Pippa
The driver was trying to make up for lost time, but should not have been taking the refrigerated truck through such a strong dust storm at night. When it overturned, the back door painted “Pippa the Magic Penguin” jolted open. A dazed and disoriented Pippa waddled into the desert night and was overcome by the driving wind and dust before collapsing asleep by a large cactus.
In the earliest moments of dawn, Pippa awoke to a pitch-black sky and the same gazillion stars that she used to admire in Antarctica. At least the storm had passed. But the surrounding dirt triggered her recognition that she was nowhere near home. She didn’t like the bumpy truck, but at least it had snow, ice, and plenty of fish to eat. This was much worse.
While standing up she was pricked by the cactus. “Ouch!” She turned to face a creature she had never encountered. She could barely see its silhouette standing tall against a dark blue/black gradient background. “What’s your name?”
There was no answer. Pippa considered it must be asleep and spoke louder, “Ahoy, sir! Where am I?”
Still no answer. Pippa was confounded by the quiet giant, the sandy strangeness beneath her webbed feet, and her bewildering predicament. She began to cry.
After a while, a grumpy voice finally responded, “Go away.”
Pippa looked up, confused. “Can you help me get home?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Pippa the Penguin. I’m lost.”
“Hmmph! There are no penguins in the desert. Take yourself and your pranks far away.”
“But I am far away and I am indeed a penguin.”
“There are no penguins in the desert and you are disturbing my sleep.”
“Sir, I assure you, I am a penguin and I am here. You ought not to forsake a distressed traveler.” Pippa’s voice, though small, held a surprising firmness.
“See here, you little pipsqueak, I’m too old and too tired to entertain such nonsense. If you were a penguin you wouldn’t be here. And if you were really here, and not some bad dream, you wouldn’t be a penguin.”
Pippa pulled a needle out of the creature’s trunk.
“Hey!” The cactus became more alert. “That smarts!”
“See? You are not dreaming and I’m really here.”
Although the earliest dawn light was only dimly reaching across the desert, the cactus gazed down attempting to discern the source of his trouble. Sure enough, he could just make out the lighter parts of the late-night nuisance. “If you’re a penguin, how did you get here?”
At last, Pippa felt like some progress was being made. She narrated her capture, her journey on a boat that brought her to a strange land where she became a mascot for a traveling ice show, leading to her escape and their meeting at this moment. Pippa looked up at the giant, a tiny point of distress in a dark desert hoping for any hope — or at least direction.
The cactus finally replied, underscoring some incredulity, “You’re a ‘magic’ penguin?”
Pippa puffed out her chest, a touch offended. “I assure you I brought delight to every show!”
The cactus sighed, “Alright, alright little one. I don’t know about that kind of magic or getting you home, but there’s plenty of snow and ice and streams with fish up in those mountains over yonder, which will become visible as it gets lighter. I’m sure my buddy Al the Eagle will take you there when the sun comes up but it ain’t no ocean.”
Pippa’s eyes widened. She had never been to the mountains or flown with an eagle. And snow, ice, and fish were a lot closer to home than here. But it wasn’t where she wanted to be. With a mixture of delight and sadness, she responded, “Thank you, kind sir. I appreciate your help. But I don’t think there will be other penguins up there and it’s not my home.”
“Well, my little pipsqueak, whether in the desert or the Antarctic or anywhere else in this world — even if it’s temporary — to truly make it livable, you’ll need to bring your own style of real magic.”
by George Alger
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