It was an unusually chilly night in June. It was the 8th of June to be exact. Rain was pouring down in torrents, showering the abandonned trailer. The reflection of headlights on an occasional passing vehicle of a flashlight danced along the tin roof. A pinguïn darted quickly across the gravel road, his body slicked and shiny from the pounding rain. He hurried to the trailer, ducking beneath it and crawling down underneath. He slunk a short ways before thrusting himself up through a hatch in the floor above him. He found himself in a small, warm kitchen. He stood up, slicking the rainwater off his flat-topped head. Light brown eyes glanced around the room, falling on a pinguïn with familiar features. The pinguïn stood up and walked up to the massive, buff, pinguïn who had just entered. "It's about time u got here Frank. Mariana just about proved she can lay a danged egg without you." he hissed. Frank snarled at him, moving him aside with a muscular, bulky flipper. He strode into the living room where a female with calm sapphire eyes looked up at him from where she lay on the sofa, "Frankie," she sighed, "It's..good to see you". Frank knelt beside her, taking her gentle flipper in his strong, large ones. "It's good to see u too love." he replied, a smile rising on his battle-scarred face. Mariana blushed, "Frankie," she zei in matter-of-factly, "You have a son". Frankie's brow arched. 'Another one?' he thought. He looked over his shoulder as the tall, skinny pinguïn who had met him at the door walked in, a blue-blanketted bundle in his flippers. The pinguïn paused, looking hesitantly up at Frank. Frank stuttered, "W-well.....lets have a look at him then!" he urged impatiently. The pinguïn continued to hesitate. "What is it Hawthorn? Is there something wrong with him?! What the heck is going on here?!" Frank snapped. "Frank.." Mariana zei in a scolding voice, resting her flipper on his back. Frank shoved her off. Hawthorn replied, "He was a hatchbirth," Frank's eyes grew wide. Hatchbirth was when a chick hatched while in lay. It was often a sigh of weakness in the chick. Hawthorn went on, "We did some emergency surgery on him and-" Frank snatched the bundle out of Hawthorn's flippers. "Please!" Hawthorn exclaimed, "Be careful!" Frank pulled the away the blanket, revealing a sleeping chick. The down feathers on the chick's belly were shaved away, revealing a stitched scar. All the same the chick looked content. He was small, hardly larger than a jar of 'Jiff' pinda butter. Frank sighed in emotions no one could reveal. Frank was a mystery to everyone and everything. Now he gazed down at his seconde son. Was this kid really worth all the trouble?- Not to mention the huge doctor bill he'd have to pay. Worst come to worst, this tiny chick would be dead with in a week. Suddenly the chick opened it's eyes. Two bright eyes of sapphire blue gazed up at Frank. For what seemed like forever, father and son simply gazed into each other's eyes. Mariana whispered, "He's the spitting image of you, only..much smaller.." Frank groaned, thrusting the chick into her flippers. The chick whimpered softly. "Frank!" Mariana scolded, "This is your son!" Frank grunted, "That's where you're wrong Mariana." he strode towards the hatch, "He's your son". With that he left. Mariana looked down at the chick, into his innocent, unknowing eyes. She breathed a heavy sigh, "Alexander..I like that name don't u sweetie?" she asked, rocking the tiny chick gently. The chick peeped a giggle. Mariana smiled, "That's my little trooper.." She rocked him lullingly, "That's my little skipper".