It won an Oscar, The March of the Penguins. The sound of Morgan Freeman’s voice was worth watching the movie, just his voice. It was an amazing movie. I do have to, in all honestly say, however, there was a time when the march of the penguins was not welcomed at my house. There, upon arriving home, was a huge sign and some Penguins in the yard. I did not invite the fishing creatures from the artic. But they were there.
The giggling in the back of the car told me who was responsible for this penguin infestation.
First off my mother and my wife conspired to populate the penguins. Their motive was my 40th birthday. The impact, however, was huge. First off what do you do with 40 penguins other than stare at them and remember why or who?
The good thing is they were not live penguins cavorting about the yard as if they owned it. We are the owners here, the live penguins exclaiming. We belong here, and you do not! They were wooden cutouts. Wanna be live penguins seeking the magic fairy dust required to make them real (perhaps a pixie could have helped, who knows). I struggle with the pictures to this day, the memory of the penguins overwhelming. Where were you on the day the Penguins attacked?