Narrator: Antarctica, an inhospitable wasteland, but even here, on the Earth's frozen bottom, we find life.
Cue Private's egg revealed under the snow, which rolls over the snow.
Narrator: And not just any life… Penguins.
(Hundreds of penguins waddle in a line stretching miles. In the line, the wash up in a tiny pool and jump over a small cliff. One penguin tumbles and falls back, topping his followers like dominoes)
Joyous, frolicking, waddling, cute and cuddly life. Look at them, tumbling onto their chubby bum bums. Who could take these frisky snow-clowns…
(As the older penguins almost fall on baby Skipper, Rico, and Kowalski, they move out of the way.)
Skipper: Seriously!? Does anyone even know where we're marching to?
Penguin #1: Who cares?
Penguin #2: I question nothing.
Penguin #3: Me, too.
Penguin #4: Me, too.
Skipper: Well, fine. We'll just fly to the front of the line and see for ourselves. Kowalski, Rico, engage aerial surveillance.
(They flap their wings, but cannot fly.)
Kowalski: Skipper, we appear to be flightless.
Skipper: [looks at his wings] Oh, well, what's the point of these?
(Rico seems to have an idea. He hits Skipper's wing in some sort of high five.)
Skipper: Whoa, I like it! Hey, this could be our thing! What are we going to call it? Let's call it the, uh… high one.