I heard somewhere that the fastest way
to wake up a penguin is to tickle its feet.
This thought rattled around in my brain for weeks.
It made me stupid and scared at the same time.
Scared of what, however, I wasn't sure - 
at that point I was too dumb to know.

It didn't occur to me until after the dream.
I dreamt I was hanging out with King Charles II
while he was fiddling about in the palace laboratory,
poisoning himself with mercury and other happy chemicals.
It came to me - 
when I was a kid I was never afraid
of someone jabbing me with a pencil
and giving me lead poisoning.

And now I was - but why?
Butter?  Crap!
How many buts could a woodchuck but, if a...

Anyway, it really wasn't the penguins' fault.
They never meant me harm,
at least not any great harm.
And if it isn't great, then where is it?
Nowhere, I say.