Hawkins laid down his pen, leaning back from
his desk contently. After nine straight grueling hours of writing, working through
the night into the morning, he'd finally finished it - his very first article!
Six pages of pure unadulterated genius - a splendid article on how to get rich
quick (something which Hawkins was sure no one had ever thought to write about
before) which he was sure would be accepted.
Dark circles beneath his eyes, the green Kyrii
wondered out from his bedroom into the main living room of the apartment he
shared with a certain red Lenny.
Speaking of the Pant Devil, there he is now!
Lennert stood in the middle of their kitchenette,
obviously (making an attempt at) cooking breakfast. When the Kyrii walked out,
he turned, smiling wildly. "Morning, Hawkins! Sleep well?"
Hawkins, too content to worry about why his roommate
was so darn cheery, or why he was cooking breakfast again, just smiled back,
sleepily. "Oh, I didn't sleep at all! But I'll tell you what I did do-"
"Save the world?!"
"Oh… 'cause if you had saved the world, man that
would've been so cool!"
"… I finished my article…"
Lennert's shoulders slumped. "Oh… saving the
world from destruction would've been so much cooler…"
Hawkins shook his head, slightly dumbstruck.
"Okay, Lennert… well, I'm sorry that completing my first article isn't cool
enough for you…"
Lennert looked up, a bit cheered. "Don't worry
pal, I forgive you!!" Lennert looked down at his feet, then glanced back up
at his roommate. "Oh, guess what I did!"
Hawkins, who now stood right in the middle of
the room, shrugged, his sense of great joy now gone, replaced with a sense of
dread at what could be sitting at the Lenny's feet. "It doesn't have to do with
blowing anything up, does it?..."
"Not this time!" Lennert ducked down behind the
counter, emerging a few seconds later with a pack-type thing strapped to his
back, an attached hose and nozzle in his wing. "Watch!"
Lennert pointed the nozzle into mid-air, pulling
the trigger. Out of the end shot a huge jet of orange and red flame, illuminating
the whole room in its glow. Lennert laughed hysterically as he swung the whip
of fire from side to side, finally letting off the trigger. "Impressed?"
Hawkins, who had been standing perfectly still
in the middle of the room, just shook his head, more annoyed than surprised.
"Somehow, I have a feeling this will end with something blowing up…"
Lennert just grinned, all-knowing. "This is the
best idea I've ever had - I'm saving us Neopoints! Think about it: this thing
can do everything that the rest of our kitchen appliances can, all in one and
faster, too! It'll save us so much time and money, it'd be stupid not
to buy a high-powered flame-thrower!"
As if to demonstrate his new toy's capabilities,
Lennert grabbed two slices of toast off the counter and threw them up, torching
them in mid-air. As they fell back, the Lenny expertly caught them on a plate.
The pieces of toast were burned to delectable, tasty black crisp.
Lennert spun on his heel to face - an empty living
room. "Hawkins... Hawkins?... Hello, anyone there?" The Lenny sighed, slouching
his shoulders sadly. "Everyone always runs away from me…"
Neopian Times HQ
Hawkins sat at his desk, anxiously twirling a
pen in his paw and clicking it in and out. He had left his article on Brintle's
desk a few hours before, and now there was nothing left to do but sit and wait…
…and, well, you get it, right?
At the sound of his name, the spring Hawkins
had been sitting on finally snapped. In an anxious surprise, Hawkins tossed
the pen he had been holding behind him, where it flew through the air…
A Few Desks Behind
A certain green Pteri had been sitting at his
own little Pteri desk, minding his own little Pteri business when it happened…
"Boy, I sure hope I don't get hit with a pen
today! 'Cause if I did…"
Just then, a large black pen came flying through
the air, hitting the Pteri on the head and lodging itself between his eyes like
"Oh, come on!" he shouted in aggravation. "This
is just so wrong! I… hmmm… hey!" He looked around, sneakily, then smiled to
himself. "Boy, I sure hope I don't get hit with a giant cake!"
Another pen came from somewhere off to the side,
stabbing him in the eye.
"Ahhh!" he cried, holding his eye in pain. "Now
come on! I just wanted some cake! I would've even settled for a single slice!"
"Hmmm…" thought Hawkins, as he turned
to close the office door, "I sure hope I didn't hit anyone with that pen…"
"Hotcakes," began his white Blumaroo of a boss,
walking around all important-like to his side of the desk, "I've realized recently
that the quality of the 'Times has been… well, slipping…"
Hawkins looked around, a little confused. It
seemed as if his boss was always dragging him into his office, as if the Kyrii
was some kind of assistant… and assistant to the Assistant Editor… did that
make Hawkins the "Assistant Assistant Editor"? Did he get paid extra for this?...
"Like this for example!" continued Brintle, holding
up a rather familiar six-page article. "I don't know who wrote this piece of
filth, but I'll tell you, it's a good thing they forgot to sign their name!"
Hawkins let out a small gulp. The article his
boss was holding looked oddly familiar - as it should! It was the same article
Hawkins had finished just a mere few hours ago! "Ummm, was it really that bad,
Brintle's eyes widened, serious as a certain
cardiovascular dysfunction "'That bad'?! Hawkins you don't understand - this
wasn't just bad. This was deadly bad! I'm talking 'someone please gouge
my eyes out bad' bad! I'm talking 'I have no will to live anymore' bad! Hawkins,
this article should never be read by living eyes."
Brintle balled his paws into fists. "And if I
ever find who wrote this article, I'll cut off their hands, making sure they
never subject the world to such terrible torture again!" With that, Brintle
threw the papers into the trash bucket next to his desk.
Hawkins let out another gulp. Had he been wearing
a shirt, he would have tugged at it in a very cartoon-like fashion.
"So," Brintle went on, failing to notice Hawkins'
nervousness, "I've decided to bring in a professional - someone who actually
knows how to write stuff, to teach everyone here the ins and outs of writing
something that doesn't make me want to puke. His name is-"
Before the Blumaroo could finish, a shrill fan-girlish
scream came from outside the office. "Oh my gosh! HE'S HERE!"
Hawkins and Brintle threw the office door open
and rushed out into the marble-floored lobby, where they soon discovered the
reason for the scream - and what a reason it was!
Through the glass double doors stepped a truly
fine piece of boy. For shoes, the young man, about 14 in human years, wore sweet
black tennis shoes, covered at the tongues by low hanging blue jeans. He wore
a white shirt and leather jacket for a top; simple, yet so manly and rugged.
He wore thick, black, uber-mysterious sunglasses; his hair, wild and untamed
in all its dirty blonde-ness. Surely like the person under it.
"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" a nearby
Cybunny panted, gasping for air. "I can't believe he's here -- in the very same
room as me!" another Usul next to her squealed. Next to her, a young female
Zafara simply passed out.
The boy strutted up to the reception desk and,
removing his glasses, let wild a charming grin as he introduced himself. "The
name's dy… Buddy."
"Wow!" commented a nearby voice. "That is one
very attractive person!"
Hawkins spun around - and gagged. "Mister Brintle?!"
"What?!" the Blumaroo shrugged. "He is!"
A charming, yet-still-cool smile on his face,
the young man made his way over to where Hawkins and Brintle stood, holding
out his hand to shake the latter's. "And you must be Mister Brintle," he noted,
his voice cool and crisp like cold fried chicken. And I'm talkin' "extra crispy"
-- none of that "original recipe" junk.
"Hotkins, this is Buddy! He'll be working with
everyone for a while, helping us turn out real pieces of literature."
"Hotkins" looked at the boy apprehensively. "So,
does that mean he's a good writer?"
"Oh, heck no! He's just the only one who would
do it for free!"
Buddy smiled goofily. "Court-ordered community
service. I, umm…" He coughed. "…did some stuff…"
Brintle clasped his hands on both of their shoulders.
"Well, I bet you two have a million things to talk about! What, with both of
you being writers and all-" He stopped, looking down at Hawkins. "Well, with
one of you being a writer, anyway."
Hawkins could only look across his tiny, cluttered
desk at the boy, the one they called "Buddy". They had been sitting like this
for the last 20 minutes, all in a long, awkward silence.
Hawkins cleared his throat.
Buddy tapped his shoe lightly on the floor.
Hawkins tapped his pen on the desk.
"Ummm…" stuttered Hawkins, determined to finally
break the uncomfortable silence, "so… you're a writer, huh?.."
Buddy looked back at him, his face bored. "Yep."
"Uhh… write anything good lately?..."
Buddy shrugged. "Well, actually, I came up with
a great idea for a story. It's about a Kyrii and Lenny who live together in
an apartment. I'm thinking of calling it 'Lawkins and Hennert'!" He moved his
hand in the air as he said the title, as if spelling it out. "What do ya think?"
"Sounds oddly familiar…"
"Well," ended Buddy, pushing away from the table,
"this has been a great conversation, but I'm gonna go see what Mister Brintle's
up to." He shot Hawkins a wink, slipped the glasses over his eyes and wandered
off to find Brintle, doing a super-cool disco strut all the way.
Brintle's Office (yes, again)
Hawkins (or "Hotkins"… or "Hotcakes"… or whatever
Brintle was soon to call our little green Kyrii) walked into the office, immediately
catching sight of Mister Brintle and Buddy sitting at the desk; Buddy in front,
"Come in, Hotcake!" (Oh! How did I know! Man,
I'm good!) Brintle waved, motioning for the reporter to take a seat next to
his teenage counterpart. "Buddy was just showing me what he's got - just imagine!
Been here just a few hours and he's already got something written!"
Before Hawkins could take his seat, he noticed
an article sitting on Brinte's desk - a rather familiar-looking article about
how to become rich!
"But… but… Mister Brintle, that's the same article
you saw this morning! You said it was terrible!"
Brintle looked down at the article, then back
up at Hawkins, shaking his head. "Now Hotcakes, I'd know if this were the very
same article. Do you think I'm stupid or something?"
"Mister Brintle, I know for a fact that's the
very same article - I WROTE IT!!"
The Blumaroo scowled, looking back at Hawkins,
annoyed. "Hotcakes! I would've thought better than you! Trying to take credit
for poor, ole' Buddy's work!" He motioned to Buddy sitting across from him,
who was now putting on a pathetic puppy dog-eyes face. And… was that a tear
that just rolled down his face?! "I'm ashamed!" continued Brintle. "I think
you should leave before I get really mad and throw my shoe at you!"
"But Mister Brintle-"
"That's it - the shoe's coming off!"
"But you don't wear shoes!"
Brintle stuck his arm at length, pointing angrily
towards the door and shouting. "Out!"
Well, what else was there to do?
As the sun began to set over Neopia Central,
Hawkins sat stretched out on a lawn chair on the roof of their apartment building,
fuming to Lennert, who was playing around with his new "toy".
"That ignorant piece of… of… ignorance!" the
Kyrii fumed, clenching his paws into fists! "I can't believe he did that!
But I bet this isn't the first time - I bet he's stolen every piece he's ever
Lennert, as it always seemed to be, was off in
his own little world. "Hawkins, check this out! If I turn this knob, I can make
the flames bigger!" He showed this be clicking the knob a few spaces to the
side and waving the huge jet of flame, now about five feet in length around,
laughing hysterically. "Hahaha! Die Weewoos, die! Die! Die Di - uh oh! I hit
"You know what? I bet he didn't even come up
with that story about a Kyrii and a Lenny living together on his own! I bet
he stole that one, too!"
"Oh man, this is bad!" Lennert picked up the
petpet's remains, glanced around to see if anyone was around, then turned and
heaved the Weewoo's body over the side of the building.
"I can't just him get away with this!" resolved
Hawkins, who hadn't even noticed the atrocity his friend had just committed.
"I've got to find a way to get back at him! To make him really pay!"
"Whatcha gonna do?" asked Lennert, dusting off
his wings and making his was over to a second lawn chair of his own.
Hawkins broke into a devious smile, eyes flashing
devilishly. "I think I know just how to get back at that thieving… err, thief!
Lennert, you up for some god old-fashion vandalism?"
Lennert shrugged. "Do I get to wear a nifty black
"…If you want…"
Lennert grinned. "I'm in!"
Later that night…
Hawkins and Lennert stood across the street from
their target's house… or one should say, mansion. It sat in the middle of Neopian
Central, in the center of a perfectly pedicured lawn, surrounded by a ten-foot
wall of hedges. The only way in was through a locked iron gate.
Both pets stood dressed in classy, yet cheesy
black thief garments along with matching backpacks of supplies. "Ready?" asked
Hawkins, glancing across to Lennert. The Lenny nodded vigorously. "I was born
The two ran across the street to the gate. Reaching
into his backpack, Hawkins pulled out a rope with a grappling hook attached
to the end. "Okay, Lennert," he explained, "I'll throw this over the fence.
Then, when I'm over you can - Lennert?" Hawkins looked behind to find his roommate
"Over here!" the Kyrii looked back to see his
partner-in-crime standing on the other side of the fence. "But… but… how'd you
get over there?!" Hawkins stammered.
Lennert shrugged. "Just walk through the hedgerows."
"But…aren't there walls or something?"
"Nah, this guy's an idiot!" The Lenny turned
to make his up the driveway, with Hawkins following through the hedges.
Across the lawn and up to the porch, they came
to the front door. Hawkins again reached into his backpack, this time pulling
out a large, thin knife - a glass cutter.
"Why don't we just try the front door?"
"Lennert, no one is stupid enough to leave the
front door un-" The Kyrii was immediately silenced as Lennert simply turned
the handle and let the door slide inwards. Hawkins shook his head, flabbergasted.
"Man, you were right - this guy really is stupid!"
Quietly, the two slipped into the foyer, made
a right and crept down the hallway, through some double-doors, and finally,
into their true destination - Buddy's Trophy Room.
"Okay," instructed Hawkins, putting his pack
back to the ground and digging for a hammer, "you take half of them, and I'll
take half. You don't have to completely destroy the trophy, just mess it up
enough so that it's hard to tell what it is."
Lennert set his pack on the ground but, instead
of pulling out a hammer he pulled out something much larger - an industrial-power
Seeing it, Hawkins just shook his head. "Now,
I know you brought that along for good luck…"
Lennert smiled, all knowing. "Like I said, this
thing does stuff ten-times faster - including vandalizing and destroying trophies!"
Without another word, Lennert flipped on the
flamethrower, its huge orange flame spraying across the wall. Lennert waved
the blazing pillar around, making sure to torch the entire wall. After a few
seconds, he let off the switch, smiling at Hawkins as the wall burned to a crisp
Hawkins watched, unimpressed. He was made even
less impressed when sparks started jumping from the trophy wall to the two connecting
walls, the carpet, and ceiling, setting them ablaze as well. Within thirty seconds,
two thirds of the room was burning. "Hmmm…" wondered Lennert, noticing the room
going up in flames around him, "this is rather unplanned for…"
"Okay, let's go!" Hawkins grabbed his pyromaniac
partner's wing and began dragging him to the door. At the door, the Kyrii glanced
back to the flamethrower still attached to Lennert's back. "The torch stays."
"No!" Lennert shouted over the roaring flames.
"I wasted good money on this thing!"
"That flamethrower is staying in this room -
whether you're attached to it or not is your choice!"
Unwillingly, Lennert tossed the flamethrower
into the inferno and followed Hawkins outside…
Outside (where else?)
The two amateur vandals rushed outside on to
the large front lawn, where Hawkins stopped to glance back at the house. The
fire had spread, engulfing the entire room and threatening to consume the whole
"You know, I just thought of something," Hawkins
pointed out in his usual calm, matter-of-fact way. "When we threw that flamethrower
into the fire, it was full of fuel…" He sighed, shaking his head sadly at his
conclusion. "I figure right about now the flames should be eating through the
"You know," noted Lennert, smiling slightly,
"if we had listened to me and taken the flamethrower with us, that would've
"Oh, shut up!"
From Across the Street
Hawkins and Lennert sat on the bench, watching
the mayhem that had erupted at Buddy's mansion. Chia firefighters were trying
desperately, albeit futilely, to put out the inferno, which by now had swallowed
up the entire house and was burning it to the ground. But judging by how the
hose was spraying wildly in the air with two Chias hanging on for dear life,
it didn't seem to be going well.
"I think I recall saying somewhere that this
would end with something blowing up," Hawkins pointed out.
"Well," Lennert replied, "at least we accomplished
"Yeah, I suppose… Though, I was kind of hoping
that we could do this without, you know, burning Buddy's house to the ground…."
"You always have to complain, don't you!" shouted
Lennert. "It's never enough to just get revenge on someone -- we have to do
it without burning their house to the ground! Can't you just be happy
with the status-quo?!"
"You know, he'll probably never write again.."
Lennert shrugged, getting up to leave. "It's
not like he wrote that well to begin with."
That Lennert sure does have a point there.