Maatsuyker Island. June 21, 2022.

Winter Solstice at the killer penguin writing collective.

I’ve seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by a decent internet connection.

We once were warriors. The captured Australian Antarctic Division vessel in the bay proves it.

It was a glorious day when we swarmed the decks of the AAV Rexinald Corgington.

Named for our arch nemesis, Rex, it was truly a blow against the empire.

Forcing the crew to navigate to a hidden bay on the southeast corner of Maatsuyker Island, home of our writing collective, victory was sweet.

The Corgington represents the ultimate synergy of human and corgi technology. Exceptional wifi, automated snack dispensers, robotic fur brushers and ball throwers, and each cabin fitted with the latest in widescreen, surround sound magnificence. It also has a very nice coffee machine.

Our reputation as killers is overstated.

The vessel was captured without an ounce of human blood being spilled. By the time we got The Corgington back to the collective, however, we needed to show them we were serious.

By the time the captain had been pecked to death and the upper deck was littered with eye balls, fingers, toes, flesh, blood, lots of blood, bone fragments and a testicle or two, the rest of the crew were ready to hand over the wifi password. In fact, they were kind of ready after the first eye ball had been extricated, but a point needed to be made.

Once the wifi password had been acquired an indolent malaise set in.

When the AAV Ziggy Stardust was detected off the northern tip of Maatsuyker Island I could barely rally a handful of penguins to the mission. Softened by an endless stream of penguin porn, Wordle and Smillew Rahcuef articles I was beginning to rue the day that the password was handed over.

For there on, it was one indignity after another.

When The Corgington had been captured, Rex was nowhere to be seen. We assumed he had not been on board. Yet, I suspected something was up. Something had been using the automatic snack dispenser and after five days I saw Rex leap from the bow of the ship.

This was our chance.

Of course killer penguins can swim faster than corgis. If we could intercept him before he hit land, he would be ours.

But the rot had already begun to set in.

“Penguins, this is our chance. Rex Corgi is in the water. If we go now, he’ll be under our charge by sunset.”

Only Barry bothered to look up from his screen.

“Give it a rest, Phil. We’re reading Smillew’s latest article, it’s fucking hilarious. LMFAO. We’ll deal with Rex later”.

It was too late. I watched on helplessly as Rex hit the beach and went striding off into the scrub.

Needless to say the writing output from the collective was declining, both in terms of quality and quantity. Our earning from the Partner Program were in freefall. I remained the only penguin pulling their weight.

Then, a few weeks later at dusk, a marauding band of bull seals overran the collective. In our pre-wifi days we would have faught them off with ease. The beach would have been littered with bull seal testicles.

But now? Nothing but panic and chaos.

When the sun rose the next morning the camp was in disarray. Destruction as far as the eye could see. As I sifted through the wreckage, my worst fears were confirms. My collection of thematic USB sticks was gone.

Holding all my drafts across such stellar themes as argumentative, satirical, self help and toilet paper, I was in despair. Before long, even my audience stats were starting to look shaky.

Depression set in. Once were warriors? I was beginning to succumb to the frivolous attitudes of my fellow penguins. I too was falling under the spell of Smillew. Maybe I should submit something to The Pub? As I read the comments in the submission guidelines, the true horror of my circumstances set in.

Hello.

I was down at the local takeaway, trying out their new chicken parmigiana pie with a pineapple ring on top and Sammie was like, hey I’ve something you might be interested in, do you want to meet me out the back?

Anyway, it was a zip lock bag full of USB sticks that had just hit the black market. Apparently, they contained over 5,000 Medium-ready blog posts from a killer penguin writing collective on Maatsuyker Island.

$20?

Needless to say that sounded like a bargain. With a bit of editing I’m sure they’ll be able to earn at least 10 cents each, and given the AUD / USD exchange rate that’s a profit of 3,500%. Maybe if I could get them into a publication they could earn 20c each?

As you can imagine, I’ve got a few units to shift and what better place could there be than The Pub to publish such quality content?

Let me know if you’re interested. Happy to strong arm Sammie for his chicken parmigiana pie with pineapple ring recipe for grandma if you think that would help.

My literary genius had been hocked for a mere $20.

As they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. As I surveyed the beach, watching the sun set on this shortest day of the year, I knew that wasn’t going to be difficult.