Then the Rain Came Down

His name was Roald. He was a penguin.

Every now and then, he would send me a couch through the mail, or maybe an awesome striped T-shirt, or maybe even a riveting NES game. I'd see him whenever I was walking from the beach to cash in on some shells, and we'd talk and have a few laughs. His house, which I'd enter unannounced sometimes, was like a McDonald's ball pit -- a child's dream come true. Occasionally, I would take the time to compose a rockin' letter to him, dictating how he was so cool and that I loved his house and Clu Clu Land was kinda boring, but thanks for sending it to me anyway! He'd respond by saying that he had no idea what I was talking about, that my grammar and spelling were atrocious, and he couldn't understand a word I said. But he was grateful for the letter! That much he was sure of.

Yes, Roald the Penguin and I were friends to the bitter end, even if he mistook my careful and meticulous letter-writing skills for pure rubbish. He'd cluck, "Hey, man, let's be buddies forever, deal?" I'd nod, hell yes, man, let's.

And then he moved away.

Through my TV speakers, the piano was playing the bitter sweet rain song, intensifying my sense of sheer sadness when I discovered Roald's house had completely vanished from my town of Aniville. All that was left was a patch of bare earth. I felt...empty inside. Not even furiously mashing the big green A button to twirl my umbrella made me feel better. My best friend, a nerdy penguin with amazing fashion sense, was gone, leaving no evidence as to why he'd commit such a heinous crime against our friendship of trust.

So I confided in Fang the Wolf about my emptiness, that with Roald gone, a massive void in my heart had appeared from nowhere, devouring all that I deemed happy in life. I rhetorically asked Fang, "Who am I going to talk to when times are bad? Who is going to send me tasteful items of furniture and incredible pieces of retro software? To whom am I going to give shells I found on the beach in hope that they would continue to send me said tasteful items of furniture and incredible pieces of retro software?

"No one," I said. "That's who."

Fang told me to shut the hell up and walked back into his house.

I got a letter from Roald in the mail later that day. He explained that he simply wanted to move on and see the world, that Aniville wasn't hip enough for him, dude, and that he hoped that this wouldn't leave a stain on the great white sheet of our everlasting friendship. Through teary eyes, I managed to murmur,

"No, Roald the Penguin, you'll be my best bud forever. I wish you only the best."

As the piano continued to play the rain song, I twirled my umbrella for the last time, spoke with my Gyroid, and never returned to the town of Aniville again.