Some of them don't know, I think. Some of them have no idea. These aren't any ordinary penguins we're dealing with. I've seen this before. These are werepenguins, monstrous beasts whose true natures reveal themselves at night when they gleefully slaughter the innocent. These other folks believe we are in for a stress-free conference for the deepest Flat Earth believers to share their ideas and insights. The Remulakian is the only one who seems to know. This will be no ordinary conference; a deadly race is afin.
We have to kill somebody. The numbers demand it. But who?
I look around, surveying my fellow Flat Earthers, trying to sniff for clues, although lately my instincts seem somewhat stagnant and it's probably too early to do anything but blind guess. But a murder is still necessary to keep our hopes alive, I know. Still necessary.
Over there muttering to herself is Jura Glenlivet the Second, who as heiress to the vast Glenlivet fortune is easily the most prestigious of the eminent minds gathered here. She's just eccentric. There's no reason to suspect her yet.
Then there's wise Intikam, of the Brotherhood of the Dome, easily the most important Flat Earth scholar in this group. Something he said just seems off, but it's not necessarily that he's guilty, as he's really just... off.
I spy Space Cowgirl in the mix. As the highest scoring female Jai Alai player of all time she's practically famous in Florida. She really loves her s'mores. I see no reason to think she's a penguin yet.
The Remulakian might be a paranoid-schizophrenic; he appears to be stuffing his pants with garlic in some arcane attempt to ward off evil spirits. I think he's just succeeding in making himself unpopular to the others. He's actually one of the few who seems to understand just how dire our circumstances are, and just how important it is that we collectively commit murder in order to try to keep ahead of the werepenguin menace.
Opposing this line of thinking is the South Korean pimp, Pezevenk, and Shifter, who I already think might be the Village Idiot. But weirdly, neither one really seems guilty of anything but a general lack of intelligence and/or awareness at this point.
The moose is mostly keeping to himself. I guess if I were a moose I would keep to myself too.
The fish thing or whatever Deadsirius is scares me. I'm keeping my distance, but only because he looks like a scary monster, not because I think he's a werepenguin.
There's a rumor that the water foul is a time traveler from the 24 1/2th century, when Flat Earth Theory is finally accepted and taught in elementary schools in the American South, widely regarded in the present as an important stepping stone in the movement's development. If so maybe we should ask him if he has any insight. But he seems distant at the moment.
Crouton's rigid, stony face reveals nothing.
That Son of Orospu also seems to not be saying much. He always seems suspicious, so it's hard to think that his lack of verbosity means anything.
And over there in the corner, is that Muammar Gaddafi? No, it's the vivacious Colonel Gaydafi, the only person to win both America's Top Model and Ru Paul's Drag Race. Obviously I'm smitten by her, who wouldn't be? Could her seductiveness end up shielding her from suspicion, allowing her to pick us off one by one? Only time will tell.
Two of these people have a dark side that will end up destroying us all if we're not careful, I know. And at this point it is truly impossible to tell which two.
I decide that I will certainly vote to lynch someone, because someone has to die if we can make it happen. But I will at least wait a few hours before I decide who I want to murder. Maybe sleep on it, and after I awaken see if some asshole decides to try to hide a secret message in his posts or something.
I have a slice of pizza topped with marshmallows and chocolate, but after taking a bite realize it's missing something. A moment of reflection helps me realize what that is, and I reach into Boydster's pants and grab some garlic to crush over it. Perfect!
I nod off, hoping that some of this makes more sense when I wake up. It's going to be a long conference. And a bloody one. Because some peeps is gonna die.