A day at the zoo

I looked around the zoo cafeteria while I sipped my coffee. The coffee was actually nice, there was a decent depth of flavour to it and it hadn't been boiled or microwaved to death. I sighed, very quietly, to myself with pleasure, and watched the small queue snake its way through the pasta bakes and packaged sandwich chillers to the till.
Terry sat down opposite me with a much louder sigh and a styrofoam cup of instant coffee he'd coaxed out of a vending machine. He looked at me, and his usually sad face looked slightly more miserable than normal.
"The penguins are loose," he said, staring into his little styrofoam cup. "They're all over the zoo."
"How did that happen then?"
"I don't know, but I bet it's got something to do with mum."
"What's got something to do with me?" Terry's mum bustled up holding a plastic cafeteria tray in both hands. On the tray was a china cup of tea, a small metal jug of milk and a baby penguin.
"That's a penguin, Mrs. Mossbrook," I said, pointing at it.
"Yes dear, it is. And it's outrageous too, they didn't have a button for it on the cash register so they said they couldn't let me have it! I said, 'Well, if you've not got a button for it then it must be free.' They didn't like that one bit."
"You're not going to eat it, are you mum?" Terry looked horrified.
"Of course not, but I thought it'd make a nice souvenir from the zoo. We can put it in the bath to begin with, and then set the paddling pool up outside and put it in there eventually. It's only one little penguin after all, and I believe it'll make a good little guard-dog."
"I thought penguins prefer cold climates?" I said, almost as though I were talking to myself. I knew better than to upset Terry's mum.
"We'll use ice water for the swimming pool, dear, don't you worry about that. And I think Gladys at the WI has some contacts in the fishmongers, so I can probably get the fish quite cheap too."
Terry had reached over and was stroking the penguin with a far-away look in his eyes.
"See?" said Terry's mum to me. "It'll be good for him to have a pet. He's been moping around ever since we lost that exchange student."
"Er... lost?" I said, not knowing what to think.
"Yes, he passed away quite unexpectedly. A great shame, and I don't know how Terry's going to tell the student's mother. Especially since she doesn't speak any English."
"Right, right you are Mrs. Mossbrook," I said sitting back and wondering for the first time if I'd been blind to all these machinations when Terry and I were just kids.
"It's quite alright dear, now be a love and go and close the cafeteria doors."
I looked at her quizzically.
"There are penguins everywhere," she said. "I let the tigers out to clean them up."

Import, Export III

Business is probably doing well at the moment, but I'm finding it hard to tell. I came into a shipment of terrapins about a week back, none of which were expected to survive more than a month or so. Marketing first suggested we sell them as disposable pets, but the last time I had a run in with the RSPCA I discovered that they have a paramilitary branch. I can still remember being pursued across moorland by two very angry Doberman Pinschers and a poodle with a remotely detonated bomb strapped to its chest. So I nixed that idea.
Their next idea was a good one though; we're selling them as instant turtle soup. You pop the top on the can that hold them, pour in boiling water and use a hand-held mixer to whizz the soup up, then drink it. We've had to shell the terrapins, obviously, but the shells make reasonably good casings for splinter grenades, and there's still a market for small explosives.

The problem is that my secretary succumbed to her cancer of the jaw two weeks ago, and I'm having trouble without her. The amount of paperwork that comes our way is mountainous, and a lot of it needs attention to make sure that the right set of carefully reconstructed documents is sent back with it. Send out the wrong set, and there's a whole world of people who need persuading to look the other way again. And I can't cope with it anymore, I just don't do paperwork well.

I've gone through five replacements for her in one week, and none of them have been up to the job. The first one let the clockwork penguin out of the locked safe and it waddled to the middle of the goods yard and stood their ticking to itself again until I sent a couple of the explosives lads out to recapture it. That thing gives me the creeps. I locked the new guy in the safe with the penguin, to see if that casts any light on the enigma.
The second one somehow managed to staple himself to the photocopier half-way through his first morning. The third one decided to inventory the warehouse and we found him deliquescing near the holding pens we use when we're sending giraffes out.
The fourth one is actually the second one again -- I unstapled him and performed a quick'n'brutal lobotomy to see if we could curb curiosity without damaging too much higher-brain function. For a few hours everything seemed to be going well; he was more of a mouth-breather than before, but at least the email was shifting and the postsacks were starting to empty. Then we found him stapled to the photocopier again. This time I left him there for anyone who wants him.
The fifth one tried emailing copies of everything to the local tax office (which thankfully still hasn't recovered from the EMP pulse). The mail server spotted the unauthorised email address and electrified the keyboard. The office smells pleasantly of roasted pork.

So I'm missing a secretary, the paperwork is mounting up, and my stress levels are through the roof. I have had a bit of a brainwave though, about how I might be able to get my old secretary back. I shall need to do some planning.