You'd be surprised how many things go on in Neopia without
anyone realising it's happening. Rarely are these things exposed, and even more
rarely do these things come to an end. I happened to be fortunate (or unfortunate,
depending on how you look at it) enough to encounter one of these underground
establishments.
I had just purchased some denim coveralls to
wear while working in the garden when I noticed what seemed to be a lowly Babaa
stumbling along. "Poor thing," I thought and ran across the street to meet it
at the corner. You could imagine my surprise when I realised that though it
was indeed a Babaa, it had... well... no wool. I knelt down and rubbed its oddly
smooth back, tempted to take it home as it stared mournfully at me.
"I wonder where you came from..." I said to
myself and, as if it understood me, the petpet leapt up and began to make its
way through an alley. Before I knew it, I was following the Babaa through a
damp, narrow passage that reeked of rotten apples. The Babaa, which I had fondly
renamed Lori in my mind, stopped abruptly at a pile of of soggy cardboard boxes.
"Why'd we stop here?" I asked her, and she pawed
at the heap, bleating anxiously.
"All right, all right... " Taking a deep breath
and gagging immediately afterwards, I pushed and shoved. After a few minutes,
the boxes lay at my feet, with several unidentified substances leaking out of
them. In front of me now was a small door covered with scratch marks. Lori began
to whimper again.
"Don't worry..." I patted her head reassuringly.
I turned the rusty knob and prepared to step into the unknown when I slipped
on a puddle of spilt juice. Talk about graceful. I fell face forward through
the doorway and landed in a mound of... wool? Where was I? Lori came rushing
in behind me and landed safely. I rolled off the fleece and helped Lori to the
ground. She was shivering, though it wasn't cold. In fact, it was rather warm.
And I thought I could hear something. I paused and put a finger to my lips,
signaling to Lori to stay quiet. Yes, there was something making noise. It sounded
like gears turning. How very strange. There was barely any light in the room
and all I could see were faint outlines of everything, mainly the wool, Lori,
and various parts of my body. I made my way to another door and pressed my ear
against it.
"Get to shearing, you lazy lumps! What's takin'
so long? Time is money, so don't go wasting any of mine!"
I didn't understand what I was hearing. Who
was that?
"What?! I see fuzz on this thing! Who did this?
You! Get over here! Did you think you'd get away with this? I'm dockin' your
pay -- for two months! Now get back to work, you good for nothin' fool!"
I whipped out my notebook from my back pocket
and the pencil that had kept my hair knotted and scribbled down the dialogue
I was overhearing. Suddenly, I heard loud creaking. I barely had time to think
before the wood gave and once again, I was sprawled on the ground. I heard silence.
"Ugh..." I groaned and hoisted myself up, slipping
my notebook back into my pocket. I took a step back when I saw a crowd of people,
all dressed in black, holding clippers and shears. Behind them was simple machinery
that included a conveyor belt and automated looms.
"Well, well, what have we here?" An average-sized
green Quiggle with an oily black moustache stood in front of me tapping his
shined leather boot.
"Oh, your average female, black hair, brown
eyes. I love moonlight walks on the beach --"
"You're somewhat amusing, for someone who just
got caught spying." He twirled his whiskers and raised his eyebrow.
"Thank you for noticing. And you're somewhat
tasteless, for someone who can afford that tuxedo." As I distracted him with
my harmless, but everlasting rambles, I took in the view. Near the programmed
looms were, holy asparagus, crates of Babaas. They still had their wool
but were crammed into little containers, whimpering. I hated to imagine what
had happened to the ones that already had been sheared. I doubted they all ended
up like Lori. I stuck my hands into my coat pockets.
"I have to give you credit for trying."
He smirked and crossed his arms, apparently
pleased with himself.
"My patience."
He scowled and motioned for a few concealed
members of his troop to come forward.
First thought: Uh-oh. Second thought: Light
bulb!
"Er, wait!"
Funnily enough, they did.
"What is it now?" The Quiggle dusted off imaginary
lint from his suit impatiently and checked his watch.
"I have a proposition for you." I said this
smoothly, pretending I was completely at ease. Movement from the corner of my
eye caught my attention. Lori, brave little thing she was, had crept over to
the imprisoned Babaas and was working on setting them free.
"Well, what is this proposition?"
I had to get the dirt on him, and fast. "Before
I tell you, I have to know a few things about this underground corporation of
yours. Do you run it?"
"Why, yes, I do." He preened his moustache and
puffed out his chest proudly.
"Where do you get all the Babaas?" As I asked
hastily thought of questions, I was hoping Lori would get out the petpets in
time. "What exactly is the idea behind all this?"
"Oh, that's easy enough." The Quiggle launched
into a long speech that started with his birth into an aristocratic family and
ended with his plans for world domination.
"And exactly how are you going to achieve world
domination by shearing innocent Babaas?"
"Ah, see, that is where my genius truly shines!
Who would expect me, a highly respected Neopet, and a seemingly harmless Quiggle
at that to have thought of this? I simply shear all the Babaas of Neopia, use
their wool to make fabric, and send that to all the Neopian clothing stores!
After I become rich--"
"Aren't you already rich?"
"Don't interrupt," he said crossly. "I'll be
able to... erm... uh...."
It looked like this Quiggle wasn't all that
he seemed. "You don't know what you're going to do with all the money you make?"
"Of course I know!" He glanced about him nervously,
as the group began to murmur and stir. "I just don't want to tell you, that's
all!"
"Sure. Okay, you don't want to tell me. Why
don't one of you tell me?" I directed this question to the workers and they
shook their heads and whispered among themselves.
The Quiggle began to fidget and fiddle with
his moustache
"You never did tell us what the plan was," one
of them spoke up.
"Well, I-I umm... Don't listen to her! She's
only trying to confuse you!"
To them, I didn't exist any more. I looked over
to see how Lori was doing. Not only had she broken the locks; she had also herded
all the Babaas out through a backdoor.
"No, no, no!" he shouted desperately. "Go do
what you're told for once! Go after her before she gets away, get her--"
His employees began to move forward, surrounding
him, accusing him in low, harsh voices.
Making my way around the crowd, I gathered my
shopping bag and Lori and ran out the exit. I left the Quiggle's fellow criminals,
who had been kept in the dark, to take care of him.
Babaas were now scattered across the marketplace.
Neopians of all kinds were picking them up, cuddling them and preparing to take
their new-found petpets to their home. The Babaas were free, I had my gardening
supplies, and a new piece for the Times. All was right in the world.
I looked down at Lori. "Don't worry," I said,
kneeling down to pat her. "I'm going to expose that place. They're not off the
hook."
Lori looked up at me as if to say, "How are
you going to do that?"
I simply grinned and took my hands out my pocket.
In my right hand I held a tape recorder. I pressed the stop button.
My fellow writers, if your pencil breaks or
your pen runs out of ink, where are you going to get without a tape recorder?
The End | 
