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Penelope the penguin lived in a chilly, remote landscape where all the other penguins were dedicated to fishing, squabbling, and staring blankly into the distance. Penelope, however, harbored a single, warm-weather dream: she wanted to have a permanent, indoor picnic.

She didn't want the outdoors, the cold, or the fish. She wanted checkered blankets, tiny sandwiches, and a pleasant temperature.

Penelope found the perfect spot: a large, empty, abandoned storage container that had washed ashore. It was surprisingly well insulated.

She spent weeks collecting materials. She dragged in a piece of red and white vinyl—a perfect checkered tablecloth. She used large, round pebbles as plates, and she filled old soda cans with fresh water, claiming it was "Arctic Fruit Punch."

The problem was the food. The other penguins only had fish, which was not picnic fare.

Penelope approached an enormous, suspicious-looking walrus named Winston. Winston was a master food hoarder. "Winston," Penelope asked politely, "can you spare any tiny, square sandwiches?"

Winston grunted, his whiskers twitching. "I hoard fish, kid. Why would I hoard sandwiches?"

"Because," Penelope reasoned, "if you eat fish inside my cozy, permanent picnic, you will ruin the ambience! Think of the smell!"

Winston, who secretly worried about the smell of his hoard, considered this. He didn't have sandwiches, but he did have a giant stash of dried kelp squares.

He gave Penelope a pile of them. Penelope took the kelp squares, carefully spread a tiny bit of melted snow over them, and declared them "Seaweed and Snow Sandwiches." Perfect!

She invited Winston to her grand opening. Winston squeezed into the shipping container, found a spot on the vinyl tablecloth, and accepted a kelp square.

"Quite civilized," Winston mumbled, surprisingly enjoying the kelp and the lack of fish smell. "A bit warm in here."

Penelope poured him some "Arctic Fruit Punch." The permanent picnic was a huge success. The other penguins watched through the window, confused but slightly intrigued, especially when they saw Winston—the grumpiest walrus in the region—happily chewing on a seaweed square. Penelope knew she had found her true calling: making cold, stinky creatures happy in a perfectly warm, fish-free environment.