( Author's note: I realize there are minor punctuation and capitalization errors. ignore those, and please concentrate on the story.)

“Curse you Parker the Platypus!” – A P.o.M fã fiction.
August 20th, 2011. Seaville Aqua Fun Park. Staten Island, New York.
Parker the platypus sighed in frustration and utter boredom as he rested his elbows on the stone ledge surrounding his habitat- if you could even call it /that/. Did these bozos /actually/ expect him to perform?
“Seaville Aqua Fun Park’s Trained Platypus : Percy!”, the sign above his habitat read. How this place stayed open after mixing up animals’ names is a mystery, on topo, início of the injustices of having him perform!
He was a trained agent! A mercenary! Not a performer! And he did NOT do tricks! Oh, and the /worst/ of all, they confused him with some other platypus! He hated being announced as “Percy” every single time. The name annoyed him.
His train of thought was interrupted por the so-called “trainers” dumping the sloppy mash of grubs and other “delicacies” they called platypus food.
He gulped down the meager rations greedily. Hey, it was better than starving!
This place was a dump, he thought miserably, an overpriced dump. But, he reasoned, it could be worse. He could be in the Hoboken Zoo now.
But how did these idiots expect him to flip through a ring of fire? What is he, a dolphin? Rings of fogo must be an obsession with these people, he noted. There was one in every habitat.
Here was the way it worked at Seaville. You were brought here and forced to do stupid and oftentimes dangerous stunts for overcharged tourists who came here snapping fotografias along with their screaming, popcorn- throwing brats. Then, after three or four grueling daily shows you were basically locked in your habitat for the night.
Or, at least, that’s how it seemed to be for him. He was perfectly miserable here. In truth, he was the most miserable one here. He envied those penguins who needed constant medical care and were unable to perform, much to management’s chagrin…what were their names again? Manfredi and Johnson? Something like that. Anyways, they seemed to like it here for all their inability to perform. Or was it their unwillingness? He had seen them practicing what appeared to be hand-to-hand combat with each other once before they both broke their flippers..again. And whoever taught them to fight knew what they were doing, and trained them well. He envied that they were actually able tostay as cheerful as possible under the circumstances, but they annoyed him immensely. He hated penguins! They always seemed to think they were better than him!
Man, he had way too much time to think.
He flipped into the water with a splash and swam around a bit, brooding. It was a wonder he didn’t go insane. He was wild with boredom, as fretful as an insomniac with the sleeping habits to match. His thoughts went from subject to subject.
Maybe he WAS crazy and just didn’t know it. /Do/ crazy people know they’re crazy? Maybe it was different for platypuses.
What a funny word.
Why “platypuses”? Why shouldn’t the plural be “platypi”? What possible use in the universe could there be for a mix of a duck, a castor and an otter? Why did they –
This was what he was talking about.
He needed an escape plan. But what would be the perfect plan? Who or what could provide him with the chance to escape?
…………………………………….
Before Parker had even realized he needed an escape plan, his opportunity for escape was currently being shipped from Coney Island to Seaville in a large wooden engradado, caixa on an overnight express train.
Dr. Blowhole stewed in his own anger the entire time, almost literally, because he needed to be watered down so he wouldn’t get sick on the trip. One of the only good things about his transfer was that his little sister, Doris would be there waiting for him.
He knew what awaiting him. It’s not as though he wasn’t used to performing the ring of fogo routine, it’s just that he was sick of his ruse as a happy and upbeat golfinho whose stage name was Flippy, and he longed for the dia he could finally shed that degrading disguise and rise to power, and flood the world, and-
Patience, Francis, he thought to himself, using his actual name. Only a few weeks mais and my plan will come to fruition.
Continuing his inner monolog, he thought that it was unusual how he hadn’t heard from his informant/partner, Hans por now. Probably, that kooky Danish arau, papagaio, puffin was too busy sharing his latest pastry recipe with his fellow animais in the Hoboken Zoo rather than helping me, like he’s supposed to, he thought disgustedly.
I suppose I’ll have to go through with the plan, with or without Hans, he considered. It will be difficult luring to Skipper to Shanghai on a solo mission to investigate Dim Sum bombs and wipe his arch foe’s memory clean and steal his secrets, and then pick off his team.
This plan, and the machine he’d use to wipe Skipper the penguin’s memory ; The Mind Jacker , and the machine he’d use to turn the rest of Skipper’s team into evil minions, the Diabloigizer, were all years in the making, and he was NOT about to let his plan fail this time!
Which reminded him, he needed to call his lagosta minions and remind them to test out the Diabloigizer and resume planning on Project: Bad Tidings ( his latest plot to flood the world por bringing the moon closer to earth).
That also reminded him. He needed to call Mother and tell her he wouldn’t be joining them for Thanksgiving this year.
His thoughts turned to Skipper, his greatest enemy. Curse him! M and his whole goody-two-shoes commando team! Skipper was the reason why he was going to all this trouble for what should have been a simple plan to flood and take over the world. Why, he even went so far as to be transferred to Seaville- a place Doris said he would hate, despite her being there- and leave behind his larger lab in his old habitat back at Coney Island just to have better connections to Skipper and his team. Maybe he would even find an accomplice while he was there.
But soon, he would be rid of Skipper, then he’d pick off the rest of his team, one por one. He thought of Kowalski, the know-it-all scientist and head strategist of the group. Tall, with an egg shaped head and the brains to match that euphemism, he was Skipper’s second-in-command, and was simply gaga for Doris. Then, there was Rico, the crazy one with the mohawk who was the weapons and demolition expert who mostly spoke with grunts, gestures and a few intelligible words. Then, he smiled maliciously as he thought of the littlest one, practically the baby of Team Penguin, whose name was Private. He was the most naïve, a sweet, cuddly little pear-shaped bird whose age was about the equivalent of that of a human teenager. He would enjoy destroying Private the most.
But worry soon replaced his plotting. Would the handlers at Seaville discover his technology, his lair and his lobsters? Or even if they never found out about his hidden agenda (which wasn’t likely at all), would they let him keep his mechanical eyepiece? It was different at coney Island, because after he’d had his accident, they knew he needed that so he wouldn’t be half blind in his right eye. Maybe they’d even take away his Segway!
No, he thought, they wouldn’t. He used his Segway out in the open unless there were humans around to catch him on it. If there were humans around, it would be hidden. He’d have to build a whole new lair under his new habitat. That thought made him grimace in annoyance.
And, oh dear, the cost of it all! He supposed he could cut corners here and there, perhaps lay off a few lobsters and sell a few of his unused inventions, but he thought they could manage it. The lobsters were loyal, quick and efficient workers.
Maybe the mechanical eyepiece would frighten the children, he thought. Good. He’d /want/ to instill fear in these pathetic humans. With his eyepiece, coupled with his sinister smile and all 12 feet of his height, he made an imposing and menacing figure on his Segway, or so he fancied.
Though the old him, the Francis that existed before he’d turned evil was still a part of him, as much as he hated it, and the old Francis was his disguise. He couldn’t believe he ever used to be that….ugh..cheerful. It was about 10 years atrás when he had his accident. A bad accident during his Ring of fogo routine scarred the right side of his face and messed up his vision, and the handlers at Coney Island had a waterproof, nearly unbreakable mechanical eyepiece made that was designed not to fall off his face. It was expensive, but it was worth it for their estrela attraction. He’d secretly added onto his eyepiece in later years, equipping it with a laser beam, and a button that could activate the autopilots on his Segway when he was on land, or his minisub when he was on the ocean. It was in those later years when he realized he wanted revenge on the very humans who had cared for him since birth. Though, they were also the ones who had humiliated him por forcing him to do those tricks in the first place. He grew mais and mais amargo, amarga and evil as the years went on, and about 5 years after the accident, he put his natural aptitude to science to use and decided to do something with all that hatred and try to put the human race in what he felt was its proper place and take over the Earth, flooding it so he could rule over a water filled domain. After teaching college courses over the internet and earning his doctorate, he had the resources to hire minions and build lairs in various strategic places all over the globe, and it was then that he met Skipper.
But there was still the problem of Doris. The Old Francis was the only side of him that she knew, and he’d have to act the part for her benefit. After all, he didn’t want to hurt his little sister. He still loved her, but the /last/ thing he needed was her tattling to Mother about him being a secret evil scientist and ruining his plan, for, as frightening as Blowhole thought he was, Mother was twice as frightening when she got into one of her states.
He would need help if his original Dim Sum bomb plan failed. He’d need a backup plan. Maybe it WAS a good thing Doris was at Seaville. She could help him and not even realize it! After all, she was his only connection to the Penguins. He hated to take advantage of his sister like that, but it was a necessary evil –pardon the pun.
In the meantime, he’d think about it when he arrived and settled in at Seaville. He could already feel the train stopping.
So it begins, he thought.
………………………………………….
Parker awoke the seguinte morning feeling as he always did-tired and overworked.
Today, he thought, will at least be a little different with Doris’ brother arriving soon (Doris told him the news last night).
Then after the novelty of a new face wore off, it was back to his usual routine of letting his mercenary skills atrophy into nothing, choking down the revolting food, flipping, trick performing, and wallowing in his own misery.
He saw some workers carry a large crate-presumably with Francis…at least he /thinks/ that’s what Doris said his name was.
He laughed as the men struggled to get the engradado, caixa and its inhabitant into the habitat.
The engradado, caixa was soon opened, and Francis was set in the nearly identical habitat seguinte to his. Great, he thought. He‘s seguinte to me. At least he wouldn’t get lonely, he shrugged.
“Hey!” he called over to his neighbor, when he noticed he was scowling a bit, staring at his surroundings. “New guy!”
“What?!” snapped the golfinho in annoyance. He’d been thinking of how best to hollow out and remodel his habitat to accommodate his lair when his new neighbor interrupted his train of thought.
Parker was confused. From what little he’d listened to of Doris’ babblings about her brother, he was cheerful and always happy. Why was he all of a sudden angry? Parker suspected something, but he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure he was right.
Blowhole saw confusion written on the monotreme’s face and quickly rearranged his own in what he hoped was a mais friendly expression.
“Hi there neighbor!”, he called cheerfully, :My name’s Francis, but you can call me Frankie, or use my stage name, Flippy!” I hope we’re going to be the best of friends!”
Parker narrowed his eyes. He was right. He knew an act when he saw one. His training had taught him /that/much. In a bored tone of voice, Parker said, “Drop the act, fish-face.” He paused to flick something off his tail.
Continuing, he said, “I know you’re faking the flight attendant perkiness.”
The golfinho scowled, and then his annoyance was replaced por panic. Was he really /that/ transparent? Would /everyone/ see through his disguise?
“Fine you little freak of nature!” he snapped, “You caught me!”
Smirking, Parker said, “I prefer to think of myself as Evolution’s grab bag. Now who are you really, ‘Flippy’?”, Parker asked, making air frases with his fingers when he said “Flippy”.
He basically spilled out his entire life story to Parker, who was growing mais and mais impressed with his new neighbor than ever.
Despite his admiration for Blowhole ( Blowhole told Parker that he called himself Doctor Blowhole because he was actually a doctor with a PhD in nanotechnology and genetic engineering, and because the name commanded mais respect than his first name.) he was unsure of what to say. All he could think of, “Wow….Doris must be blind for her not to see this side of you.”
Blowhole simply nodded. “Now,” he said, “what are your credentials?”
“My what?”
“Your background information” explained the golfinho impatiently, who was already thinking he could use this little freak of nature as an accomplice.
“I’m a trained mercenary. “, he said, “A bit of a hired gun, if you will. I’m skilled in hand-to-hand combat-or whatever kind of limbs you have- and I’m equipped with natural weapons.”
Parker displayed the poisonous barbs that every platypus has on the back of his foot. Venom could be injected at will, from the least powerful, which could knock you out for a while, to the most, which could probably kill you.
“Poison spurs.” He said, with a trace of pride in his natural endowments.
“Impressive!, Blowhole said, genuinely so. ,”And here I thought you were just a pretty face my little sister had fallen in amor with.”
“Doris has a crush on me?” Parker said, incredulously. Sure, she was pretty, but she was also too perky for his tastes, and frankly, incredibly annoying. He supposed that explained why she looked at him all doe-eyed so much.
“But, I need an accomplice for my latest evil plan, and I think you are exactly who I’m looking for.”
Blowhole then began to explain his backup plan that he just created of having Doris and parker encontro, data so he could be spy on the penguins right under their noses-…well, er…beaks, that is.
“Do we have a deal?” Blowhole asked after he was done.
“Well….”, Parker debated, I don’t come cheap. I always come with a price, and I /always/ get paid.’ He said with a raise of his right eyebrow.
“Will a thousand dollars do it?”
“Cash, or credit?”
“A check.”, said Blowhole.
They shook on it.
……………………………………………………….
The Hoboken Zoo, Hoboken, New Jersey, One dia prior.
The fighting was still going on between the biomechanical android clones of the Hoboken Zoo animals, and Team Penguin, versus their real life counterparts.
The penguins had accidentally landed in Hoboken when a fishing trip to Massachusetts turned into a nightmare when a hurricane blew them WAY off course.
The head zookeeper, Ms. Frances Alberta was just arrested for her activities in cloning each and every one of the zoo animals. She was a neat freak whose OCD was beyond the help of even the best of psychologists, and so she created a cloning system through the massage chairs the zoo had offered after she transformed it from a filthy dump, to a sparkling clean paradise for the animals. It read their DNA, and created a biomechanical android version of them, half clone, half cyborg.
Hans the puffin, Skipper’s friend-turned-archenemy after a scandal involving open faced sandwiches (No joke. There was a car chase, an explosion, and a sword fight using peixe between the two in Copenhagen’s Ministry of Open-Faced Sandwiches when Skipper was evidently sent there to create the ultimate sanduíche using two halves of an open faced one and claim it for America) that got them both banned from Denmark stood watching the scene with a small smile of amusement creeping up on his colorful beak.
It /was/ funny, watching the human police officers try to wrangle with the remaining robot doubles of Savio the boa, jiboia and Rhonda the walrus. They were heavily damaged, but still managed to put up an amazingly good fight.
He was wondering when he’d get his instructions from Dr. Mammal-Fish (Hans’ nickname for Blowhole). But he wasn’t too sure about wanting to hurt Skipper. But Hans /did/ owe him for getting him free from Hoboken, and besides, they /were/ still frenemies- or so the arau, papagaio, puffin fancied.
But maybe he would change his mind. Ja, Hans thought, perhaps I will change my mind when the plan is in action.
But it all depended on when Blowhole sent him his-
He dodged a flying kick from his robot doppelganger, who then crashed into the mural behind him, gushing oil, now completely destroyed.
-his instructions…..
How was he going to explain /this/ to Dr. Mammal-fish?
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
Blowhole’s Minisub/Evil lair. September 8th, 2011. Shanghai.
“Let me get this straight….” Said blowhole, trying /very/ hard to control his anger, “You couldn’t meet the deadline that I gave you /two weeks ago/ because you were hiding from the Peng-yoo-inator?” he meant “Penguinator”, a spoof on the cyborg movie, “The Terminator”, but insisted on saying ‘peng-yoo-in” instead of ‘Penguin” because it annoys Skipper.
“Pretty much, Ja.” Hans said in his German accent (he lived in Germany long enough to develop an accent, and moved back to Denmark, where he was born), nodding.
“I don’t know, Blowhole” said Parker, who was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, “It seems just crazy enough to be believable.”
“See?” said Hans, pointing to parker, “Mr. Duck-Beaver believes me!”
“For the last time,” snapped Parker, “I am /not/ ‘Mr. Duck-Beaver’! My name is Parker, so either get it right, or get lost!”
“Well fine!” Hans cried petulantly, crossing his wings and pouting.
“My plan is due to unfold tomorrow, and I can’t have two of my most important players bickering lke five-year-olds!” snapped Blowhole, shooting them a glare that would have frightened small children.
That shut them both up.
“Now let’s go capture us a peng-yoo-in!” said the dolphin, with a look of pure evil on his face.
………………………………………………………………………………
September 10th, 2011. Seaville.
“Blowhole’s been /what/?!”, shouted Parker, when one of Blowhole’s lagosta minions told him the news.
Blowhole’s plan had worked perfectly. Skipper’s memories were wiped clean, and he made his way to New York City to ambush the team in their habitat in the Central Park Zoo. But that’s where things got crazy.
Apparently, blowhole’s Diaboligizer, which was meant to hit the penguins and turn them evil accidentally hit an Mp3 player that belonged to one of the zoo animals. That wouldn’t have been a problem if it hadn’t had Kowalski’s experimental power cell inside it instead of a proper battery.
The Mp3 player grew to the size of a swimming pool, now equipped with the power of mind control, of all things, and it made half of New York City a musical rivaling Broadway.
/Then/, Blowhole’s Mind Jacker was used on /him/ after his improvised plan to take control of the city with the Mp3 player had failed. His memories were wiped clean.
But Parker had a bigger problem than not getting his paycheck. Blowhole was sent back to the nearest place that could house him, which, unfortunately was Coney Island!
Parker would have to get creative if he was going to get paid.
………………………………………………………………………………………..
September 15th, Seaville.
Doris was distraught, and Parker didn’t know how to react.
Francis was being brought back to Seaville later that week, but she was fearful for his safety. Here was his chance to get his plan going.
He’d improvised on Blowhole’s plan. He /was/ going to encontro, data Doris, then slyly suggest they get him out of Seaville to a seguro place that Parker knows. The only pergunta was, would she say yes?
…………………………………………………………………
Summer, 2012
They had been dating for nearly a ano now, and Parker was long past being bored with playing the part of a lovesick boyfriend. Doris was sweet, kind and caring, and parker liked her well enough, but he was anxious to get on with his plan. But she was annoying, too. And clingy. From what she told him, her last three boyfriends (a manatee, an octopus and a porpoise) were jerks and she dumped them, so she was eager to finally have someone that she really liked.
Parker, on the other hand, wrestled with his conscience about this. He decided that she was collateral damage, and if he hurt her, she’d get over it eventually.
In the months following Flippy’s return to Seaville, he’d slowly been regaining him memories. And through the familiar surroundings, his sister, and the job he loved, he was regaining those of the Old Francis, before he assumed the título of Dr. Blowhole. He was, for now, annoying, happy-go-lucky, will-hug-you-every-time-he-sees-you Flippy.
Technically speaking, this was “not good”.
It was time to start the seguinte phase of his plan. And so, he told Doris that Francis was secretly wishing he was free from Seaville. How he hated being here! And maybe his sweet little sister and her nice, handsome boyfriend could get him out of here. She was all too happy to agree.Doris /HATED/ Seaville. She was used to open spaces, like New York Harbor, where she and Francis had grown up. But whe she didn’t realize was that Francis was all too eager to perform for the humans, unlike what happened the first time. All she needed to do was pay a call to the penguins.
…………………………………………………………………………………….
A Floating Piece of Wreckage in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. July 23rd 2012.
That /stupid/ platypus! How many times must I tell him to stop jabbing me?! I /told/ him my checkbook was destroyed!, thought Blowhole angrily as Parker kept on jabbing him with his spurs.

After Parker’s plan to backstab them all and get Flippy get to one of Blowhole’s island lairs in the Pacific to get his memories back had failed, Blowhole was furious. But what went wrong?!
The penguins and Doris had awoken from Parker knocking them all out after revealing he was an agent of Blowhole’s. The seguinte day, they had escaped from Seaville and arrived at Blowhole’s lair to see his memory restored in a crazy fight that accidentally wiped most of the lobster’s and the penguins’ memories when Doris was pressing aleatório buttons on her brother’s spare Segway to try to stop him.
Blowhole’s latest plan was Project: Bad Tidings, in which he was to bring the moon closer to Earth to flood it.
But once the Penguin’s memories were restored, the fought back, and the raio, ray exploded, leaving them segundos to escape the island.
Luckily, everyone escaped unharmed.
Or maybe it was unlucky. Blowhole and Parker were stranded alone, and even if it was the Peng-yoo-ins, he would be grateful for any type of help. Especially if it meant getting this demented monotreme off of him!
Parker kept on insisting he had done his end of the deal, and that it was time to pay up. Parker glared at him, and for the first time in his life, Blowhole was actually scared of someone besides Mother.
Blowhole seethed with white-hot fury, but then remembered his mechanical eyepiece.
Pressing a button, a /beep-beep/ sounded, like a car alarm when you unlocked it.
Within seconds, his submarine had arrived. But just as Blowhole went to swim up to it to leave that little freak of nature to fend for himself, Parker climbed on topo, início of Blowhole and hopped in the submarine himself.
“What are you doing?!” cried Blowhole, “You can’t just leave me here!”
“Of course I can! I’m a villain…..duh! Besides, we both know you were going to do the same to me.”
Parker had him there, and he knew it.
“This piece of tin should be worth about a thousand dollars. What do you think?” smirked the platypus as he started to close the door.
“You can’t do this to me, I’m Dr. Blowhole! I’m-“ but the noise was cut off por Parker shutting the door completely.
Maybe he’d come back. Maybe he wouldn’t.
He heard Blowhole scream at the topo, início of his lungs, ”Curse you Parker the platypus! Curse you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
He snickered, a mischievous grin popping up on his face.
Yeah, he /totally/ wasn’t coming back.
THE END