think it’s been medicated,” said Blue, gargling with snow to try and get rid of the taste. Paulie sniffed the fish and screwed up his beak.
“Medicated? Nobody’s ill. What’s going on?”
None of the penguins said a word, but they all found themselves staring at Muriel, who was trying to hide behind Hatty and Brenda.
“What?” said Muriel. “Why is everyone looking at me?”
Big Paulie flapped his fish in her face.
“Is the reason I’m having to swallow this, something to do with you?”
“It was Hatty and Brenda!” blurted Muriel. “Wasn’t it, Brenda and Hatty?”
Blue was about to leap to their defence when the brown bears stuck their noses in and told Paulie the whole story. When he heard about the pooping plot, his eyebrow feathers shot over the back of his head and, throwing his flippers up in the air, he confronted the ringleader.
“You did this to our visitors? You pooped on the people who pay for our pilchards?”
Muriel shuffled her feet. “I was only trying to get them to come and see us instead of the new animal.”
“Animal shmanimal!” snapped Paulie. “I’m not interested. We are a polite and dignified species and, thanks to you, our reputation has just gone down the toilet. I’m ashamed to be called a penguin.”
“It was just a joke,” muttered Muriel, nudging Brenda sharply in the ribs.
“Ha ha,” said Brenda nervously.
“Do I look like I’m laughing?” screeched Paulie. “I was going to give you all a wonderful surprise, but, thanks to Muriel, you can forget it!”
All the penguins took a step backwards as he stomped over to his palace without a second glance.
“I wonder what the surprise was?” sighed Blue.
“We’ll never know now, will we?” said Rory.
Muriel stopped looking at her feet and turned on him.
“Oh my cod! Why is everyone blaming me? It’s not my fault – is it, Hatty and Brenda?”
But Hatty and Brenda were so upset about not having a surprise, they pretended to be deaf.
“No one is going to come and visit us now. Not after what you did,” said Blue.
Seeing that no one was on her side – not even her best friends – Muriel had no option but to try and win everybody back, including the visitors.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she said. “I have a brilliant plan. You’re going to love me for it.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Rory. “But let’s hear it, anyway.”
Muriel folded her flippers and took a deep breath.
“All right, I’ll tell you… in the morning,” she said. “Meet me at Waldo’s hutch at dawn.”
“It’s the weekend. Maybe she’s having a lie-in,” shivered Blue.
“She’s lying, all right,” said Rory, stamping his frozen flippers. “Muriel hasn’t got a plan; she’s all beak. She’s not coming.”
They were just about to leave when Waldo flung his door open.
“What are you doing out there, darlings?” squealed the chinstrap penguin. “You’ll catch your death! We might originate from the Antarctic, but this weather is enough to freeze the bits off an Inuit… Come in!”
He ushered them into the warmth of his hutch. It was too warm, if anything, because, among the numerous items of lost property left behind at City Zoo over the years, there was a disposable barbecue, which Waldo had just lit with a box of matches stolen by the elephant from its keeper’s pocket.
There was an unwritten rule among the animals that any items of interest they found should be passed to Waldo, who used them to create collages and sculptures with his fellow artists, Warren and Wesley. They were already in the hutch, sitting at the table in front of a box of bits-and-pieces, and were making something. While it came as no surprise to see the Arty Party Penguins there, Rory and Blue hadn’t expected to see the peculiar-looking creature perched on Warren’s knee. It was roughly the size of a fairy penguin, but had pink curly fur, a pair of antennae and a brightly coloured tail tied along its length with red ribbons like a fancy kite.
“Good morrow,” said Warren, looking up briefly from his handiwork.
“Hi,” said Rory, “What are you making?”
“A terrible mistake,” Warren replied, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of whoever it was on his lap.
Whoever it was gave his false moustache a sharp tug. “Oh my cod! It is not a mistake, Warren. It’s a brilliant concept!” it screeched.
Blue did a double take.
“Muriel, is that… you?” The voice sounded familiar, but it was hard to be certain because she was wearing a sequinned mask.
“No, it’s not me, Bloop,” said Muriel. “The visitors don’t want to see the likes of me and you, do they? They want to see something far more chichi than penguins, which is why I am now a parrot of Paradise.”
She hopped off Warren’s lap, did a little twirl and her tail fell off.
“Don’t you dare laugh, Rory!” she snapped. “It’s your turn next.”
Rory frowned. “What? Is this your amazing plan?”
“Yes! We are all going to disguise ourselves as rare exotic species,” she insisted, rooting around in Wesley’s box. She pulled out an old shuttlecock and wedged it on his head. “You can be a dodo.”
“I don’t want to be a dodo!” said Rory, pulling it off with a loud plop. “This is madness.”
Just at that moment, there was a knock at the door.
“That will be the others,” said Muriel enthusiastically as Warren glued her tail back on. “I told them to meet me here for a costume fitting. Don’t look at me like that, Bloop. We’re all in this together. You can be a purple-crested booby.”
Hatty and Brenda were the first to arrive.
“Where’s Muriel?” said Hatty, looking round irritably.
“I don’t know,” tutted Brenda. “Trust her to make us get up early and not be here on time.”
“That is soooo like Muriel,” said Hatty. “She is such a pain in the tail feathers.”
Blue was miming frantically to the fairy penguins to shush, but they thought she was waving.
“Hello, Blue,” waved Hatty. “You haven’t seen Bossybeak, have you?”
Blue cringed. “Who? I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Brenda looked