He was violently woken by the sound of a bazooka piercing through his ear. Freaked out he looked up and saw the top window was wide open, assuming the sound was coming from outside and too cold to get up and shut it, he curled up in the fetal position burying his face in the pillow, covers pulled over his head. The bazooka sounded off again, the noise was not coming from outside. Surreptitiously he peered over the top of the duvet and there at the end of the bed stood the Emperor, goosing his neck out. Bewildered but not scared he reached for his phone, he had a message, a YouTube video. He watched himself, running across the beach in the dark with a penguin in his arms. He was astounded, the courage a bottle of vodka gave him was impressive. Shame he couldn’t remember being there. He played it back, over and over again. The Emperor flapped loudly at the end of the bed, unsure if it was out of gratitude for being rescued or annoyance at being in his bedroom that he knew was quite a grim space. He decided to give an offering to either celebrate or compensate. And so he got up, went to the freezer and pulled out the no frills fish fingers. The oil marks on his feet made foot prints on the floor. Then in his pants and woolly jumper he sat on the side of the bed, watching the Emperor guzzle down the fish-fingers. He told the Emperor he wanted to be a penguin too. The Emperor looked up and made the sound of a bazooka.
By Nikki Kilburn.