Paco

Paco was a penguin who always wore a black sombrero with silver trim. It was Paco’s lucky sombrero. He knew it was his lucky sombrero because one day he was wearing it and the wind blew it away.
Paco ran after it.
By the time he had it back on his head and had returned to his beach, half the guys he’d just been talking to had been munched by a pair of hungry killer whales. Paco figured if it wasn’t for his lucky sombrero, he’d have been munched too.
He was wearing it that day on the ice flow when he met Sally. Sally was the best looking penguin south of Terra Del Fuego and that’s saying something.
Paco and Sally lived blissfully for several years but one day a huge shark named Fergal happened by and--well you know the rest.
Paco never found another mate, but he always wore his lucky sombrero hoping he might chance on another pretty penguin.
Actually that sombrero made Paco look pretty darn silly. Many of the females in his flock wouldn’t dare be caught near him much less mating him.
“Here comes that weirdo with the stupid hat. Hide!”
This was both good and bad, depending on your point of view.
Paco lived out his days in that sombrero `till he finally laid down one day and died of old age. Nobody, not even carrion fowl thought he was dead for several days, they just thought he was snoozing with his sombrero tipped down over his face. Finally a strong gust of wind blew it away and the birds flew down next to our deceased hero.
“Hey Charlie,” one said. “It’s Paco and he’s dead.”
“You sure?”
“Look for your self. That’s one dead ass penguin.”
“Let’s eat `em,” said another bird.
“Well, sure. But where’s his hat? We can’t eat him with out the hat.”
“Wouldn’t be proper,” said Charlie.
They never did find his hat. They ate him anyway.