January Boy, Epilogue

January Boy, Epilogue

Setting: The Penguin Band’s Igloo
Date: August 15th, 2013
Time: 9:42 AM PST

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“Petey, c’mon! It doesn’t take three years to get ready!”
Franky grinned. “Calm down, Billy, the reporter won’t be here for another twenty minutes…”
G-Billy rolled his eyes. “I know. It’s like ever since he came out, he’s taken even longer to get ready.”
“No, that’s just you.” Stompin’ Bob lifted his coffee mug. “Trust me, he’s always taken this long.”
“The worst was the EIMAs…” Franky muttered.
“True that.” Billy clapped his flippers together. “Preach it, Franky, preach it real good.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Yeah, maybe. But weird is cool. So ha. I win.”

It was a normal day in the lives of the members of the Penguin Band. Summer was coming to a quick end, but it had been a good summer for all four of them, despite the fact that they hadn’t been able to attend a music party this year. There were things to make up for it… their new songs that had been released, the success of the songs, and one of the best days of Franky’s life… in the beginning of the summer, he had finally gotten married. It felt like it had been much shorter since the day than it actually had been; in reality, it had been two months, but he felt like it was just yesterday. He didn’t want to believe that he was growing up that fast, even while getting married was a huge milestone and he was very happy. He would be 23 in January. Many years had gone by, and they had gone by too fast. He was grateful to be away from the life he had led before joining the Penguin Band, however. He had started going the night of May 26th, 2006, and every day, he picked up speed. Most importantly, however, he had never looked back.
Today, they would be doing an interview for the Club Penguin Times. A reporter was scheduled to show up at their igloo at ten AM. Petey K was still in his room getting ready, but he, Stompin’ Bob, and G-Billy were sitting around the kitchen table.
“What if they ask me about Cadence?” Franky abruptly said, leaning forward.
“What do you mean?” Billy replied.
“Well, the.. the paparazzi.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if one reporter counts as paparazzi, though.”
“I think you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, the interview is supposed to be about new music, not… our personal lives.” Stomp paused for awhile, his gray eyes darting around. “Actually, I don’t know if that’s true.”
“Whatever.” Franky shrugged, then stood up and walked over to the counter, where a pan of warm cinnamon rolls was sitting, already half-empty. “If I eat another one of these, am I a bad penguin?”
“Follow your heart, Franky.” G-Billy grinned.
“My heart says that I want another one.” He used the spatula to take one out and put it on a paper plate, then waddled to the table again and took his seat. “These things are amazing.”
“You’re welcome.” Billy crossed his flippers. “Petey, c’mon!”
“Damn, dude, just let him take his time,” Stomp muttered.
Just then, the door from the living-room opened and out stepped Petey K, with an annoyed expression on his face and a sparkly silver beanie on his head. “Billy, when will you learn?” he asked, raising one flipper and leaning against the doorframe. “Beauty takes time.”
“Oh, God.” Stomp buried his face in his flippers.
“My thoughts exactly,” Billy said.
Franky laughed softly.
Petey took his seat next to Billy, then took the beanie off. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear this,” he said, making a face. “It might be too fabulous for them.”
“Someone help me.” Billy frowned.
“You know you love me.” He glanced at Franky, who had just started to dig into his second cinnamon roll. “Someone’s hungry.”
“They’re good!” Franky lifted one flipper in defense of himself.
“The secret is out. Franky is in love with the cinnamon roll.”
“Not Cadence,” Billy added. “Just the cinnamon roll.”
Franky frowned and swallowed. “What do you mean? I love Cad--”
Stompin’ Bob put both flippers through his brown hair and closed his eyes. “Franky.”
“What?”
“You are the worst penguin I have ever met at understanding sarcasm.”
“Oh.” He went red and glanced at his plate, then tore another piece off of the cinnamon roll and stuck it in his beak.
Petey put the beanie on his head again. “Wow, I look gorgeous.”
Billy put his flipper on the back of his neck. “We love you, Petey.”
“No, no,” Stomp leaned forward. “You love Petey. Franky and I just tolerate him.”
“I don’t not like you, Petey,” Franky said.
Petey K grinned. “It’s okay, Stomp, I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I said I tolerate you. What I do hate is that hat.”
“It’s called a beanie, you hater.”
“I’m not a hater.”
“Actually, you’re the biggest hater I’ve ever met.”
Stomp crossed his flippers and scowled.
There was a knock at the door.
“Okay, gentlemen,” G-Billy said, suddenly jumping up and holding both of his flippers out like a conductor. “Civilized faces. We’re a nice normal group of penguins. We have never finished off a whole barrel of cream by ourselves or jumped off the Lighthouse into the ocean at midnight. I repeat. We are a nice normal group of penguins.”
“Right.” Petey fixed his beanie. “We’re normal.”
“We’re civilized.” Franky turned his sweatshirt’s hood so it wasn’t inside-out.
“We’re weird,” Stomp remarked softly.
“Shh. They can’t know,” Billy said to Stomp, then turned and waddled over to the door.

When he opened it, Franky couldn’t see the reporter from where he was sitting. He finished off the last of his cinnamon roll as the reporter exchanged a quick conversation with Billy.
“Hi,” said the penguin at the door. It was a guy.
“Hey there!” Billy grinned. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “I’m Joseph. Club Penguin Times. Well, I guess you knew that because we’re the only newspaper on the island…”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Billy replied. They shook flippers. “I’m G-Billy. Uhh… Penguin Band.”
Joseph laughed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Come in, come in.” He held the door all the way open, and Joseph came inside. He had light blue feathers and neat brown hair, and was wearing a brown trench coat, as Franky had observed most reporters do.
He turned to all of them. “Hello, Penguin Band.”
“Greetings!” Petey K lifted both of his flippers. “Come and sit.”
He widened his eyes. “Wow, that is one… bright hat.”
“I know.” He hung his head. “Too much?”
“I don’t judge.”
“Good.”

Joseph took his seat at the table as Franky was awkwardly chewing on his cinnamon roll. He looked down to prevent grossing him out.
Above him, more introductions occurred. “You can call me Stomp.” The two of them shook flippers over the table.
Franky swallowed and quickly lifted his head. “Hi, I’m--”
He trailed off as he looked at Joseph more closely. No…
The igloo fell dead silent. Franky knew those freckles and that face-- and he knew exactly where he knew them from.
Joseph was speechless as well… he could have recognized Franky’s huge black eyes anywhere.
“Joey?”
“...Franky?”

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The end.