, Gordon, but these are tough times. Even penguins have to think about |
| their future. | |
| Gordon | Of course. |
| Arthur | Anyway… This Scrappy suddenly appears, and starts -- you know -- making eyes at Silo. |
| Playing the temptress. | |
| Gordon | Really? |
| Arthur | Rubbing up against him and so on… |
| Gordon | Flaunting herself? |
| Arthur | Belly dancing, maybe. |
| Gordon | She sounds like a slut to me. |
| Arthur | And the next thing you know, she's taken over, and Roy is out in the cold -- |
| Gordon | She's a home-wrecker. |
| Arthur | -- after six years. |
| Gordon | And another chick becomes the victim of a broken nest. |
| Arthur | Exactly. |
| (Gordon drinks, and ponders.) | |
| Gordon | Mind you, Silo doesn't come out of this too well. |
| Arthur | He just fell victim to the wiles of a -- a Jezebel. |
| Gordon | Ah, yes, but did he? |
| Arthur | What are you implying? |
| Gordon | Well, you said yourself… she was a property millionaire. One nest for her and |
| Silo, and then … you know… probably letting the other one out. | |
| Arthur | You're saying he left to improve his lot? |
| Gordon | Well, I don't know. He might have. I mean, I hardly know these people. It just |
| seems to me he swapped one life for another life of riches and luxury. He was a | |
| poor working penguin -- she was an heiress. I know what Hercule Poirot would say -- | |
| -- follow ze money. | |
| Arthur | Well, I think he'd say -- "Cherchez la femme." |
| Gordon | That's hardly fair, is it, simply to put all the blame on the woman? I thought we'd |
| got beyond that. That's as bad as the Taliban. | |
| Arthur | I'm not saying they're always to blame. Just that they're deadlier than the male. |
| (A pause. Another drink.) | |
| Gordon | Well, I just think there's more to it. If I was Poirot, I'd be looking very hard at |
| the circumstances surrounding that egg. I mean -- where did it come from? | |
| Arthur | You're suggesting it may have been egg-napped? |
| Gordon | I'm not suggesting anything. I simply don't believe that we have all the facts. What |
| we do know is that the egg wasn't their own. Ergo, it must have been obtained | |
| from somewhere. | |
| Arthur | Well, while we're casting suspicion around like a penguin with no arms, I'd like to |
| know how the husband died. | |
| Gordon | How the -- |
| Arthur | Scrappy's husband. We've haven't had that explained to us either. All we know is that |
| there was an unexplained death, and she inherited. Very convenient. | |
| Gordon | You think there may have been foul play? |
| Arthur | I just don't know what to think. |
| Gordon | Ye-es… Something about this story doesn't quite add up. |
| Arthur | I'm starting to wonder if this whole thing wasn't a set-up from the beginning. |
| Gordon | Maybe we're looking at it backwards… |
| Arthur | Upside-down. |
| Gordon | Yes… Suppose -- just suppose, that Scrappy and Silo were lovers… |
| Arthur | Scrappy becomes pregnant… |
| Gordon | And suddenly, the husband is in the way. |
| Arthur | They have to get rid of him, fast. |
| Gordon | At that point -- enter Roy… |
| Arthur | A hit-penguin. |
| Gordon | A contract is put out… a deal made. |
| Arthur | Roy and Silo batter the husband to death -- |
| Gordon | Probably with the afore-mentioned rock. But they're apprehended by the long flipper |
| of the law… | |
| Arthur | Caught in possession of the rock. |
| Gordon | And how do they explain it? |
| Arthur | We're trying to hatch it. |
| Gordon | So then they have to live together, to make the story look good. |
| Arthur | But after a while, the heat is off -- |
| Gordon | And the two lovers can be together. Very nice, very cosy. |
| Arthur | The perfect murder. |
| Gordon | Until they tangled with Hercule Poirot. |
| (They drink.) | |
| Gordon | Shame, really, that they're not humans. |
| Arthur | Yes, because then they'd be locked up -- |
| Gordon | In the little grey cells. |
| (Lights out.) | |
| © Leonard Morley 2009 |