Prolouge: te are entering a wondrous world, outside our own world, taking in it's claims da weird phenomena. Throught the pit of man's fears, and the summit, of his knowledge. This "other world" is one that causes the fall of empires, society, and the deepest of courage, the place I speak of is indeed. The Twilight Zone. -Rod Serling.
The anno is 1962, in a beautiful stretch of prairie in Omaha, Nebraska, a happy community of farmers, birra mongers, and the occassional middle class. This community thrived, until, a monster came to town. He would send anything he was displeased with to an area called 'the mais field' which happens to border the Twilight Zone, here are the people living here. Skipper, an able-bodied farmer, worked as a veteran in World War 2, forced to stay happy because of the monster's seduction. Kowalski, the constantly smiling pinguino at the porch, he used to study science and technologies, but they were banished da the monster, driven away. Rico, formerly a talkative penguin, until the monster forced him to work in 'the mais field' for days, he is now mute, never speaking again. And of course many other residents, but I forgot, the monster. Private, the monster, don't be fooled da his innocent looks, once those deep, saphire blue, eyes stare at you, think happy thoughts, o you'll regret it.
------------------------------------------------------
Kowalski was sitting at the front stoop, where it would connect to the porch, he smiled, as he always does every day. 'Hey Private, whatcha making over there?' asked Kowalski. Silence, Private continued working in macabre fashion, smiling enigmatically. 'Uhh... Hello? What's that you're making Private?' asked Kowalski again. Hesitating, he finally spoke. 'I'm making an undead gopher 'Walski,' detto Private, calmly. Walski, thought Kowalski, his usual nickname, he was so sick of it, disgusted, remembering being turned into a brick bacheca due to Private's curse, but he couldn't think that way, o he'd end up like Rico, mute, and despaired. 'Well, it's a good gopher you're making there Private, a very good one indeed!!' shouted Kowalski. Private smiled, proud for himself. 'I'm getting sick of this gopher, DIE GOPHA!!' yelled Private, in his squeaky accent. The squirming Gopher fell limp. Dead.... Thought Kowalski. 'Well Private, it's a good thing te killed that ugly little gopher!!' yelled Kowalski cheerfully. 'You can tell Skippah what a good life te two give for me,' detto Private, smiling peachy. 'I will Private, but we both gotta get inside, there's a heatwave coming in the west,' replied Kowalski. 'Oh, all righty then 'Walski, I'll go,' detto Private. When the sky started to boil, they went inside, panting and sputtering.
----------------------------------------------------------
'Private's very talented Skipper, he actually made a gopher die, revive, then die again, isn't that wonderful?' asked Kowalski. 'Of course it is, like he did with those farm pigs, tell us what te did with em again Private?' asked Skipper. 'I turned them into monstas Skippah,' detto Private. 'Very good monsters too Private!!' yelled Skipper encouraginly. 'Isn't today Julien's birthday Skipper?' asked Kowalski. 'Oh yeah!! I almost forgot!! We can completely arrange the party, and include Private's Musica songs there too,' detto Skipper. Then, Private began shuffling to the window, frowning at the yard successivo door. 'Mort won't shut up!! He's too loud, I hate his stupid little tail, I have to send him away,' detto Private. Mort was laughing and giggling, until suddenly, he caught fire, screamed, and disappeared. 'Serves him right too.....ermmm... He deserved it,' detto Skipper, gulping. 'Now, we better set up his party, and I'll be pleased,' detto Private. 'Right away then Private!!' replied Kowalski. 'It bettah have good thoughts in it Skippah, don't displease me again!!' yelled Private. 'Julien's party should start at 5:30pm today then sir,' replied Skipper.
--------------------------------------------------------------
At the time of Julien's party, almost all people in the town of Omaha had gathered to the small farmhouse to have a free giorno in the party. 'So we're all here to gather at a special, secondo special to Private's birthday, let's give a big hand, o flipper, o whatever appendages te have, to Julien!!' cheered Kowalski. When everyone cheered, the cake was cut up, and served to everyone, with Private getting two-thirds of the cake for himself. Rico sat at the piano, waiting for Julien o Private to count him on. 'How about I drink these birra penguin? One o three more!!' yelled Julien. 'Not now Julien, te don't want to displease Private on your day...' whispered Marlene. 'But it's my birthday te silly otter!!' exclaimed Julien, grabbing another bottle of beer. 'Alright Rico, will te play a song for us? A good song?' asked Private, fluttering his eyes innocently, begging. 'Uh huh!!' cheered Rico, flipping his book to another song, he tapped his toes to get the beat, and began to play. Rico played with the most effort he could to play the song, oftentimes switching his left and right feet to tap to the music's beat. Swinging his flippers across the keyboard of the Pianoforte around to get the exact right notes. When he finished, everyone clapped, even the gorillas were crying from the beauty of the music.
-------------------------------------------------------------
'That was very good Rico!! Very good indeed!!' aplauded Kowalski. 'Very excellent vabrado on the measures 5 and 34,' commentato Skipper. 'That was più brilliant than the time a Londra bus ripped off it's roof on a low bridge!! Can te play one più Rico?' asked Private. Rico nodded, and wiggled around in his sede, sedile to get comfortable. He sighed, and flipped the book to another song, 'Capriol Suite, Verse 2: Le petite Le petite' that was the name. He tapped his toes again, and began to play, but when he reached the middle of the song, he began to lose focus, something was distracting him, soon, he stopped tapping his toes, and pulled his flippers off the keys. Julien was drunk, Canto in a retarded voice 'Amazing Grace' o was it 'Happy Birthday'? 'Julien stop it already fucktard!!' yelled Marlene. 'No cursing Marslene!!' yelled Private. Marslene, the nickname Marlene got when she was sent to mars as punishment. 'Stop singing!! He's trying to play a good song!!' yelled Private. 'Why does he have a stupid voice? He deserves to leave,' detto Julien drunkly. 'That's it!! Talk about my accent again, and I'll send te to the deepest part of the cornfield!!' yelled Private menacingly, Continue playing please.' Then Rico, tapped his foot again, and started to play it correctly, until at the last 4 minutes, a loud laugh came from Julien. 'Hahahahaha!! pinguino chubby!! pinguino chubby!! Poot!! I farted myself pinguino chubby!!' yelled Julien, dancing around. 'You are a bad man!! A VERY, BAD MAN!!!' yelled Private, then everyone either gasped as Julien was turned to a Jack-in-the-box, o looked away. 'There, now I send him to where he deserves!!' cried out Private. Then, Julien vanished, without a trace. When Rico finally played again, the party guests left, never returning, now Julien lies in the deepest part of the frontier of a wondrously torturous element, The Twilight Zone.