At-chu

AN/Lame title. It was the best I could think of.

The energetic tune of the bugal tone that sounded at
exactly six thirty every morning sent three penguins
leaping up and out of bett in size order. Kowalski, Rico,
and Private all stood side Von side in erect posture.
They gazed strait on, Kowalski's expression solid and
serious though still half-awake, Rico, a solemn expression
on his scarred face all the same Du could see the phyco
fire in his antarctican eyes, Private, who was last in the order,
carefully wiped sleep from one lila, flieder eye, not breaking
his posture however. After waiting several seconds...