Wonder about Your Guilt

I am a monster. Forgive me while I spout.
On second thought it’s better to figure me out.
I wear these earmuffs in the dead of summer
to get attention while you tumble in slumber.
And I sweat it out. What do you expect? 
A copper in Antarctica paying my debt
to a tiny penguin who slipped and fell.
You know that tumble only too well.
The ice sometimes cracks and then you sneeze
up to your knees with a guilty wheeze.   
The word is out. You should be good riddens.
without ear muffs by the Mother of Mittens.      
Not a pretty site unless you serve time with ruffins
gawking in awe among cliffs of Puffins.