With the heavenly aroma of sauerkraut soup still wafting in the air and visions of electronic mayhem dancing in their heads, the little ones reluctantly slipped off to bed. A (very) brief time later, they came down again, yelling and laughing, tearing up the house and generally having the time of their lives. After all, what says Merry Christmas more than chocolate, tinsel and lots of plastic-y guns and ammo? That pretty much sums things up at Penguin Hall.
If sometime in the near future Central New York is overrun with aliens, mutants or zombies that have 1) an overwhelming zeal to conquer Earth (a near constant, so far as can be discerned from recent media); and 2) an unfortunate allergic reaction to Nerf™ material- well, then Penguin Hall will be the last bastion of society. If it glows, pops, whirrs, emits
beams of light and/or lazers, and poses a significant threat to life and limb- there’s a good chance it’s under the tree, or worse yet, in the possession of one of the younger, less reliable inhabitants or visitors of Penguin Hall. One can hope for peace on earth, but you can bet the farm on pieces of earth; -usually on the carpet or the couch, or anything that is supposed to remain in a pristine state.
If sometime in the near future Central New York is overrun with aliens, mutants or zombies that have 1) an overwhelming zeal to conquer Earth (a near constant, so far as can be discerned from recent media); and 2) an unfortunate allergic reaction to Nerf™ material- well, then Penguin Hall will be the last bastion of society. If it glows, pops, whirrs, emits
beams of light and/or lazers, and poses a significant threat to life and limb- there’s a good chance it’s under the tree, or worse yet, in the possession of one of the younger, less reliable inhabitants or visitors of Penguin Hall. One can hope for peace on earth, but you can bet the farm on pieces of earth; -usually on the carpet or the couch, or anything that is supposed to remain in a pristine state. 
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