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The Fate of the Futon

by syprodrgon2


Sam the Scorchio was a salesman.

     It was his job to casually walk around the store, being friendly and helpful, asking customers how they were doing or if they needed anything. It was all a fa├žade, of course, used to make the customers feel that he really cared, though all he was really interested in was his paycheck at the end of the day. If the customer did need something, even if they just wanted to know where the restroom was, Sam would offhandedly point out one of the store's most expensive items, all the while trying to convince them that by buying it they would be getting a great deal.

     Sam knew some of the practices there were against Neopian law, but he liked his job anyway. It was easy, it paid well, and he was good at it. His smile alone made him appear to be the friendliest of guys; one who would do anything for your well-being. He was perfect for the job.

     It was an average day in the middle of July, and Sam was making his usual rounds around the store.

     "Hello, miss," he said in his neighborly voice to an Elephante as she peered down at a horrendously ugly yellow dress with humongously absurd green polka dots all over it. "That's quite a lovely dress. Are you in need of any assistance?"

     "Oh," said the Elephante, turning around to look at him. "Thank you so much. I was just wondering how much this bee-U-teeful dress costs?"

     It was a policy in the store that nothing had a price tag. Apparently no customer had realized that this policy was made for the sole purpose that Sam or his employer Max could make up any price they wanted on the spot, depending on how gullible the customer looked. It was an incredibly greedy thing to do, but it worked.

     "7,000 NP," said Sam, knowing that it would probably cost 700 anywhere else. "It's on sale."

     "Oh, it's on sale! That's great, I'll take it!"

     The Elephante opened her purse, checking to see if she had enoug--


     Sam looked to his left. His boss, Max, was glaring at him.

     "Excuse me miss, I'll be right back."

     He walked over to his manager. "Is there a problem?"

     "Is there a PROBLEM?!" he said, yelling in a whisper. "Do you not HEAR that obnoxious Aisha?! She's scaring all the customers away!"

     Max was right. The Elephante who Sam had just been speaking with went running by, hands over her ears, toward the door. Sam noticed other customers doing the same.

     "Like oh my GOSH! This futon is like soooooo CUTE!!" squealed Allison the Red Aisha in her girly, high-pitched voice. "Oh my GOSHHHHH! It like matches my wallpaper AND carpet AND ceiling AND everything else like sooooOOOOoo PERFECTLY!! Oh my GOSH, I'm buying this like right NOW! Oh my GOSH!"

     Sam had no idea a Neopet's voice could go that high. His ears were in pain.

     "Excuse me, miss. Could you please keep it down?" he said, walking over to her. "You are distu--"

     "Oh my GOSH! Don't you think this futon is like sooooo FABULOUS?!!"


     "How much is it?! HOW MUCH??!?!"

     "Err.." he glanced at his Mynci manager. "Free! It's a special limited-time offer that we're having but it ends in ten seconds! You better hurry!"

     "Oh my GOSH!! EEEEEEeeee!" Allison shrieked as she ran out of the store as fast as possible, dragging her new futon behind.

     Sam walked back over to Max. "That was easy. She seemed to think that some Futonfish was an actual futon, so I told her she could have it for free if she left."

     "Oh, good job, Sam. You're getting a raise."

     Having noticed that the Aisha had left the store, the Elephante walked back in, and Sam went back to work.


     Utility Fish are an odd and controversial breed. Many Neopians believe that the Utility Fish were created with the intention of being used - the Sawfish born for the chopping of trees; the Golfclubfish born to hit small, white balls across great distances. On the other hand, many claim that Utility Fish are still living, breathing creatures, and therefore should be allowed their own free will.

     Futonfish, one type of Utility Fish, really aren't fish at all, but large turtles with shells that make them look strangely like futons. It's an odd thing, of course, being a Utility Fish: people that you meet always feel the need to ask you a thousand questions about what it's like. The most common question, "So.. People really.. sit on you?" always annoyed Fernald the most.

     Allison plopped herself down on her futon with the latest issue of some girly, pink magazine, beginning to read. "Oh my GOSH!!" she squealed, each time she saw the colour pink (her favourite colour) or a cute boy in the magazine.

     Two green eyes opened. Fernald the Futonfish was not having a good time.

     1. He had been dragged several miles down the road from the store all the way to the Aisha's house, across concrete, gravel, dirt, and various other unpleasant materials.

     2. When they finally reached the Aisha's house, she placed Fernald in several (and by several I mean eighty-seven) different places around her house as she tried to find the place where he best matched her wallpaper, carpet, ceiling, and everything else.

     3. The Aisha sat on him, which really isn't pleasant.. I mean, unless you really enjoy that sort of thing.

     And, finally,

     4. The entire time that all this was happening, Fernald had to endure the Aisha's unbearable shrieks and squeals of "OH MY GOSH!" over and over and over and over and OVER again and again and AGAIN for several hours, which is by far the worst of all.

     He had to get away. If he didn't, if he couldn't, if he was forced to stay with the aggravating Aisha for the rest of his life, he would most probably go InSaNe.

     As Fernald sat, while being sat upon, he came up with a horrible plan that was nonetheless effective.

     He knew he could never run away: he was a turtle, and, as everyone knows, most turtles are slow. If he tried, he wouldn't get far before the irritating Aisha found him and dragged him all the way back to her dreadful house, and he was sick of being dragged around.

     Allison was so excited about her pink magazine, and so adamant on repeating her three favourite words over and over again, she never noticed that her futon had begun to move. Fernald walked out of Allison's house, over a bridge, across a field, swam across the ocean, and finally climbed to the tip top of Terror Mountain, Allison still sitting on his back without noticing a thing.

     It was a long trip, but contrary to popular belief, Allison could read. She read every single article in her magazine (including Pink or Purple: Which is better?, and 27,000 Ways to Apply Mascara, and The Prettiest Girl in the Whole Wide World, and various other articles too obnoxious to list) without looking up once.

     The air was cold and the wind was strong. In one sudden swoosh, Allison's pink magazine went flying free of her fingers.

     "Oh my g--" she began to say, finally realizing that she was no longer in her house. "W-Where am I?"

     "Terror Mountain," said Fernald with a grin. "Bye."

     In one sudden jerk, Allison the Red Aisha went flying from Fernald's back and high into the air. Two seconds later she began to fall, and down the mountain she tumbled.

     "OH MY GOSH!!!!!" Allison shrieked, and Fernald hoped it would be for the last time. He smiled as she disappeared from his sight far below.

     He was finally rid of her.

     It was the happiest day of his life.


     "Isn't this lamp beautiful? It's a hand-crafted piece all the way from Altador - incredibly rare! This week only we're having a half-price sale, so this lamp will only cost you a very reasonable 3,000 NP."

     "What a DEAL! I'll take it!"

     Sam handed the disgusting pear-shaped lamp to the Grarrl and smiled. "Would you like to pay for this now or keep shopping around? Remember, this week we're having a major sale!"

     "I'd look to look around a bit mor--"


     Sam looked to his right. Max was glaring at him.

     "Excuse me, sir, I'll be back in just a sec."

     He walked over to Max. "What's the probl--" he said, or half-said, as he noticed the snow-covered Aisha next to his manager.

     "This nice Aisha," Max began. "says that you sold her a faulty futon. Is this true?"

     Max's voice was angry. Pretending to be mad at the employee who apparently has done something bad to a customer always makes the customer feel better.

     "What futon was it? I don't recall selling any futons..." Sam said.

     "I DON'T KNOW but it was REAL cute and it threw me off a MOUNTAIN!!"

     "It threw you off a mountain? I don't understand..." and just then, right as he said that, he remembered.

     He glanced up at Max, who still hadn't realized what was happening.

     "Oh my GOSH, just give me the refund NOW!!"

     Sam was silent for a moment, and finally muttered, "It was free... We can't give you a refund - we gave it to you for free!"


     "How can you give a refund for something that was free?"

     "OH MY GOSHHHHH!!" she screamed, and Allison finally stomped out of the store.

     Sam looked at Max. Max looked at Sam.

     Allison ran down the street all the way home, opened her front door, and shrieked "OH MY GOSH, my life is OVER! I have no FUTON, my MAGAZINE blew away, and I'll NEVER get my REFUND!!!" She plopped down on her bed and cried all night long.


     Fernald was smiling. He was freezing cold, but smiling.

     As the feckless Futonfish made his way down the slippery slopes of Terror Mountain, he thought about what he had done. It was exciting feeling, and he liked it.

     "Revenge is a dish best served cold." Fernald had once heard, and suddenly he realized how true it really was.

The End

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