Okay, Rico's got something.
Nice and easy, Rico.
Remember, the condiments are more scared of you than you are of them.
I got it, yes!
Chopped onions!
Onion, Skipper?
No, thanks.
I'm after the big catch.
The elusive foolish sauerkraut.
Hello, sauerkraut.
Whoa, big fella.
Skipper!
You win this round, sauerkraut.
Are you hurt?
Sweet naive, Private
I wouldn't be where I am today if I didn't know how to take a fall.
Well, that was a lucky brea... Broken, broken, broken!
What? This? It's just a sprain.
Skipper, I don't think that's just a... sprain.
You need to see the doctor.
Doctor? That needle-sticking demon?
No, thank you.
But Skipper, look at it.
Wings don't bend that way.
Maybe I'm double-jointed.
That makes sense.
Great! Then we won't have to miss our volleyball game.
Coming your way, Skipper.
All right then, Skipper?
Double-jointed.
Great! Then we won't have to miss the arm-wrestling tournament.
Hooray for me!
For the love of... That wasn't even an arm.
Skipper, isn't your double-jointed wing turning a little swolleny?
It's nothing.
Great! Then we won't have to miss high-five practice!
Oh yes.
Okay, that's why we need practice.
Aw, look at that wing.
How long have you?..
Argh, it's got to be infected.
Infected?
Well, it's definitely broken.
Now don't worry, little fellow.
I know you don't like the big scary needles.
This time we'll use a topical cream instead.
Oh yeah, you try anything and I'll cream your topical...
I've applied a powerful muscle relaxant for the pain.
And this sterile wrap should keep him from doing anymore damage.
So, we're good? Cause it's kinda grossing me out.
I'd like to keep him under observation for a few days.
But he'll be fine.
Okay, big guy?
Oh, doctor.
Did we operate in time?
Why doctor. You know there's always time... for love.
All right, Private.
Now describe to us exactly what you see.
Em, wall.
Possibly brick.
We're one penguin short.
- How are we supposed to get intel on Skipper's condition, if we can't... - Wait.
Listen.
But doctor, we can't just give up on him.
I'm afraid the infection is just too far along.
It's reached the brain and it's done things.
Horrible things.
There's simply nothing we can do.
The infection.
Still, it's nice they brought in an orchestra to help break the news.
I'm so sorry. It's over.
Skipper's... gone.
It... it can't be.
What do we do?
We'll honor him the way he would have wanted.
By soldiering on like men.
Why? Why?
Why?
No, you've got to put more emotion in it.
Like it disappointed but you also care.
Yes, that's it.
Just like Skipper used to do it.
Oh dear. Give a light.
It's Skipper.
Skipper?
It's not Skipper. At least, not anymore.
You heard the doctor.
That infection did things to his brain.
Horrible things.
What kind of horrible things?
By the looks of it I'd say horrible zombie things.
Is it... dangerous?
You bet your succulent cerebral cortex, he is.
Just try to avoid eye contact.
Wear something to protect the brain area.
And move slowly towards
Brain!
It's trying to devour us all.
Run!
Brain!
I think we lost him.
Let me just slowly poke my head around this blind corner to make sure that
Okay, based on what I know about zombies
the safest place to hide is in a small dark room with creepy lighting.
Everything I've learned is a lie.
Is he gone?
I don't see him any...
What was that for?
Well, I just assumed he was going to pop up out from out of no...
Look behind you!
And once again I appear to be mistaken.
Well, I guess you can never tell...
He's eating Rico's brain.
Rico's.
I mean, did you even see this juicy jumbo genius tenderloin, huh?
That's grade A science brain, baby.
Brain.
Every brain for itself.
Brain.
Is there any way we can help him?
Are you mad, man?
There's no known cure for chronic zombieism.
Unless...
If we capture zombie Skipper, we could find the cure.
How do we do that?
Through a gruelling series of increasingly painful test to every part of Skipper's body.
But won't all that pain be... painful?
Not to a zombie.
Come 'ere.
Quick. He's getting away.
Oh, right.
Pile on, everyone.
Remember, he can't feel a thing.
No mercy this time, boys.
Rico, see if you can shut off your conscious and sense of decency.
Stop! Stop!
The zombie can speak.
I'm...
not...
a zombie.
But... the infection.
We heard the doctor say that...
Who you gonna believe?
Some two-bit medicine man or your own commanding officer?
Could it really be true?
How can we know for sure?
Oh, Rico. Chainsaw is your answer to everything.
Men. Amigos.
My brothers of black and white.
Look at me.
All I've got is a broken wing.
And I'm pretty sure that's not contagious.
Then why were you chasing us?
Because it itches like sandpaper underpants.
Rico, scratch manoeuvres, double-time.
Now, Rico.
Nice try, zombie.
Okay, I stand corrected on the contagiousness of broken wings.
But I did tell you I wasn't a zombie.