Penguins of Madagascar Movie Novelization (2 page)

“Kowalski, what's our trajectory?”

Kowalski held up a flipper and looked at the sun.

“Ninety-five percent certain, we're still doomed,” he reported.

“And, uh, the other five percent?” Skipper asked.

“Adventure and glory like no penguins have ever seen before!” Kowalski replied.

Skipper nodded. “I'll take that action.”

“Where are we going?” Private asked.

“The future, boys. The glorious future,” Skipper replied as the iceberg sailed into the sunset.

A funky beat pumped throughout
the Afro Circus tent.

“Afro Circus! Afro Circus! Polka dot, polka dot, polka dot . . .”

Normally the penguins worked security backstage while their zoo friends performed for the excited crowds. But tonight, they were on a mission.

Rico lit a long fuse outside the circus tent. As the fuse burned, it snaked around the tent and then curved into the entrance.

Rico followed the burning fuse. It burned past Private, who was dancing to the beat. Skipper stood
by the circus's colorful cannon, taking it all in.

“Kowalski, status report!” he barked.

“I am
really
getting tired of this song!” Kowalski replied.

He ran up to the cannon, carrying a rolled-up circus banner. Rico jumped beside him and together they stuffed the banner inside the mouth of the cannon. Then Kowalski and Rico jumped in, followed by Skipper and Private.

Skipper grinned. “That's the best part of owning a circus. You can transport a cannon over state lines.”

Boom!
They shot from the cannon through the top of the circus tent. The circus banner unfurled to become a crude glider, and the four penguins held on tightly as they soared across the night sky.

“Ten years ago, on this very day, a tiny egg hatched, and our world got a little bit cuter,” Skipper said, and Private giggled.

“So tonight, Private, we celebrate your birthday by infiltrating the United States Gold Depository in Fort Knox, Kentucky!” Skipper announced.

“Splendid!” Kowalski cheered.

Rico beamed happily.

“What?” Private asked, alarmed.

Down below, the huge fortress came into view. Guard towers surrounded the building, as well as a concrete wall topped with razor wire.

Skipper's eyes gleamed. “The Royal Flush.”

“Skipper . . . ,” Private said nervously.

Skipper shot him a warning glare. “Private, what's our rule about interrupting analogies?” he asked.

“Sorry, please continue,” Private said.

Skipper sighed. “The moment's gone. Private ruined it!”

“Sir, we're approaching our target,” Kowalski warned.

Bam!
They smashed into a wall on the top of Fort Knox. Quickly recovering, they peered over the edge of the roof. Two military police officers stood guard at the entrance.

Private was not liking this at all. “But, Skipper, I really don't—”

“Are you questioning my leadership, Private?” Skipper asked.

“No, sir!” Private said quickly.

“Too bad,” Skipper said. “ 'Cause I respect a soldier with some moxie.”

“Really?” Private asked hopefully. “Then I really think we shouldn't—”

Skipper held up his flippers. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Dial back the moxie, sass mouth.”

Private pouted, and Skipper ruffled the feathers on Private's head. “Aw, look at you! Still so adorable.”

Private sighed. Would Skipper ever take him seriously?

Skipper continued with the plan. He motioned to Rico, who tossed him a toy with a spinning clock face. He threw the toy off the roof and ducked back down.

“Fire in the hole!” he yelled.

The toy landed between the two military police officers. The arrow on the clock face stopped spinning and landed on the number eight.

“Eight o'clock. Night-night time!” the toy
announced in a mechanical voice.

Pssshhhht!
A cloud of knockout gas sprayed from the toy and created a cloud around the two policemen. They dropped to the ground, unconscious.

After the gas thinned out, the penguins dropped down in front of the entrance. Private looked around nervously.

“Private! Come on!” Skipper hissed.

Inside the entry hall, more guards patrolled. But Skipper had it figured out. A black-and-white loading dock crossed over the entrance. The penguins used natural camouflage to pass over it. They lay belly-up on the white tiles, so their white bellies blended in. On the black tiles, they flipped facedown. The guards didn't notice them and they quickly reached the door of the vault.

“Please enter the passcode,”
a smooth computer voice instructed.

“Kowalski, you're on,” Skipper said.

“Please enter the passcode.”

Holding out a flipper, Kowalski turned to Rico. “Sonic incursion device.”

Rico coughed up a cassette tape recorder into Kowalski's flipper. He held it up to the speaker's electronic lock and pressed play. A fiddle tune erupted from the speaker.

Skipper raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. Really?”

“We're in Kentucky, Skipper,” Kowalski reminded him. “They do love their fiddle music.”

Clunking sounds came from the massive vault lock as it started to open.
“Y'all come in now, ya hear? Get yourself an iced tea,”
the computer voice said. The doors opened, bathing them in golden light. Skipper entered first, leading the crew into a majestic space filled with rows and rows of golden bricks.

“Private, if you could have anything you wanted in the whole world, what would it be?” Skipper asked him.

“Well, gee, Skipper,” Private said thoughtfully. “I think to be a meaningful and valued member of the team.”

“Oh,” Skipper said. “Well, we got you something else.”

He led them past the gold into the Fort Knox break room and stopped in front of a huge vending machine.

“A vending machine?” Private asked.

“Not just
any
vending machine, Private,” Skipper told him. “The last remaining home for those succulent but chemically hazardous bits of puffed heaven called . . .”

Private's eyes got wide as he noticed the packages inside the machine, glowing under the fluorescent light.

“Cheezy Dibbles!” he cried happily.

Skipper held up a coin. “Happy ding-dong birthday, ya little scamp.”

Private took the coin, squealed with delight, and planted a grateful kiss on Skipper's cheek. Then he squeezed Kowalski in a bear hug before rushing over to Rico. Rico picked him up and planted a kiss right on his beak.

“Now hit that machine and get your present!” Skipper ordered Private.

Private giddily waddled up to the machine and made his selection. Skipper turned to face Kowalski and Rico.

“We just broke into the most secure facility in North
America. Do you know what that means?” he asked.

“We're wanted criminals who'll be on the lam for the rest of our lives, always feeling the hot breath of Johnny Law on our necks?” Kowalski asked.

“No!” Skipper replied. “It means that as elite units go, we're the elite-est of the elite. Top shelf in the bureau. The penultimate . . . plus one!”

Behind him, the bag of Cheezy Dibbles slid off the spiral rack. Just as it fell, two long octopus tentacles snaked out of the machine! They grabbed Private and sucked him inside!

Skipper turned around to address Private—but he was gone.

“Where'd Private go?” Skipper asked.

They approached the machine and saw Private trapped inside.

“Oh, there he is. D3,” Kowalski said.

Skipper sighed. “Aw, Private. How much is he?”

“He's three dollars and fifty cents,” Kowalski replied.

“Well, that's outrageous!” Skipper complained. “Even for Private!”

Fwip!
A tentacle pulled Rico inside.

“Sir! The machine's alive!” Kowalski cried.

Fwip!
A tentacle pulled him in next.

Skipper glared angrily at the machine. “I don't think I like your attitude, vending machine. Or your prices! Release them!”

Another tentacle slid out, and Skipper tried to grasp it, but it sucked him inside too.

A guard walked in, only to see the vending machine, stuffed with penguins, rise up on six octopus tentacles.

“What the . . . ?” the guard asked.

Bam!
The machine head-butted him and crashed out of the break room.

It raced through the halls of Fort Knox, swinging from pipes and ceiling beams to avoid the guard. It swung higher and higher until . . .
smash!
It crashed right through the roof!

Then it launched itself upward into the sky. A helicopter appeared, releasing a giant metal claw hook.

Chunk!
The hook grabbed onto the machine, and the helicopter flew off into the night.

The helicopter flew all the
way to Venice, Italy, a charming city of brick buildings with canals running through it. The copter hovered over a submarine parked at a dock and then lowered the vending machine onto the sub's deck.

The machine descended through a hatch and the walls fell apart, revealing a cage with the four penguins trapped inside. They were all coated with orange Cheezy Dibble dust.

“Kowalski, analysis,” Skipper said.

“All evidence indicates,” he began as his stomach rumbled loudly, “that I ate too many Cheezy Dibbles.”

Private coughed, and a cloud of orange dust poofed out of his mouth.

“We're behind enemy lines and incredibly thirsty,” Skipper said. “Rico, bust us out of this delicious prison.”

Rico hacked up a paper clip, bent it, and picked the lock on the cage. The four penguins burst out and struck ready-to-fight poses.

“Nice work, Rico,” Skipper said. “You are a meaningful and valued member of this team.”

Meaningful and valued
. Private sighed when he heard those words. Skipper had never said that about him. What would it take to impress him, like the others always did?

Private took the paper clip from the lock and tossed it down his gullet. He tried to cough it up, just like Rico, but he couldn't. Instead, he coughed and sputtered.

Skipper spun around and said, “Private! Quit lollygagging . . . and regular gagging.”

Private swallowed the paper clip, wincing. “Sorry,” he said.

Skipper looked around. “Dark and ominous. Two of my least favorite traits in a room,” he said.

Then Private noticed something. “Oh, look! A button!”

He pressed a button on the floor, and the platform they were standing on lowered them into another room.

Skipper shook his head. “Private, what have I told you about—”

“Sorry, what?” Private asked, pressing another button.

A rumbling shook the room. A giant laser came down from the ceiling and pointed directly at the penguins.

“It looks like some sort of giant laser sent to kill us all, sir,” Kowalski reported helpfully.

Skipper slid out of the laser's path. Private spotted the laser controls and scurried over.

“Ooh! Another button!” he cried.

“Nooo!” wailed Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico.

They dashed over to Private, stopping him before he could press it. And in the very next moment . . .

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Water slowly splashed down on them from above.

“Naughty, naughty.” The penguins heard a creepy voice.

They looked up to see a mysterious figure on the catwalk above them. He wore a lab coat and had a weird, enormous head. But that wasn't the only weird thing about him—he was walking upside down, defying gravity!

“Pretty birds belong in their cages,” the creepy guy cooed.