The Penguin
In the summer of 1979 I was 8 years old and had already dealt with a lot of weirdness in my life. I spent most of my time that summer hanging with my grandmother while my mom was in summer school finishing up her degree. One afternoon my mother, my grandmother, and I were at home doing our respective things when we all heard a weird crashing sound. It wasn’t like a car crash or glass breaking, but more like a baseball hitting the roof of a house. Me being 8, I didn’t care. My mom — on the other hand — with all her powers of being a nosy Nancy had to see what it was.
From my grandmother’s bedroom we heard the first in a series of screams. “Aaaaaarrhhh! There’s a penguin in the house, somebody get the gun, there’s a penguin in the house!”
My grandmother ignored it. She knew my mom was a hysterical person scared of her own shadow so she went about her business. The shrieks came again.
“Quick mama, get the gun there is a penguin coming out the fireplace and it’s going to get us!”
As she stood up to go see what all the noise was about my mother ran back into the room, pushed my grandmother onto the bed, slammed the door, and locked it; saying in fits of exhausted breath “A penguin fell through the fireplace and is loose in the house! It’s going to get us! Shh!”
Even at 8 I knew there was no way a penguin could have gotten into the house via the chimney. Penguins don’t fly, let alone use climbing gear. And why was it coming to get us? What had she done to warrant being visited by a vengeful, flightless water fowl from the South Pole? But my mother — being an irrational person — would not listen. I tried to tell them both.
“Um… Penguins can’t fly and they don’t live anywhere near Memphis; plus it’s a 102°outside. Why would a penguin come here?”
My mother’s response: “Look I’m in college. What grade are you in? I know a penguin when I see a penguin! Shhh… it will hear us!”
See people… right here. This is what I was up against.
I was tested as having a genius level I.Q. when I was 5 but when it comes to ornithology I needed to shut up.
Anyway this is where the stupidity truly begins.
My grandmother decided I was right and moved to peek out the door or maybe get to the phone and call either my uncle or granddad to come home and solve our “penguin”problem. As she unlocked the door my mother began to cry “Don’t let it get you! You can’t leave us yet!”
I shook my head. “Penguins don’t fly “I said.
”Shhh!” was her response.
My grandmother opened the door, looked around and saw nothing; so she stuck a foot out of the door. That’s when she saw it running across the hall from the living room to the kitchen.
She screamed. “What the hell is that thing?!?!”
She slammed the door and locked it again. My mother was shaking, rocking back and forth. The phone call would not be made.
Remember that this was 1979 and cell phones didn’t exist. If they did, they were for the president and the like. There were two phones in our house. One was in my mother’s room; and the other was in the entrance way. We had been cut off from both now that my grandmother had seen whatever the hell it was.
Every now and then we could hear it walk past the door. My mom would freak a bit more, my grandmother kept a calmer stance since she knew the locks would hold. I even got scared when I peeked through the crack between the floor and door and I saw orange bird feet slide by.
We all sat there for four hours ‘til my grandfather got home. When he arrived my mother was screaming “Watch out there is a penguin loose in the house and it’s trying to get us!”
My grandfather — being a World War 2 vet yelled back “What in the hell are you talking about?”
Then he saw it.
He saw the penguin.
We heard an “oh shit!” and then the chase was on. My mother began to cry and ramble about “being careful because it might be poisonous.”
Poisonous?
Did she really just say that?
At this point in my life I had begun to think I was switched at birth or was adopted or maybe I had been kidnapped and my real family just couldn’t pay the ransom so I was stuck there. There was no way I shared genes with these people. Yes folks, at 8 I knew what genes were… I was a nerdy kid. Anyway, after the poisonous comment was made, a loud banging was heard as well as many expletives, and finally one huge boom. My grandfather chased said penguin with one of his work boots through the house. He finally managed to get it outside where it could call home for a flight to South America or wherever home was.
My grandfather knocked on the bed room door.
“Y’all can come out now it’s gone. I ran it back outside. What did you say it was?”
My mother said “A penguin it was a big penguin!”
Grandaddy laughed and said “I’m going to stop paying for your college. You know no damn well penguins can’t fly. That was a pigeon!”
“Told you it wasn’t a penguin, penguins don’t fly. How would have gotten to the roof?” said by yours truly — Mr. Smartass.
My mother looked mad at me and tried to play it cool by saying “I knew that, I was testing you! I meant to call it a pelican!”
My grandmother didn’t talk to my mom for a week. I didn’t blame her one bit.
If anyone would like to adopt me I’m great with others’ kids and dogs. But I’m allergic to cats and aspartame.
Mo Alexander is a nationally touring stand-up comedian. You can read more of his stories and thoughts at his blog, Slap The Stupid.
