Free Leaping Beauty: And Other Animal Fairy Tales by Gregory Maguire, Chris L. Demarest Page A

but Doc Walrus.

    The truth needs to be told. It is bitter and it is ugly, but so was the walrus.

    The cunning old doctor wanted to eat all three of the penguin children. That was why he had advised poor Mama Penguin to move to the South Seas. Her blood wasn’t really as sluggish as the doctor had said. It was all a fiendish plot to provide him with fresh penguin steaks.

    Far away, as her iceberg began to melt in the heat of the tropical seas, old Mama Penguin was wondering if she had made the right decision. But didn’t all children need to grow up and leave home sometime?

    The walrus waddled up to the house built out of straw. He was exceedingly hungry. He knocked on the front door and said, “Little penguin, little penguin, let me come in.” The oldest penguin looked out the peephole. “Why are you carrying a knife and a fork and a jar of salsa?” he asked.

    “I bought them at a garage sale,” said the walrus. “I’ve come to check your pulse. Your mama told me to look in on you from time to time. I need to make sure you’re flossing regularly.
    So let me come in.”

    “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” said the penguin.

    “You haven’t got any hair on your chinny chin chin,” said the walrus.

    “That’s what I mean,” said the penguin, and slammed the peephole shut.

    “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in,” said the walrus.

    The walrus couldn’t really blow the house in. He wasn’t good at huffing and puffing, just bluffing. Besides, the penguin was too busy heating up a pot of fish to pay attention.

    Unfortunately, the penguin left the oven on and the door open, and the house of straw went up in flames. The penguin just barely escaped through the back door, and he ran to the house of twigs, which was nearby.

    “Save me!” cried the oldest penguin.

    “Oh, okay,” said the middle penguin. “Would you stir these fish while I go answer the doorbell?”

    It was the walrus again. “It’s the good old kindly doc who makes house calls,” said the walrus through the screen door. “I’ve come to take your temperature. And I have to check to see if you’re flossing as you should. Your mama told me to keep an eye out for your health, and I intend to.”

    “Then what are you doing with that paring knife and the sack of onions and the sprigs of fresh coriander?” asked the middle penguin.

    “I’m on my way to a cooking class over at the community college,” said the walrus. “At this rate, I’m going to be late. So little penguin, little penguin, let me come in.”

    “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” said the middle penguin.

    “You haven’t got any hair on your chinny chin chin,” said the walrus. “Come to think of it, you haven’t got much of a chinny chin chin, either.”

    “That about settles it, then,” said the middle penguin, and slammed the door.

    “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in,” said the walrus.

    “Enough with this huffing and puffing stuff,” called the oldest penguin. But meanwhile, the middle penguin had left the oven on and the door open. The house of twigs caught fire and burned to the ground. The two penguins barely escaped with their lives.

    They raced next door.

    The youngest penguin had been having fun with the blowtorch. It was easy to use it to slice blocks of glacial ice into huge cubes. The youngest penguin had built a dance studio with a full wall of mirrors and a café and a lounge, complete with a jukebox all made of ice. The youngest penguin was busy perfecting an ensemble piece to go in the ballet about Cleopatra the Queen of the Nile. This number was called the Dance of the Sugarplum Pharaohs.

    “Let us in!” cried the oldest penguin and the middle penguin.

    “Did you come to see the show?” asked the youngest penguin. “It’s not finished yet, but I can show you what I have so far.”

    “There’s a hungry walrus outside,” cried the other