Some people have worry stones; others keep stress balls or bean bags near them, or on their desks. One carries a stress penguin. Stress Penguin sits, stoic and straight, on the corner of his desk, the ever watchful guardian of the tester. From time to time, his human looks up from his test to consult with Stress Penguin, as if staring him desperately in the eyes, the answer will be whispered to him by the tiny bird. Stress Penguin sits in silence. Without warning, he is snatched from his post, the air crushed out of his body once, twice... five quick pulses, like a drill in dexterity, or maybe just a nervous twitch. The sentinel is returned to his place on the corner of the desk, refilling his body to its normal proportions. He watches the progress, wishing he could help more. If only he could tip, maybe fall with his beak "coincidentally" on a key phrase. If he could soothe his human's nerves with calming words, rather than suffering the periodic brutality of having his body crushed time, and time again. Stress Penguin can do no more than be a watchful sentry, a comfort and support, a silent encouragement, waiting for the next moment he is needed to alleviate some tension on test day.