The train cart was pretty nice. Our protagonist had seen better train carts, but he's not the type to complain about a slight lack of luxury. I suppose now would be a good time to introduce the protagonist. Or I could continue about the train cart for no reason. Yes, that seems more like my style. The train cart had an odd colored wall paper. It was odd merely because I can't quite describe it. I want to say pink, and yet that would give the impression that it is cutesy when it isn't. I guess I could say it was pinkish brownish old looking color. That will have to do. The cart was quite spacious and had plenty of room for baggage, sitting, sleeping (if the journey called for it), and plenty of other things that I could bore you with, but have decided not to.
Anyways on to our protagonist, whom I'm just sure you're dying to meet. Or else you should be. He's a real swell fellow. Intelligent, witty, bold, daring, and courageous. Reminds me of me. Because it is me.
Just kidding, I wouldn't do that. I'm just stalling for more time, because I'm unsure how to approach the actual introducing of the protagonist. Well, I suppose I could just say his name and let you fill in the blanks, but I feel this story would lose some credibility as an actual story if I did that seeing as how my protagonist is a penguin. Well, kind of. He's more of a penguin/man. His name is Penguin Holmes.
Mr. Holmes looked out at the landscape flashing past the train and let out a tired sigh as the green in the grass and leaves took on an unreal neon tinge and the clouds seemed to begin to radiate happiness. Holmes rolled the window blind down and sat back in his chair. He despised Unicornicopia.
Alright, now I know I've lost most if not all credibility seeing as how my protagonist is a penguin parody of Sherlock Holmes and the setting is "Unicornicopia", but I beg you to just stop reading here, because it just gets worse.
Unicornicopia is, simply, the land of Unicorns and was and always has been happily perfect and completely perfectly happy, if you were in to that sort of thing. Penguin Holmes was not. Sure, he liked being happy like the rest of us, just something about the sing-songy manufactured happy that Unicornicopia exuded didn’t appeal to him.
Not that Unicornicopia actually manufactured happiness, it was more a trait of the land. Nobody really knows which came first, the unicorns, or the inherent happiness of the land. But nobody questioned that the two were made for each other. Unicorns are the most trusting and good natured sentient beings in existence, and that goes along way with the campy feel the land of Unicornicopia inexplicably generated.
"This was a mistake," he said to no one in particular.
"What was?" asked a familiar voice from behind the sliding door of the train cart. The door opened and in stepped a Walrus. Walrus Watson (I cannot apologize enough to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle).
"Taking a job without any details in the worst place on Earth," said Holmes as he shifted his position to make room for Watson to sit across from him.
Watson, being a walrus, was a rather large fellow. Had this been a regular story with actual people I would say that his heftiness was due to a glandular problem. This being a semi-parody of Sherlock Holmes with a Penguin agenda, I can only say that Watson’s weight was a species problem. Actually, had he stayed in his home town of Walrilla he would be considered perfectly normal, if not a little on the small side.
"Oh, come now," Watson said while settling in to his seat, "Unicornicopia isn't that bad"
Holmes rolled up the window blind and in the distance a rather large amount of trees were dancing to a song that was inaudible over the train's own grumblings (that also seemed to be picking up a musical quality).
"A little dancing never hurt anyone," Watson said, trying to be helpful.
"Yeah, well tell that to Achilles..."
"...What?"
"Huh? I don't know. I can't concentrate with that damn sun smiling at me."
And sure enough the sun now had a face and was looking down on all of the earth with a giant grin, as if to say, “Gee, what a great day. I’m shining, the Earth is spinning, the trees are dancing. Everything’s going to be alright from here on out.”
Holmes violently pulled the shade down again and was greatly displeased with the fact that it was completely transparent.
“Oh for the love of- …When we get off this train, we're going straight to Ms. Equuleus' house, solving whatever little mystery she has, and getting the hell out of here," Holmes said as he sank back down into his seat.
"Alright," Watson said, "But I guess I should tell you that we still have 4 hours before we reach Unicornicopia's train station.
"Well then you'll have to wake me up when we get there," Holmes said and rested his head on his chest.
Watson got up and went to the dining cart. The train whistle blew out a verse of “The Sun Will Come Out (Tomorrow)”. Holmes, without raising his head or opening his eyes, raised a single eyebrow (or the penguin equivalent to an eyebrow) and muttered, "Bloody unicorns".
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