The Secret Recipe to Penguin's Fried Fish

There once was a duck who enjoyed eating food just a little too much. Sure, he quacked like a duck, looked like a duck, and strutted like a duck, but he just wasn't your normal yellow fowl.

His name was also Frank. History never told us why.

Frank grew up in a strange neighborhood. It was, of course, occupied exclusively by his yellow feathered friends. Thankfully. In that way, they were able to look down their bills at that dirty penguin neighborhood, where all the good ducks knew not to wander through.

Penguins can be incredibly snobby, especially if you forget to wear a suit to blend in.

But Frank didn't care about this forbidden area. Because Frank only cared about one thing above all else; food!

And as every duck whos every duck knows, penguins make the most fantastic tasting foods in the whole town. Even though their diet consisted of almost exclusively fish, they formed absolute miracles when it came to preparing them.

Some suspected a strong reason for this was their secret recipe for battering. Nearly every fish entre served by the penguins involved a slight variation of breadful battery goodness.

Frank constantly tried to figure out what the secret was. He never did. The penguins held their recipe close to heart and never dared tell other birds why their batter tasted so good. In truth, it was a simple mixture of eggs (from lizards, not birds, of course), sugar, and all-porpoise flour, which was in large supply as they lived beside the water.

I know what you're thinking, how could you possibly make flour out of dolphins? And you'd be right, that's a ridiculous concept.

This was flour made by dolphins, not from them! Sheesh.

And so, the dolphins would be employed by the penguins to make their name brand all-porpoise flour. The penguins would get their lizard eggs, some butter from beyond the village, add a nice little splitz of sugar, and their miracle batter would be formed.

Every penguin chef would have their own variation on it of course, but what kind of fancy penguin wouldn't?

And Frank loved them for it. But he hated the derision and the stares from the suited birds every time he dared wander into their hood to get his bill on those tasty breadcrumbed fish.

So he came up with a plan. Frank WOULD figure out how to make the batter for himself. He could then open up a duck restaurant, make his own battered fish fillets and sell them to his own yellow feathered friends!

Genius.

Now was the time for Frank to finally rise up from the bottom of the totem pole and gain the respect he knew he deserved.

The next day, at the quack of dawn, Frank set out to watch the penguin chefs making their morning dough. He snuck quietly over to the duck-side of the frozen local pond and dug a nice little hole down.

Since he had an incredible ability to hold his breath much longer than any of his other duck friends, he was able to traverse the entire pond completely submerged.

He reached the other side, slowly burrowed upwards in a duckly fashion, and poked his head out.

Blast! The head penguin chef saw him right away. Of course, his gargantuan yellow duck head was quite the contrast against the snowy white of the frozen pond. A tiny detail that was overlooked in Frank's genius plan.

"What do you have to say for yourself?!" Demanded the master penguin chef, who immediately suspected Frank of fowl-play.

"Quack."

Then the master penguin chef remembered, ducks can't speak, and he was relieved at his innocence. The Chef then calmed down and beckoned Frank over to one of the dining tables.

Frank happily obliged, feeling relieved he wasn't in trouble.

He plopped up on the table and waited a few minutes for the chef to finish making something. He then came out with the biggest, steamiest, fragrant bowl of battered and fried fish soup he'd ever seen!

He flapped his wings in an excited fashion.

"I don't know why I'm asking you this, but do you want anything with your soup today?"

"Quackers." Said Frank.

I guess he could talk after all.