Two NT short stories in need of feedback
Apr 8, 2014 11:46:55 GMT -5
Stephanie (swordlilly) likes this
Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2014 11:46:55 GMT -5
I recently wrote these two, and, well, an extra pair of eyes or several is always useful for making sure everything checks out before I submit. I also figured it would be more efficient if I posted them both in the same thread. Feel free to read and/or give feedback on either or both.
Twenty-Four Hours - On August 25, 2004, the first ever Mutant Day was celebrated--by turning nearly every Neopet into their Mutant colour for a day. For most pets, this was a nightmare. For one Dark_breed_Hyren, former Mutant and former commander of Dr. Sloth's invasion forces, it was a twenty-four-hour dream come true.
Rejection Letters - In this series of formal correspondences, King Jazan is determined to apologize to Princess Amira for the events of the Lost Desert Plot. Amira is determined to reject him every step of the way.
Twenty-Four Hours - On August 25, 2004, the first ever Mutant Day was celebrated--by turning nearly every Neopet into their Mutant colour for a day. For most pets, this was a nightmare. For one Dark_breed_Hyren, former Mutant and former commander of Dr. Sloth's invasion forces, it was a twenty-four-hour dream come true.
25 Hiding, Y6
The first thing Dark_breed_Hyren noticed when he woke up that morning was that his legs were so far off the end of his bed that his knees were bent and his feet touched the ground.
“What the…” The blue Grundo sat up to see who had sawed off half of his bed while he was asleep—and it promptly collapsed underneath him.
The second thing he noticed was the abrupt change in his voice’s timbre. It had taken a sharp turn for the deeper, and seemed to almost echo off of the dried bamboo walls of his Mystery Island bedroom.
“What’s going on.” It was a command, not a question, although to whom he knew not. Hyren reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes—and froze midway. Because his hands were no longer blue and stubby.
They were dark green and the size of hams.
A thousand thoughts and emotions whirled through his mind struggling for dominance, but the one that breached the surface first was jubilation. “I’m back!” the suddenly Mutant Grundo roared, leaping to his feet with a wild grin. His antennae brushed the ceiling, and he realized he’d never seen the house from this angle before.
“I’m back!” he cried again, throwing open his door – and inadvertently tearing it clean from the hinges and sending it crashing through a wall – and barreling down the hall. “Terra!!”
It had been a little over two years since the then-Mutant, then-Commander Hyren had first met his future owner and escaped with her and her Zafara from the clutches of his former master Dr. Sloth. A little over two years since Hyren had his mutation reversed in order to escape an untimely demise and live a quiet life with his newfound family as an unassuming blue Grundo.
It would have been a lie to say he didn’t miss that old body with its incredible powers of strength and stamina. He used to garner respect from his subordinates. Intimidation was as easy as a well-timed scowl—or punching a hole in a wall. After the mutation was reversed, though, a day would rarely go by without other Neopets mistaking him for a child. And despite his relentless regime at the Training School, he’d had to just accept the fact that he could never again wield a claymore or a polearm with anything approaching effectiveness.
But now, through some unknown power, all of that had changed.
Hyren rounded the corner. “Terra, I’m—AAAAUUUGHH!” Staring straight up at him, a look of horror plastered on its deformed muzzle, was the most hideous creature Hyren had ever seen. Its knobbly, warty olive-green scales twisted around its draconian body, its wings were wickedly clawed and the membranes hopelessly torn, and its bloodshot, slit-pupiled eyes spun wildly in its skull.
The creature let out a piercing screech of its own. “DON’T LOOK AT ME I’M HIDEOUS!” it wailed. Turning to run, it promptly smacked into the wall and collapsed in a daze, one wing twitching.
“Wait a minute…” Hyren would know that scream anywhere—it was the same one his brother let out every time he saw a Spyder, if a little raspier. Carefully, the Mutant Grundo sidled over to the monstrosity and poked it with a two-toed foot. “… Pharazon?”
“Who are you, what do you want, have you come to take me away because I’m ugly?!” ArPharazonTheGolden sniveled, curling into a ball.
Hyren picked up the Mutant Draik by his tail—the first time the Grundo had ever gotten to do that, he realised with a smirk. He was getting re-accustomed to this quickly. Although the fact that Pharazon had been transmogrified as well worried him a little. “It’s me, buddy. Your brother.”
Pharazon opened his eyes, swinging slowly upside-down like some kind of Draik-shaped pendulum. “… Hyren? Why aren’t I yellow any more?”
He was the baby of the family. Terra had wanted a Draik ever since the species was discovered, and scrimped and saved for a Draik Egg, one of the few real goals she ever had. Pharazon was hatched in Swimming of last year.
“Same reason I’m huge and awesome again, I’ll bet,” Hyren rumbled. “Maybe Terra knows what’s going on.” He carried the Draik to their owner’s room, having to duck through the doorframe.
Terra had somehow slept through Hyren’s outburst of joy, and the Grundo gently deposited Pharazon on the floor and approached the slumbering teen. She hadn’t changed much from when Hyren had met her. Mostly she’d just grown a little taller, but compared to him now she was still tiny. Lately she’d been experimenting with shorter hair, and it spilled around her shoulders in a light brown puddle. Hyren thought she looked better with it long, but he was wiser than to make misinterpretable remarks about a teenage girl’s appearance.
He reached out with one meaty finger and poked her arm. “Terra,” he whispered.
“Whuh…” she murmured, stirring and looking over her shoulder at him. Her blue eyes widened at the Mutant Grundo standing over her.
Before she could scream, Hyren clamped a huge hand over her mouth and sat her up. He’d miscalculated just how much bigger his hand had gotten and it nearly covered her entire face, leaving just a pair of frightened eyes looking from him to the anxious Draik wringing his tail beside him.
“Shhh,” Hyren said, placing a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. It’s me.” He gave her a warm smile.
The look in her eyes changed from terror to recognition, and he let her go. “… Hyren?” she stammered in disbelief, reaching for her glasses and pulling them on. “What’s… you’re…”
“Yeah!” Hyren finished, splaying his hands. “I have no idea how this happened, but isn’t it great?”
“It’s not great for me,” Pharazon moaned.
Terra rubbed at her face. “Whoa, is that a Mutant Draik? How did he—“ She paused, looking back and forth from the Draik to the Grundo. Hyren could practically see the gears in her mind whirring. “Oh no. Pharazon—“
“Hey, what’s the occasion?” a squeaky voice asked from the doorway.
Hyren turned slowly, dreading what horrible mutation might have befallen his sister… and saw a completely normal-looking red Zafara staring at them quizzically.
“Cool, a mutant party,” Blynn679 continued, toddling into the room on her large hind feet and waving to the three of them. “Hi Terra. Hyren. Creepy dude.”
“Augh!” Pharazon gave his tail another twist and threw his head back in anguish.
Blynn giggled. “Just kidding, Pharazon. Oh man, you look so cool as a Mutant!” She began to circle the Draik, poking and prodding at him. “Ohhh neat, is this really your brain?” she asked, popping up behind his head.
“I—I don’t know,” Pharazon stuttered, “but you probably shouldn’t—“
Blynn jabbed it with a finger.
Pharazon let out a yelp, convulsed, and began flapping his arms and clucking like a Peadackle.
The Zafara steepled her fingers. “I could get used to this.” A disturbingly malicious grin crept up her muzzle.
“Okay, guys, we have to try to figure this out,” Terra insisted, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “What did we eat last night?”
“Ham and Cheese Mashed Potatoes,” Blynn recollected. “With churros for dessert.”
Pharazon finally stopped clucking. With a twitch of his head he was back to normal and didn’t seem to notice anything had happened. “But we all had the same thing, and only two of us woke up this morning mutated.”
“But—wait, Zafaras don’t have a Mutant form,” Terra realised. “So maybe… hm…”
“Oh, never mind that!” Hyren cut in. Why stand around wondering when his fondest dreams had finally come true? He figured it was best to just take the twist of fate and enjoy it. He picked Terra up under her arms and spun her around, feeling like things were finally normal again. “Let’s go have some fun!”
His owner cracked a grin and patted his arm. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy about it. It is kinda cool to see you back to your old self.”
“I’ve gotta do something incredible,” he continued, setting her down, “like win a weightlifting contest, or tug a boat into Mystery Island Harbor by my teeth, or—or—“ Unable to contain himself, he dashed out of the room, visions of grandeur filling his mind. Finally, everyone on would know him for who he was: strong.
Accidentally tearing the front door off its hinges as well, he careened outside and swiveled to a stop in front of their modest bamboo Neohome. The Grundo spat into his hands and rubbed them together. Crouching down, he grasped the corner of the house firmly and lifted with all his might.
There was a terrific cracking sound as he broke the entire building clean from the ground and held it a full metre above where it normally stood. An enormous grin spread up his face. Mostly he was relieved that Terra had chosen bamboo over transparishield or brick.
“Oh cool!” a young voice cried from behind him.
Hyren looked over his shoulder to see a small blue Chomby and a green Poogle gawking at him from the road. He winked at them and hefted the house a few times to show off.
“Oh man, that is so neat!” the Poogle chirped.
“Someday, I wanna be as strong as him!” the Chomby continued, clutching her Jeran Action Figure as the two continued down the street.
“Hyren!” Terra’s voice called from somewhere inside. “Put the house down, now!” She wasn’t very good at sounding disciplinarian, he noted with amusement.
He’d just lowered their domicile back to the ground when he heard the familiar flutter of wings.
“Weeeeewoooooo!”
A rolled-up newspaper dropped onto Hyren’s head, and with his enhanced reflexes he caught it as it bounced off. Normally that would have hurt, but thanks to his thick skull and thicker pride, it was barely a glancing blow.
As he unfolded the day’s issue of the Neopian Times, however, his smile faded.
***
“So the powers that be have randomly declared today Mutant Day?” Terra asked through a mouthful of Shoyru Cereal.
“Apparently,” Hyren replied, snapping out the newspaper so it lay flat on the kitchen table. He had eschewed his usual chair in favour of sitting on the floor, not wanting to break any more furniture. As it was, he still towered over the table anyway. “Which means in less than…” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “… Sixteen hours, Pharazon and I will be back to normal.” He sighed, his massive shoulders slumping.
“I wanna be a Mutant,” Blynn grumbled. “It’s not fair.”
“Well, thank the faeries for that,” Pharazon groaned, taking a sip from his glass of milk. Blynn reached over and poked his exposed brain again, and the Draik shuddered and began croaking like a Greeble. “In that case,” he continued between croaks, “I’m going to go ahead and hole myself up in my room for the rest of the day, if you all don’t mind.” With one final wall-eyed ribbit, he excused himself from the table.
Blynn just giggled maniacally.
Hyren stood up and spread his hand on the newspaper, but quickly withdrew it when he heard the table start to creak beneath the pressure. “I have to make every second count! Incredible won’t cut it any more! I have to do something… world-changing!” He clenched his fist and stared off into the nonexistent horizon dramatically.
Terra chuckled and brought her bowl and spoon to the sink, then came over and nudged him with her elbow. “Well, would my big, strong, world-changing Grundo like to help me with grocery shopping? It would be really nice to have somebody to carry all those bags.”
Hyren grimaced at her. “Er… no offense, Terra, but I really—“
“Weeeeewooooo!” A white Weewoo wearing a tiny postal cap flew through the gaping hole that had once been the front door. With one foot, it pulled a letter from the mailbag at its side and dropped it into Terra’s hands, then flew out the other hole in the wall that the front door had crashed through.
Terra opened the letter, and her face lit up. “Oh, neat! My friend is in town and he says he wants to meet up with me today!”
“What friend?” Hyren leaned over her shoulder suspiciously. “Do I know this guy?”
The girl folded the letter down so he couldn’t see it. “The one I’ve been Neomailing back and forth for like a year now,” she explained, tucking the envelope into her trousers pocket. “It’s okay, he’s really nice. From Neopia Central. Has a Kacheek and a Uni.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Oooh, I’m nervous! I’ve never met him in real life before! What if I act like a total dweeb? What if he doesn’t want to be friends any more?”
“Go, have fun!” Blynn exclaimed, finishing off Pharazon’s milk. “Hyren and I will take care of shopping for you! Right, big guy?”
Hyren folded his arms. “I don’t know. Maybe I should go along with Terra, for backup.” He didn’t like the idea of her meeting someone on her own. He always played bodyguard to her, but for the first time he could actually look the part. And, to be honest with himself, he would much prefer that than running errands.
Terra flushed. “No, Blynn’s right. I’ll be fine. Sorry, but, uh…” She scratched the back of her neck. “It would be kind of embarrassing if you were there.”
“Oh.” The Grundo’s antennae drooped. He embarrassed her? Since when? Was it because he was big now? Or… had he always been an embarrassment and never noticed?
Blynn snapped him out of his funk by grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Let’s go! We’re burning daylight, here!”
“I’ll say we are,” Hyren murmured, staring up at the cloud-spotted sky. Maybe in town he’d find something amazing to do with his remaining hours of greatness, like rescue pets from a burning building or stop an evil Faerie. Or at least get Terra to think he was cool again.
***
No dice. Hyren found himself sitting on the patio of a café between bursts of summer rain, waiting with a small herd of groceries for Blynn to finish at the local candy store. At first he’d entertained himself by looking around at all of the other pets who’d been mutated, but even that got old after a while, as it seemed almost everyone had decided to just cope with their new forms for the day and go on with business as usual. A few times he’d spot another Mutant Grundo and wave cheerily, but the other Grundos would invariably respond with a dirty look. Hyren couldn’t understand why.
So now he sat sipping a Cherry Neocola, reading one of the books they’d bought for Pharazon, thankful that he at least still fit under the table’s umbrella—as long as he didn’t try to sit in any of the chairs, of course.
He felt eyes linger on him, and he glanced up to see a Mutant Techo holding a purse and giving him a somewhat confused and pitying look.
Hyren wrinkled his lack of nose. “Can I help you?” While it was possible that she wanted to utilize his strength in getting her Kadoatie down from a tree or some such, the look on her face seemed to say otherwise.
She fidgeted nervously. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I just couldn’t help but notice…” Her gaze flicked down to the book he held in one hand. “Isn’t that a little… er… advanced for you?”
He checked the cover of the book. Mathematics in Space. Looking back up at the Techo, his eyes narrowed. “No. What are you trying to say?”
She winced. “Er, well, it just seems that perhaps for someone of your… decreased intellect, a more suitable—“
“Excuse me?!” Hyren slammed the book shut and threw it onto the table. The entire table collapsed, and the umbrella fell down around his head, but he grabbed it and tossed it over his shoulder. “So you think I’m a brainless chunk of meat, is that it?! You think all Mutant Grundos are dimwits?!” From around him he heard the nervous murmur of other Neopets, but he wasn’t of the mind to care. Let them see his anger. That would teach them.
The Techo could take no more. “D-don’t hurt me!” she cried out, backing away for a few steps, stumbling, then turning and running.
Fuming, Hyren turned and glowered at the other Neopets. They had those same looks of fear in their eyes as they edged away from the testy mass of muscle. It was the type of fear Hyren relished during his military conquests, he thought as he let the rage swirl within him.
It was also the type of fear he’d seen in Terra’s eyes that morning.
The rage broke and he swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “No…” He realised that it didn’t matter how big or strong he got. Neopets would just find different ways to stereotype him. And for all the grief he got for being short, suddenly this felt worse. He couldn’t wait for the day to be over.
Leaping over the short fence surrounding the patio, he took off at a run, trying to escape the scared faces, trying to escape himself. He’d tapped into parts of himself he thought he’d left behind when the Space Faerie turned him blue again. He’d left them behind for a reason.
“Hyren!” he heard Blynn call as he swerved around the corner of a building and took off for the jungle.
“Keep shopping without me!” he choked.
“But—I can’t carry all of these bags myself! Awww, dung!” Those were the last words he heard from the Zafara as the lush undergrowth swallowed him.
He spent the next few hours just trying to drain the anger from his system. Finally someplace where he couldn’t hurt anyone, Hyren lobbed boulders around, punched craters in the sand, and crushed rocks with his bare hands. As the sun dipped toward the horizon he attacked the massive swells at Nuranna Beach on the north shore, roaring defiance at the towering waves.
Sunset found him exhausted at last. He lay on the beach watching the sky redden. The sun, though hidden from sight by a nearby outcrop of mountain, cast its deep golden light on the ocean, rendering the water a translucent blue-green-grey.
It was time to go home.
Hyren picked an armful of Lemwarts for the walk back, hoping Blynn had found someone to help her out. He felt terrible for abandoning her, but if he had stayed, it would have been much worse. Now he just felt… numb. It was better than the anger and the raw pride he’d held that morning, at least. His dream come true had turned into a nightmare.
As he rounded a bend in the shore near their home, he noticed a small, solitary figure sitting in the sand, dyed orange by the setting sun. Hyren’s antennae perked. Terra. He’d recognize that tacky Tombola-style shirt anywhere. But what was she doing out here, with her knees curled to her chest and her head buried in her arms—oh no.
He dropped his remaining Lemwarts and rushed to her side. In spite of the workout he’d given himself that afternoon, his Mutant body had rebounded quickly with sustenance. But all he could think of right now was that his owner was in distress.
“Terra!” He fell to his knees on the sand beside her. “What happened?!”
She looked up at him, tears coursing down her cheeks, with an expression of abject misery. “He… he told me he doesn’t want to be friends any more,” she replied shakily. “He says I’m… not what he was expecting. He thinks I’m too weird and… and that I need to grow up. He doesn’t want me to Neomail him any more, either…” With that she collapsed into a fresh bout of sobs. “Why am I such an idiot?!”
Hyren threw his arms around her and held her close. “You are not an idiot. He is. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“I’m glad,” she hiccoughed, hugging him back.
They stayed like that as the sun sank below the horizon and the world turned to twilight, and Hyren felt the numbness get filled back up with a soul-satisfying warmth. She needed him. This scene would have played out the same even if he was blue and small. He was her family, and no alteration in his form could change that. Suddenly he realised that he would rather use his rapidly ebbing time as a Mutant comforting her than doing anything else that he thought would bring him glory or respect.
“Do… I really embarrass you that badly?” he asked once she had calmed down enough.
“No.” The teen wiped her tears on her sleeve and put her glasses back on. “No, I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean it like that. I was just really nervous and didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” She frowned. “But now that I see what happened, I wish you had been there, so you could have taught him a lesson or two!” She jabbed at the air with her fists.
Hyren laughed. “Well, next time anybody tries to pull a stunt like that, I’ll be right there with you to show them why you don’t mess with my family!”
“It’s a deal!” Terra gave him a smile and his heart leaped to see her happy again. “Oh… how did shopping with Blynn go?”
One of Hyren’s antennae twitched. “Oh. Right. About that.” With a grin, he lifted her into his arms and started down the beach with her. “Well, let’s just focus on getting home. I’ll fix us some dinner, how about that?” It still felt surreal. In less than eight hours he’d be short and blue again. This entire day would just seem like a long dream, fading with time. But he wanted to spend the rest of it with his family.
“Hyren…” Terra glared up at him suspiciously. “Did you leave Blynn to do the shopping herself?”
“So, what do you want for dinner? I’m thinking Honey and Bacon Burgers.”
“Hyren.”
“Ooh, with Fruit Tarts for dessert!”
“Hyren!”
It was a good day.
The first thing Dark_breed_Hyren noticed when he woke up that morning was that his legs were so far off the end of his bed that his knees were bent and his feet touched the ground.
“What the…” The blue Grundo sat up to see who had sawed off half of his bed while he was asleep—and it promptly collapsed underneath him.
The second thing he noticed was the abrupt change in his voice’s timbre. It had taken a sharp turn for the deeper, and seemed to almost echo off of the dried bamboo walls of his Mystery Island bedroom.
“What’s going on.” It was a command, not a question, although to whom he knew not. Hyren reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes—and froze midway. Because his hands were no longer blue and stubby.
They were dark green and the size of hams.
A thousand thoughts and emotions whirled through his mind struggling for dominance, but the one that breached the surface first was jubilation. “I’m back!” the suddenly Mutant Grundo roared, leaping to his feet with a wild grin. His antennae brushed the ceiling, and he realized he’d never seen the house from this angle before.
“I’m back!” he cried again, throwing open his door – and inadvertently tearing it clean from the hinges and sending it crashing through a wall – and barreling down the hall. “Terra!!”
It had been a little over two years since the then-Mutant, then-Commander Hyren had first met his future owner and escaped with her and her Zafara from the clutches of his former master Dr. Sloth. A little over two years since Hyren had his mutation reversed in order to escape an untimely demise and live a quiet life with his newfound family as an unassuming blue Grundo.
It would have been a lie to say he didn’t miss that old body with its incredible powers of strength and stamina. He used to garner respect from his subordinates. Intimidation was as easy as a well-timed scowl—or punching a hole in a wall. After the mutation was reversed, though, a day would rarely go by without other Neopets mistaking him for a child. And despite his relentless regime at the Training School, he’d had to just accept the fact that he could never again wield a claymore or a polearm with anything approaching effectiveness.
But now, through some unknown power, all of that had changed.
Hyren rounded the corner. “Terra, I’m—AAAAUUUGHH!” Staring straight up at him, a look of horror plastered on its deformed muzzle, was the most hideous creature Hyren had ever seen. Its knobbly, warty olive-green scales twisted around its draconian body, its wings were wickedly clawed and the membranes hopelessly torn, and its bloodshot, slit-pupiled eyes spun wildly in its skull.
The creature let out a piercing screech of its own. “DON’T LOOK AT ME I’M HIDEOUS!” it wailed. Turning to run, it promptly smacked into the wall and collapsed in a daze, one wing twitching.
“Wait a minute…” Hyren would know that scream anywhere—it was the same one his brother let out every time he saw a Spyder, if a little raspier. Carefully, the Mutant Grundo sidled over to the monstrosity and poked it with a two-toed foot. “… Pharazon?”
“Who are you, what do you want, have you come to take me away because I’m ugly?!” ArPharazonTheGolden sniveled, curling into a ball.
Hyren picked up the Mutant Draik by his tail—the first time the Grundo had ever gotten to do that, he realised with a smirk. He was getting re-accustomed to this quickly. Although the fact that Pharazon had been transmogrified as well worried him a little. “It’s me, buddy. Your brother.”
Pharazon opened his eyes, swinging slowly upside-down like some kind of Draik-shaped pendulum. “… Hyren? Why aren’t I yellow any more?”
He was the baby of the family. Terra had wanted a Draik ever since the species was discovered, and scrimped and saved for a Draik Egg, one of the few real goals she ever had. Pharazon was hatched in Swimming of last year.
“Same reason I’m huge and awesome again, I’ll bet,” Hyren rumbled. “Maybe Terra knows what’s going on.” He carried the Draik to their owner’s room, having to duck through the doorframe.
Terra had somehow slept through Hyren’s outburst of joy, and the Grundo gently deposited Pharazon on the floor and approached the slumbering teen. She hadn’t changed much from when Hyren had met her. Mostly she’d just grown a little taller, but compared to him now she was still tiny. Lately she’d been experimenting with shorter hair, and it spilled around her shoulders in a light brown puddle. Hyren thought she looked better with it long, but he was wiser than to make misinterpretable remarks about a teenage girl’s appearance.
He reached out with one meaty finger and poked her arm. “Terra,” he whispered.
“Whuh…” she murmured, stirring and looking over her shoulder at him. Her blue eyes widened at the Mutant Grundo standing over her.
Before she could scream, Hyren clamped a huge hand over her mouth and sat her up. He’d miscalculated just how much bigger his hand had gotten and it nearly covered her entire face, leaving just a pair of frightened eyes looking from him to the anxious Draik wringing his tail beside him.
“Shhh,” Hyren said, placing a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. It’s me.” He gave her a warm smile.
The look in her eyes changed from terror to recognition, and he let her go. “… Hyren?” she stammered in disbelief, reaching for her glasses and pulling them on. “What’s… you’re…”
“Yeah!” Hyren finished, splaying his hands. “I have no idea how this happened, but isn’t it great?”
“It’s not great for me,” Pharazon moaned.
Terra rubbed at her face. “Whoa, is that a Mutant Draik? How did he—“ She paused, looking back and forth from the Draik to the Grundo. Hyren could practically see the gears in her mind whirring. “Oh no. Pharazon—“
“Hey, what’s the occasion?” a squeaky voice asked from the doorway.
Hyren turned slowly, dreading what horrible mutation might have befallen his sister… and saw a completely normal-looking red Zafara staring at them quizzically.
“Cool, a mutant party,” Blynn679 continued, toddling into the room on her large hind feet and waving to the three of them. “Hi Terra. Hyren. Creepy dude.”
“Augh!” Pharazon gave his tail another twist and threw his head back in anguish.
Blynn giggled. “Just kidding, Pharazon. Oh man, you look so cool as a Mutant!” She began to circle the Draik, poking and prodding at him. “Ohhh neat, is this really your brain?” she asked, popping up behind his head.
“I—I don’t know,” Pharazon stuttered, “but you probably shouldn’t—“
Blynn jabbed it with a finger.
Pharazon let out a yelp, convulsed, and began flapping his arms and clucking like a Peadackle.
The Zafara steepled her fingers. “I could get used to this.” A disturbingly malicious grin crept up her muzzle.
“Okay, guys, we have to try to figure this out,” Terra insisted, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “What did we eat last night?”
“Ham and Cheese Mashed Potatoes,” Blynn recollected. “With churros for dessert.”
Pharazon finally stopped clucking. With a twitch of his head he was back to normal and didn’t seem to notice anything had happened. “But we all had the same thing, and only two of us woke up this morning mutated.”
“But—wait, Zafaras don’t have a Mutant form,” Terra realised. “So maybe… hm…”
“Oh, never mind that!” Hyren cut in. Why stand around wondering when his fondest dreams had finally come true? He figured it was best to just take the twist of fate and enjoy it. He picked Terra up under her arms and spun her around, feeling like things were finally normal again. “Let’s go have some fun!”
His owner cracked a grin and patted his arm. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy about it. It is kinda cool to see you back to your old self.”
“I’ve gotta do something incredible,” he continued, setting her down, “like win a weightlifting contest, or tug a boat into Mystery Island Harbor by my teeth, or—or—“ Unable to contain himself, he dashed out of the room, visions of grandeur filling his mind. Finally, everyone on would know him for who he was: strong.
Accidentally tearing the front door off its hinges as well, he careened outside and swiveled to a stop in front of their modest bamboo Neohome. The Grundo spat into his hands and rubbed them together. Crouching down, he grasped the corner of the house firmly and lifted with all his might.
There was a terrific cracking sound as he broke the entire building clean from the ground and held it a full metre above where it normally stood. An enormous grin spread up his face. Mostly he was relieved that Terra had chosen bamboo over transparishield or brick.
“Oh cool!” a young voice cried from behind him.
Hyren looked over his shoulder to see a small blue Chomby and a green Poogle gawking at him from the road. He winked at them and hefted the house a few times to show off.
“Oh man, that is so neat!” the Poogle chirped.
“Someday, I wanna be as strong as him!” the Chomby continued, clutching her Jeran Action Figure as the two continued down the street.
“Hyren!” Terra’s voice called from somewhere inside. “Put the house down, now!” She wasn’t very good at sounding disciplinarian, he noted with amusement.
He’d just lowered their domicile back to the ground when he heard the familiar flutter of wings.
“Weeeeewoooooo!”
A rolled-up newspaper dropped onto Hyren’s head, and with his enhanced reflexes he caught it as it bounced off. Normally that would have hurt, but thanks to his thick skull and thicker pride, it was barely a glancing blow.
As he unfolded the day’s issue of the Neopian Times, however, his smile faded.
***
“So the powers that be have randomly declared today Mutant Day?” Terra asked through a mouthful of Shoyru Cereal.
“Apparently,” Hyren replied, snapping out the newspaper so it lay flat on the kitchen table. He had eschewed his usual chair in favour of sitting on the floor, not wanting to break any more furniture. As it was, he still towered over the table anyway. “Which means in less than…” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “… Sixteen hours, Pharazon and I will be back to normal.” He sighed, his massive shoulders slumping.
“I wanna be a Mutant,” Blynn grumbled. “It’s not fair.”
“Well, thank the faeries for that,” Pharazon groaned, taking a sip from his glass of milk. Blynn reached over and poked his exposed brain again, and the Draik shuddered and began croaking like a Greeble. “In that case,” he continued between croaks, “I’m going to go ahead and hole myself up in my room for the rest of the day, if you all don’t mind.” With one final wall-eyed ribbit, he excused himself from the table.
Blynn just giggled maniacally.
Hyren stood up and spread his hand on the newspaper, but quickly withdrew it when he heard the table start to creak beneath the pressure. “I have to make every second count! Incredible won’t cut it any more! I have to do something… world-changing!” He clenched his fist and stared off into the nonexistent horizon dramatically.
Terra chuckled and brought her bowl and spoon to the sink, then came over and nudged him with her elbow. “Well, would my big, strong, world-changing Grundo like to help me with grocery shopping? It would be really nice to have somebody to carry all those bags.”
Hyren grimaced at her. “Er… no offense, Terra, but I really—“
“Weeeeewooooo!” A white Weewoo wearing a tiny postal cap flew through the gaping hole that had once been the front door. With one foot, it pulled a letter from the mailbag at its side and dropped it into Terra’s hands, then flew out the other hole in the wall that the front door had crashed through.
Terra opened the letter, and her face lit up. “Oh, neat! My friend is in town and he says he wants to meet up with me today!”
“What friend?” Hyren leaned over her shoulder suspiciously. “Do I know this guy?”
The girl folded the letter down so he couldn’t see it. “The one I’ve been Neomailing back and forth for like a year now,” she explained, tucking the envelope into her trousers pocket. “It’s okay, he’s really nice. From Neopia Central. Has a Kacheek and a Uni.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Oooh, I’m nervous! I’ve never met him in real life before! What if I act like a total dweeb? What if he doesn’t want to be friends any more?”
“Go, have fun!” Blynn exclaimed, finishing off Pharazon’s milk. “Hyren and I will take care of shopping for you! Right, big guy?”
Hyren folded his arms. “I don’t know. Maybe I should go along with Terra, for backup.” He didn’t like the idea of her meeting someone on her own. He always played bodyguard to her, but for the first time he could actually look the part. And, to be honest with himself, he would much prefer that than running errands.
Terra flushed. “No, Blynn’s right. I’ll be fine. Sorry, but, uh…” She scratched the back of her neck. “It would be kind of embarrassing if you were there.”
“Oh.” The Grundo’s antennae drooped. He embarrassed her? Since when? Was it because he was big now? Or… had he always been an embarrassment and never noticed?
Blynn snapped him out of his funk by grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Let’s go! We’re burning daylight, here!”
“I’ll say we are,” Hyren murmured, staring up at the cloud-spotted sky. Maybe in town he’d find something amazing to do with his remaining hours of greatness, like rescue pets from a burning building or stop an evil Faerie. Or at least get Terra to think he was cool again.
***
No dice. Hyren found himself sitting on the patio of a café between bursts of summer rain, waiting with a small herd of groceries for Blynn to finish at the local candy store. At first he’d entertained himself by looking around at all of the other pets who’d been mutated, but even that got old after a while, as it seemed almost everyone had decided to just cope with their new forms for the day and go on with business as usual. A few times he’d spot another Mutant Grundo and wave cheerily, but the other Grundos would invariably respond with a dirty look. Hyren couldn’t understand why.
So now he sat sipping a Cherry Neocola, reading one of the books they’d bought for Pharazon, thankful that he at least still fit under the table’s umbrella—as long as he didn’t try to sit in any of the chairs, of course.
He felt eyes linger on him, and he glanced up to see a Mutant Techo holding a purse and giving him a somewhat confused and pitying look.
Hyren wrinkled his lack of nose. “Can I help you?” While it was possible that she wanted to utilize his strength in getting her Kadoatie down from a tree or some such, the look on her face seemed to say otherwise.
She fidgeted nervously. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I just couldn’t help but notice…” Her gaze flicked down to the book he held in one hand. “Isn’t that a little… er… advanced for you?”
He checked the cover of the book. Mathematics in Space. Looking back up at the Techo, his eyes narrowed. “No. What are you trying to say?”
She winced. “Er, well, it just seems that perhaps for someone of your… decreased intellect, a more suitable—“
“Excuse me?!” Hyren slammed the book shut and threw it onto the table. The entire table collapsed, and the umbrella fell down around his head, but he grabbed it and tossed it over his shoulder. “So you think I’m a brainless chunk of meat, is that it?! You think all Mutant Grundos are dimwits?!” From around him he heard the nervous murmur of other Neopets, but he wasn’t of the mind to care. Let them see his anger. That would teach them.
The Techo could take no more. “D-don’t hurt me!” she cried out, backing away for a few steps, stumbling, then turning and running.
Fuming, Hyren turned and glowered at the other Neopets. They had those same looks of fear in their eyes as they edged away from the testy mass of muscle. It was the type of fear Hyren relished during his military conquests, he thought as he let the rage swirl within him.
It was also the type of fear he’d seen in Terra’s eyes that morning.
The rage broke and he swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “No…” He realised that it didn’t matter how big or strong he got. Neopets would just find different ways to stereotype him. And for all the grief he got for being short, suddenly this felt worse. He couldn’t wait for the day to be over.
Leaping over the short fence surrounding the patio, he took off at a run, trying to escape the scared faces, trying to escape himself. He’d tapped into parts of himself he thought he’d left behind when the Space Faerie turned him blue again. He’d left them behind for a reason.
“Hyren!” he heard Blynn call as he swerved around the corner of a building and took off for the jungle.
“Keep shopping without me!” he choked.
“But—I can’t carry all of these bags myself! Awww, dung!” Those were the last words he heard from the Zafara as the lush undergrowth swallowed him.
He spent the next few hours just trying to drain the anger from his system. Finally someplace where he couldn’t hurt anyone, Hyren lobbed boulders around, punched craters in the sand, and crushed rocks with his bare hands. As the sun dipped toward the horizon he attacked the massive swells at Nuranna Beach on the north shore, roaring defiance at the towering waves.
Sunset found him exhausted at last. He lay on the beach watching the sky redden. The sun, though hidden from sight by a nearby outcrop of mountain, cast its deep golden light on the ocean, rendering the water a translucent blue-green-grey.
It was time to go home.
Hyren picked an armful of Lemwarts for the walk back, hoping Blynn had found someone to help her out. He felt terrible for abandoning her, but if he had stayed, it would have been much worse. Now he just felt… numb. It was better than the anger and the raw pride he’d held that morning, at least. His dream come true had turned into a nightmare.
As he rounded a bend in the shore near their home, he noticed a small, solitary figure sitting in the sand, dyed orange by the setting sun. Hyren’s antennae perked. Terra. He’d recognize that tacky Tombola-style shirt anywhere. But what was she doing out here, with her knees curled to her chest and her head buried in her arms—oh no.
He dropped his remaining Lemwarts and rushed to her side. In spite of the workout he’d given himself that afternoon, his Mutant body had rebounded quickly with sustenance. But all he could think of right now was that his owner was in distress.
“Terra!” He fell to his knees on the sand beside her. “What happened?!”
She looked up at him, tears coursing down her cheeks, with an expression of abject misery. “He… he told me he doesn’t want to be friends any more,” she replied shakily. “He says I’m… not what he was expecting. He thinks I’m too weird and… and that I need to grow up. He doesn’t want me to Neomail him any more, either…” With that she collapsed into a fresh bout of sobs. “Why am I such an idiot?!”
Hyren threw his arms around her and held her close. “You are not an idiot. He is. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“I’m glad,” she hiccoughed, hugging him back.
They stayed like that as the sun sank below the horizon and the world turned to twilight, and Hyren felt the numbness get filled back up with a soul-satisfying warmth. She needed him. This scene would have played out the same even if he was blue and small. He was her family, and no alteration in his form could change that. Suddenly he realised that he would rather use his rapidly ebbing time as a Mutant comforting her than doing anything else that he thought would bring him glory or respect.
“Do… I really embarrass you that badly?” he asked once she had calmed down enough.
“No.” The teen wiped her tears on her sleeve and put her glasses back on. “No, I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean it like that. I was just really nervous and didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” She frowned. “But now that I see what happened, I wish you had been there, so you could have taught him a lesson or two!” She jabbed at the air with her fists.
Hyren laughed. “Well, next time anybody tries to pull a stunt like that, I’ll be right there with you to show them why you don’t mess with my family!”
“It’s a deal!” Terra gave him a smile and his heart leaped to see her happy again. “Oh… how did shopping with Blynn go?”
One of Hyren’s antennae twitched. “Oh. Right. About that.” With a grin, he lifted her into his arms and started down the beach with her. “Well, let’s just focus on getting home. I’ll fix us some dinner, how about that?” It still felt surreal. In less than eight hours he’d be short and blue again. This entire day would just seem like a long dream, fading with time. But he wanted to spend the rest of it with his family.
“Hyren…” Terra glared up at him suspiciously. “Did you leave Blynn to do the shopping herself?”
“So, what do you want for dinner? I’m thinking Honey and Bacon Burgers.”
“Hyren.”
“Ooh, with Fruit Tarts for dessert!”
“Hyren!”
It was a good day.
Rejection Letters - In this series of formal correspondences, King Jazan is determined to apologize to Princess Amira for the events of the Lost Desert Plot. Amira is determined to reject him every step of the way.
The Most Esteemed Princess Amira, Heiress of the Northern Kingdoms of Sakhmet, Sovereign of the Desert Winds,
It is with utmost and sincerest apology that I, King Jazan of Qasala, write to you to beg forgiveness for my utterly untoward acts in the last half of Year 7. I fully admit my uncouth forwardness in gaining audience with you through unscrupulous means and burdening you with my unpleasant conversation and brusque mannerisms. I have been made aware that you also dislike my eyeliner, a fact that, had I been aware of it before our untimely meeting, I would have acted upon with utmost haste.
I also apologize profusely for the other myriad inconveniences I put you through, including but not limited to: holding your entire city ransom in a dimension of mummified undead, attempting to force your hand in order to break a petty centuries-old curse upon my suffering kingdom, and unwittingly setting my malevolently insane father upon your fair city, resulting in its near destruction.
However, years have passed since these events and it is my sincere hope that we can both agree to put such misdemeanors behind us. As a token of my humble contrition, please accept the two hundred kilogrammes of finest Kiko Lake chocolate accompanying this letter, kept in unmelted and pristine condition for your enjoyment by precisely fifty-three Ice Motes which are also yours to keep. I must request the seventeen Elephante footmen return to Qasala, however, as Nabile has decided to rearrange the furniture in the arboretum.
Unpretentiously yours,
King Jazan of Qasala
***
King Jazan,
Your letter arrived at a most inopportune time, as it found me in the middle of re-drafting a treaty with Maraqua, discussing highly important trade agreements concerning Coral Cake imports. The Weewoo was promptly chastised, and then thrown back from whence it came. I kindly ask that in the future you train more competent delivery Petpets.
I also ask that you not take this reply as a proof of acceptance of your apology. I wish to have it firmly known, from henceforth, forever, and always, that I have never accepted anything from you, including bribery, threats, tacky rings, and dramatic entrances. This is a record I wish to remain standing. As a matter of fact, our correspondence has inspired me to commission an obelisk to be erected on the Sakhmet palace grounds that firmly states the previous in stone. I have also scheduled a ceremony to have added to my royal epithets the name “Eternal Repudiator” so there will no longer be any doubt on the matter.
The palace Seti found the chocolate to be decidedly not to their liking. One of them threw up in my sandal.
Regards of some temperature,
Princess Amira of Sakhmet
***
Most Gracious Princess Amira, Grand Commander of the Sakhmet Legion, Subduer of Sands, Empress of the Two Rivers,
I am quite sorry to hear about the unfortunate demise of so much expensive chocolate. I can only hope that at least some small whiff of its exquisite scent reached your regal nostrils. I do feel the need to point out that the chocolate was at Nabile’s suggestion, but I am rather loathe to blame her for any of my blunders in our correspondence. Chocolate, however, does seem to work much better on her. My greatest apologies if you happen to be allergic.
It is with renewed vigour and all due respect that I now write to invite you to a banquet in your honour in two weeks’ time. Please know that this is a most generous undertaking on my part, as I have a habit of eschewing such raucous social events, much to Nabile’s displeasure. For this feast, however, I have pulled out all of the figurative stops. My palace chefs are composing the menu and ordering goods from all over Neopia as I write this. Nabile has dipped rather deep into our treasury to obtain lavish décor and transform the entire palace into a fantasy the likes of which I doubt has been seen in the entire Lost Desert.
I have also invited many guests of utmost eminence, including Fyora, the entire Altadorian Council, the Emperor of Shenkuu and his daughters, and King Hagan. Care was taken to diplomatically avoid the invitation of other eminent Neopians whose etiquette I judge would offend your delicate sensibilities. You shall have no fear of running into King Skarl, King Roo, or any member of the Tyrannian Council at this event. Special precaution was undertaken to ensure that one Hanso is not even aware of the banquet. I can only hope that you have never had to endure meeting him, as he is more difficult to get rid of than a clingy Spardel. Based on my observations I believe he has about the same amount of brain capacity.
Hoping with all due continued penance to honour you there,
King Jazan of Qasala
***
King Jazan,
Once again your correspondence comes with unbelievably poor timing, as I was in the middle of a wonderfully fragrant bath. I am led to believe this is some sort of prank on your part. The royal person is not amused. Additionally, we are now employing the use of Meridellian trebuchets in gently launching your delivery Weewoos in a southward direction. I am sure they appreciate the complementary ride.
Considering how deliriously happy you were to barge into my throne room and put on a grand tantrum when escorted from my presence, I find it difficult to believe that you “have a habit of eschewing such raucous social events”, as you so quaintly put it. Were you bereft of attention as a child, perhaps?
I feel no regret in informing you that I cannot attend your banquet, as I have a most important appointment approaching and will be unavailable for the next three weeks. In my place, I shall send a pair of my representatives. Any king worth his salt would know that to treat royal representatives with respect is akin to deferring to the ruler herself. I look forward to your correspondence on how the evening proceeds.
Please do give Nabile my regards. She is a woman of incredible patience and composure. I feel that I owe her some form of communication once in a while, since she is my somethingth-cousin-thrice-removed.
Prithee, do not take that statement as permission to attend any of our family reunions.
With as much sincerity as I can muster,
Princess Amira of Sakhmet
***
Utterly Supernal Princess Amira, Flower of the Desert, Governess of the Floodwaters,
Last night’s banquet in your honour was nothing short of eventful, to say the least. I fully admit it would not have been the same in the absence of your two esteemed representatives, those debonair nobles, Advisor Wessle and Senator Palpus.
On an unrelated note, it would be ever so kind of you to ask your palace apothecaries if they know any effective migraine remedies.
You asked for a report of the evening’s proceedings and I am all too happy to deliver. Perhaps it is fortunate that you did not attend, after all, as Hanso somehow managed to gain entrance despite my orders to the palace guards to firmly detain all blue Ixi thieves. Due to some grace of the Faeries, however, he only spent a mere two hours bothering me and then moved on to hobnob with Advisor Wessle. The two were inseparable for the rest of the evening, engaging in such delightful activities as whispering furtively in shadowy corners, cutting unscrupulous deals with the other guests, and attempting to arrange at least five coups and three assassinations.
I was assured by Wessle that this is perfectly normal Sakmetian party fare.
On further thought, perhaps it is fortuitous that we did not join our kingdoms.
Senator Palpus, meanwhile, made himself immediately known as a combination gourmand and performance artist as he proceeded to devour an entire table of hors d’oeuvres over the course of ten seconds. It was truly a sight I do not think I shall ever be able to forget. And I did try to.
This feat, however, paled in comparison to the gastronomic accomplishments he achieved during the banquet proper, when he demonstrated for us all his ability to consume seventeen glasses of Spicy Fruit Punch, six whole Qando Pizzas, two Aubergine Casseroles, and the entirety of the Jazan Cake which Nabile prepared from scratch that morning, with only minor indigestive agony following.
The evening was rendered further exciting when Wessle decided to take his compatriot’s bellows of discomfort for an assassination attempt, and proceeded to question each one of us in turn in a lengthy interrogation session wherein we were required to remember exactly what we ate and how much. We were also tasked with determining which bad habit of ours most annoyed Palpus, who by this point had passed out and was unavailable for questioning. It was quite an introspective event for all. On my part, I had no idea that Nabile has no qualms about using the peanut butter knife for the jam. This at least explains the chunks of peanut I keep finding on my toast in the mornings.
As for myself, Nabile has informed me that my snoring sounds like a violently ill Noil.
Still hoping for some small pittance of forgiveness,
King Jazan of Qasala
***
King Jazan,
I am most displeased to hear of the utter disrespect you showed my representatives last night. I wish I could say that your lack of decorum comes as a disappointment to me, but I have long since learned to set my expectations low.
Also note that from henceforth, all correspondence bearing your seal will be used as kindling, unopened. One must do what one can to keep heating costs low. We are confident you understand. In other news, we here at Sakhmet are now considering taking up Weewoo-launching as a national sport.
Returning to the subject of your faux pas, I am aghast at your lack of education concerning Sakhmetian deportment. If you had but done your research, you would have discovered that murder mysteries are a key ritual during the royal banquets of our culture. Dear Advisor Wessle was simply doing his best to adhere to the proper protocol during such an illustrious event. He cannot be faulted for your terrible snoring habits.
As for Palpus, I am sure he will be grievously insulted when he discovers your words concerning him. A faithful servant of the state since my father’s reign, Palpus in fact suffers from a medical condition he simply cannot control. Diagnosis of gluttony is a serious matter, and yet you have made light of it, suggesting I sent him as entertainment and making other disparaging remarks toward his rather considerable person. If I had wished to present you with amusement, I would have done so in the form of poisoned Geopeppers and dagger-throwing dancers.
With this letter I firmly request that you do not reply. Your silence shall be response enough for my busy schedule and overburdened working days. I do not know what sort of frivolity you partake in over in Qasala, but we in Sakhmet have no time for these sorts of trivialities.
As a last token of condescension, I will do you the favor of recommending the Royal Surfpoint Resort on Mystery Island’s South Shore for your next vacation. The accommodations have been nothing short of sublime, and the service top-notch. Nabile should find the Mango Crab Salad especially delicious, and she should not skip out on the beachfront massage and pedicure treatment.
Concerned as ever about the future of your kingdom,
Princess Amira of Sakhmet
It is with utmost and sincerest apology that I, King Jazan of Qasala, write to you to beg forgiveness for my utterly untoward acts in the last half of Year 7. I fully admit my uncouth forwardness in gaining audience with you through unscrupulous means and burdening you with my unpleasant conversation and brusque mannerisms. I have been made aware that you also dislike my eyeliner, a fact that, had I been aware of it before our untimely meeting, I would have acted upon with utmost haste.
I also apologize profusely for the other myriad inconveniences I put you through, including but not limited to: holding your entire city ransom in a dimension of mummified undead, attempting to force your hand in order to break a petty centuries-old curse upon my suffering kingdom, and unwittingly setting my malevolently insane father upon your fair city, resulting in its near destruction.
However, years have passed since these events and it is my sincere hope that we can both agree to put such misdemeanors behind us. As a token of my humble contrition, please accept the two hundred kilogrammes of finest Kiko Lake chocolate accompanying this letter, kept in unmelted and pristine condition for your enjoyment by precisely fifty-three Ice Motes which are also yours to keep. I must request the seventeen Elephante footmen return to Qasala, however, as Nabile has decided to rearrange the furniture in the arboretum.
Unpretentiously yours,
King Jazan of Qasala
***
King Jazan,
Your letter arrived at a most inopportune time, as it found me in the middle of re-drafting a treaty with Maraqua, discussing highly important trade agreements concerning Coral Cake imports. The Weewoo was promptly chastised, and then thrown back from whence it came. I kindly ask that in the future you train more competent delivery Petpets.
I also ask that you not take this reply as a proof of acceptance of your apology. I wish to have it firmly known, from henceforth, forever, and always, that I have never accepted anything from you, including bribery, threats, tacky rings, and dramatic entrances. This is a record I wish to remain standing. As a matter of fact, our correspondence has inspired me to commission an obelisk to be erected on the Sakhmet palace grounds that firmly states the previous in stone. I have also scheduled a ceremony to have added to my royal epithets the name “Eternal Repudiator” so there will no longer be any doubt on the matter.
The palace Seti found the chocolate to be decidedly not to their liking. One of them threw up in my sandal.
Regards of some temperature,
Princess Amira of Sakhmet
***
Most Gracious Princess Amira, Grand Commander of the Sakhmet Legion, Subduer of Sands, Empress of the Two Rivers,
I am quite sorry to hear about the unfortunate demise of so much expensive chocolate. I can only hope that at least some small whiff of its exquisite scent reached your regal nostrils. I do feel the need to point out that the chocolate was at Nabile’s suggestion, but I am rather loathe to blame her for any of my blunders in our correspondence. Chocolate, however, does seem to work much better on her. My greatest apologies if you happen to be allergic.
It is with renewed vigour and all due respect that I now write to invite you to a banquet in your honour in two weeks’ time. Please know that this is a most generous undertaking on my part, as I have a habit of eschewing such raucous social events, much to Nabile’s displeasure. For this feast, however, I have pulled out all of the figurative stops. My palace chefs are composing the menu and ordering goods from all over Neopia as I write this. Nabile has dipped rather deep into our treasury to obtain lavish décor and transform the entire palace into a fantasy the likes of which I doubt has been seen in the entire Lost Desert.
I have also invited many guests of utmost eminence, including Fyora, the entire Altadorian Council, the Emperor of Shenkuu and his daughters, and King Hagan. Care was taken to diplomatically avoid the invitation of other eminent Neopians whose etiquette I judge would offend your delicate sensibilities. You shall have no fear of running into King Skarl, King Roo, or any member of the Tyrannian Council at this event. Special precaution was undertaken to ensure that one Hanso is not even aware of the banquet. I can only hope that you have never had to endure meeting him, as he is more difficult to get rid of than a clingy Spardel. Based on my observations I believe he has about the same amount of brain capacity.
Hoping with all due continued penance to honour you there,
King Jazan of Qasala
***
King Jazan,
Once again your correspondence comes with unbelievably poor timing, as I was in the middle of a wonderfully fragrant bath. I am led to believe this is some sort of prank on your part. The royal person is not amused. Additionally, we are now employing the use of Meridellian trebuchets in gently launching your delivery Weewoos in a southward direction. I am sure they appreciate the complementary ride.
Considering how deliriously happy you were to barge into my throne room and put on a grand tantrum when escorted from my presence, I find it difficult to believe that you “have a habit of eschewing such raucous social events”, as you so quaintly put it. Were you bereft of attention as a child, perhaps?
I feel no regret in informing you that I cannot attend your banquet, as I have a most important appointment approaching and will be unavailable for the next three weeks. In my place, I shall send a pair of my representatives. Any king worth his salt would know that to treat royal representatives with respect is akin to deferring to the ruler herself. I look forward to your correspondence on how the evening proceeds.
Please do give Nabile my regards. She is a woman of incredible patience and composure. I feel that I owe her some form of communication once in a while, since she is my somethingth-cousin-thrice-removed.
Prithee, do not take that statement as permission to attend any of our family reunions.
With as much sincerity as I can muster,
Princess Amira of Sakhmet
***
Utterly Supernal Princess Amira, Flower of the Desert, Governess of the Floodwaters,
Last night’s banquet in your honour was nothing short of eventful, to say the least. I fully admit it would not have been the same in the absence of your two esteemed representatives, those debonair nobles, Advisor Wessle and Senator Palpus.
On an unrelated note, it would be ever so kind of you to ask your palace apothecaries if they know any effective migraine remedies.
You asked for a report of the evening’s proceedings and I am all too happy to deliver. Perhaps it is fortunate that you did not attend, after all, as Hanso somehow managed to gain entrance despite my orders to the palace guards to firmly detain all blue Ixi thieves. Due to some grace of the Faeries, however, he only spent a mere two hours bothering me and then moved on to hobnob with Advisor Wessle. The two were inseparable for the rest of the evening, engaging in such delightful activities as whispering furtively in shadowy corners, cutting unscrupulous deals with the other guests, and attempting to arrange at least five coups and three assassinations.
I was assured by Wessle that this is perfectly normal Sakmetian party fare.
On further thought, perhaps it is fortuitous that we did not join our kingdoms.
Senator Palpus, meanwhile, made himself immediately known as a combination gourmand and performance artist as he proceeded to devour an entire table of hors d’oeuvres over the course of ten seconds. It was truly a sight I do not think I shall ever be able to forget. And I did try to.
This feat, however, paled in comparison to the gastronomic accomplishments he achieved during the banquet proper, when he demonstrated for us all his ability to consume seventeen glasses of Spicy Fruit Punch, six whole Qando Pizzas, two Aubergine Casseroles, and the entirety of the Jazan Cake which Nabile prepared from scratch that morning, with only minor indigestive agony following.
The evening was rendered further exciting when Wessle decided to take his compatriot’s bellows of discomfort for an assassination attempt, and proceeded to question each one of us in turn in a lengthy interrogation session wherein we were required to remember exactly what we ate and how much. We were also tasked with determining which bad habit of ours most annoyed Palpus, who by this point had passed out and was unavailable for questioning. It was quite an introspective event for all. On my part, I had no idea that Nabile has no qualms about using the peanut butter knife for the jam. This at least explains the chunks of peanut I keep finding on my toast in the mornings.
As for myself, Nabile has informed me that my snoring sounds like a violently ill Noil.
Still hoping for some small pittance of forgiveness,
King Jazan of Qasala
***
King Jazan,
I am most displeased to hear of the utter disrespect you showed my representatives last night. I wish I could say that your lack of decorum comes as a disappointment to me, but I have long since learned to set my expectations low.
Also note that from henceforth, all correspondence bearing your seal will be used as kindling, unopened. One must do what one can to keep heating costs low. We are confident you understand. In other news, we here at Sakhmet are now considering taking up Weewoo-launching as a national sport.
Returning to the subject of your faux pas, I am aghast at your lack of education concerning Sakhmetian deportment. If you had but done your research, you would have discovered that murder mysteries are a key ritual during the royal banquets of our culture. Dear Advisor Wessle was simply doing his best to adhere to the proper protocol during such an illustrious event. He cannot be faulted for your terrible snoring habits.
As for Palpus, I am sure he will be grievously insulted when he discovers your words concerning him. A faithful servant of the state since my father’s reign, Palpus in fact suffers from a medical condition he simply cannot control. Diagnosis of gluttony is a serious matter, and yet you have made light of it, suggesting I sent him as entertainment and making other disparaging remarks toward his rather considerable person. If I had wished to present you with amusement, I would have done so in the form of poisoned Geopeppers and dagger-throwing dancers.
With this letter I firmly request that you do not reply. Your silence shall be response enough for my busy schedule and overburdened working days. I do not know what sort of frivolity you partake in over in Qasala, but we in Sakhmet have no time for these sorts of trivialities.
As a last token of condescension, I will do you the favor of recommending the Royal Surfpoint Resort on Mystery Island’s South Shore for your next vacation. The accommodations have been nothing short of sublime, and the service top-notch. Nabile should find the Mango Crab Salad especially delicious, and she should not skip out on the beachfront massage and pedicure treatment.
Concerned as ever about the future of your kingdom,
Princess Amira of Sakhmet
Mostly this was intended to be a silly one-shot exploring an interesting possibility, but I see what you mean about no mention of the events in Worth Fighting For. I'll fix that and the other stuff you mentioned. 
