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The Bottom of the Mysteries Surrounding Odd-Job Bob


by oldcorpsebreath

--------

My mind itched.

I’d say it was an odd and rare occurrence, but the fact of the matter was, my mind was quite itchy. I tended to think a lot on mysterious matters, pondering the strategies of Dr Sloth, and whether or not he had enlisted the help of the kadoaties, and my mind gave over to itches quite a lot.

This particular case of brain itches, however, was somewhat unusual. Rather than thinking about some evil genius, or world domination, I was considering that angry Yurble, the one whose name cropped up an awful lot in OLDPD conversations. You know him. Odd-Job Bob. That weird guy who was apparently in need of cash, and willing to do any job that popped up. Yes, him.

Why was I thinking about THAT particular character? Don’t ask me. I won’t pretend to understand the complexities of my brain. But something about that Yurble was bugging me. So many countless mysteries surrounded him. Why did he have such a liking for TNT’s many plots? Why on earth did TNT give him these jobs, when he seemed like such a psychopath? Why was he so angry? And the real mystery: Where did he begin?

I tried to ignore these questions pounding through my head. Tried, but failed. It all cycled through my brain relentlessly, and it itched every so much. Nothing seemed capable of distracting me. Even Turmac Roll, my trusty pal for getting me out of the itchies, failed me. I was pounding the little Turmac to a pulp on tree stumps. What was wrong with me?

Finally, just as I was getting ready to give up and run screaming like a maniac through Kelp, my dear friend Scamperingjewel offered me a solution: Set up an interview with him!

The precise wording of this suggestion was more along the lines of, “Duh. Just ASK HIM, and QUIT BOTHERING ME.” A bit wounded, I hastily withdrew my head before she began throwing things, but my mind was whirling.

An exclusive interview with Odd-Job Bob. It had a certain ring to it. An exclusive interview with Bob. It was perfect. Nothing could go wrong. Probably.

*

The next day dawned clear and crisp, a lovely fall morning. I traipsed over to Scamper’s house, Kisumu, Quantile and Cerberus in tow, and prepared to set off on our adventure. Despite the careful preparations I had made, I couldn’t help but think that something terrible, horrifying, and as dreadful as the late release of plot prizes might happen; e.g., Scamper might strangle me if I arrived at her house without any warning at all and expected her help with this, er, project, and I had no idea where we would go, what we would say to him, or how he might be found when it turned out that we didn’t know what to do.

Upon my arrival at her house, Scamper at least didn’t kill me. She gave me an evil eye- nay a positively EXTRA-evil eye- but let us in anyway. It was probably because the idea intrigued her, but it might just have been the candy I’d given her earlier.

“So, uh, where do you think he could be?” I asked, possibly for the thousandth time. Scamper looked up, giving me a withering look.

“I’ve told you. He’s most likely somewhere plot related. So, he could be in Shenkuu, Altador, the Lost Desert, Maraqua, etc. My idea is that we try going to anywhere he might be associated; i.e. the Hall of Heroes, the graveyard. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?”

“There’s no need to scream at me,” I replied, wounded. “It was a simple question.”

“Yes, but it was also one you’ve asked thirty times.”

“Twenty-three.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty-three!”

“YARR!” Very suddenly, a voice interrupted our argument. Kisumu, decked out in full pirate regalia, had made an entrance. “Avast, ye, or you’ll walk the plank!”

Scamper and I groaned in unison.

“Please, Kisumu. We’re trying to work here,” I begged him. “Go out and terrorize your friends.”

“Actually,” Scamper interrupted, “we were just leaving. Go get everyone and we’ll leave.”

“We’re taking all of them with us?” I asked, surprised. “Won’t they slow us down or something?”

“No. They could be handy if he attacks.”

And with this cheery thought, we left.

Our journey to Odd-Job Bob began in the Haunted Woods. We first headed out to Sophie’s prize shack, to question her about Bob’s whereabouts. The conversation went something like this:

Oldcorpsebreath [henceforth known as CORPSE]: Hello there, Sophie. Can you-

Sophie: Not you again! Away! Quit coming here just to ogle! Spend your points and be done with it! [This was a reference to my habit of making my way to her shack, looking at the stuff for a while, jangling my points in my pocket, then leaving.]

Scamperingjewel [henceforth known as SCAMPER]: [elbowing Corpse out of the way] Ahem. Don’t mind her. [squeak from Corpse] Could you possibly tell us a bit about the current location of the fellow know as Odd-Job Bob?

Sophie [looking suspicious]: What do you want to know about him for?

Scamper: Professional reasons. What can you tell us about him?

Sophie: Absolutely nothing. Especially not with your friend there.

[The following dialogues were removed because they were deemed to similar to the above, and for unnecessary violence towards Corpse.]

By the time we had finished all this, the pets were somewhat bored, and Scamper was getting VERY annoyed with me. At long last, we arrived at the archivist’s. He was probably the one person who didn’t feel like throwing me off Terror Mountain, and complied with our search willingly.

“Odd-Job Bob? You mean that angry fellow usually out in the Hall of Heroes?” Finneus asked us.

“Yes. Him. That freaky dude,” Cerberus put in for me. “For some reason, she” (he jabbed me rather hard) “wants to find him. Don’t ask me what for, dude.”

“Yes, I know where he is. ’Course I do. You don’t know how many people have asked me where he is, though. I’ll make a special exception for you, though, giving that it’s you.”

Scamper looked outraged. I made a mental note never to tell her about my Friday night poker games with Finneus and Kelland. (We used to play with the Darkest Faerie, until she exploded. A shame. She kept the games lively.) I had a feeling she might spontaneously combust if I did.

“Yes, Bob. He never wanted to play poker with Kelland, Corpse, the Darkest Faerie, and me.”

Oops. So much for not telling her.

“Last I saw him; he was heading out for his vacation house in the Altador Docks. Said something about taking a well deserved vacation from all the crazed fans, and was glad TNT had finally released the plot prizes.”

Scamper hustled us all out of there, before turning on me. There was fire in her eyes.

“YOU PLAYED POKER WITH THE DARKEST FAERIE?! Are you stupid or something?”

“I, um, well, she exploded, anyway...”

“o_O,” Scamper said threateningly.

Wait, how was that threatening?

*

Bob’s summer house turned out to be a lovely villa by the seaside. I was surprised that he could afford such a lovely place, given the nature of his salary, but then, maybe he was a con embezzler. You never know.

While I was engrossed in these thoughts, Scamper had walked up and unabashedly rung the doorbell. Bob himself answered.

“ABSOLUTELY NO SOLICITORS! I’M FED UP WITH YOU PEOPLE! DIDN’T YOU SEE THE SIGN?” he bellowed at us. There had, of course, been no sign.

Scamper tapped him on the arm. “We’re not solicitors, sir. We’re from the Neopian Times. Four out of five Neopians agree, it’s the best Neopian Times there is.” I had to admire her tact. And the added advertisement to the paper might be worth some money here. Except for the fact that, technically, we weren’t from the newspaper...

“Oh. Oh, well then. That’s different,” Odd-Job Bob said, cooling down a bit. “Come in, come in.”

The house was nicely furnished, I had to admit. Tasteful Altadorian rugs covered the floor, and a glass table held some scrumptious looking food, again from Altador. I got out my pad and pen, prepared to fire my questions at him. Where had those come from? I was sure I hadn’t had them when I left the house.

“So,” Bob said. “You’re here to... clean or something?”

Scamper and I exchanged a look. Cleaning hadn’t been a part of our agenda.

“Ah, yes. I remember. That cleaning service I hired, Extremely Small Meepits, Inc. You two must be from them. Well, the living room rug is absolutely COVERED in dust, and the windows are in need of a good scrubbing- HEY, WHY ARE YOU TWO EXCHANGING A LOOK? ARE YOU HERE TO CLEAN MY HOUSE OR NOT?”

“Um, no, we’re not here to clean, Mr. Bob, sir. We’re here for an exclusive interview!”

“An interview, eh?” he said, warming to the thought. “All about my adventures throughout the plots of Neopia? Hmm... could work, could work,” he mused.

Taking this as a sign that he would consent to give an interview, I began the questioning...

To save further irritation of the reader by various adverbial phrases, violent shoving, and shouting, I have enclosed a sheet containing the questions and their answers: 1. Q: So, Bob. What was your career ambition as a child? Did you always want to be a janitor/chef/foreman/graveyard dude?

A: No, NO! I always wanted to be one of those guys that fly airplanes! Of course, THAT was silly. I gave it up as a childhood fancy at age three. It might still happen, though, if TNT ever sets a plot in Faerieland... I rather liked the idea of that whole Faerie Wars thing. IT’S NOT FAIR! DOESN’T A YURBLE EVER GET A BREAK?!

2. Q: Tell us the origins of your name. Odd-Job Bob isn’t especially common.

A: Common? Of course it’s not common! Odd-Job Bob is the least common name I’ve ever heard! My full name is Robert Cranbert Zoë Jr. Desterhoft, but that was far too COMMON for me. I wanted something unusual, something that would stick in the minds of people.

3. Q: What would you consider to be your TRUE favorite color of toenail polish?

A: Indigo. It sets off my fur nicely.

4. Q: What is the meaning of life, the universe, and the reasons TNT hired you in the first place?

A: [A large stain of toenail polish obscures the answer to 4. Looks like the world will never know the answers to this question... (The toenail polish, incidentally, is not indigo. It is turquoise.)]

5. Q: How come you never join our Friday night poker games?

A: WHAT? YOU WERE THERE FOR THEM? FINNEUS NEVER TOLD ME THAT! I WOULD HAVE BEEN THERE IF I’D KNOWN!

6. Q: What made you pick Altador as a site for your vacation home?

A: Dunno. I kinda liked the docks. Plus, the Altador Plot was my favorite one...

7. Q: You say you liked the Altador Plot a lot. Who’s your favorite protector?

A: The Darkest Faerie. No comment.

8. Q: What would you say your favorite pastime is, Mr Bob?

A: You know, it’s funny you should ask. I used to really love waterskiing. Absolutely adored it. But then came the Curse of Maraqua plot, and well, waterskiing just never seemed as fun anymore. After that, the Lost Desert Plot hit. I had to give away all my building blocks and cooking utensils. The poor things. So, I took up stargazing, until along came the Altador plot, and I had to give that one up, too. I started reading fanatically, until the darned Tale of Woe, with all those STUPID GRAVEYARD REFERENCE BOOKS, and even that book, How to Calm an Angry Yurble, WASN’T INTERESTING. So now I mostly cheat at cards.

Here the questions end, as Bob and I had already planned to go bowling together Monday, water-skiing in Maraqua Wednesday (I was hoping he’d take it up again), Friday night poker, of course, and I’d volunteered to take him to his counseling lessons on Saturday. Scamper was getting a wee bit jealous.

“We should be getting back now,” she said, an unconvincing expression of regret on her face. “It was enjoyable meeting you, Bob!” With that, she dragged me back all the way to the inter-land ferry station (the most comfortable way to travel from world to world), and we were back home. Looking irate, she stormed off into her own house with Krendular and Murfeefee, and Cerberus, Quantile, Kisumu, and I were heading off to our cottage.

Excitedly, I brought the sheaf of papers from our little jaunt over to my typewriter, and began to type. I have somewhat of a talent for typing, and I’m fairly fast with my fingers. The job was done before dawn, and I hurried on over to the submission office for the Neopian Times. It had occurred to me that it could be interesting to share my finds with the public, and see their reaction.

After this, it was time for my weekly poker game...

*

A note from the FABULOUS editor (Scamper):

Unfortunately, Corpse perished due to electrocution six days after these events occurred. The Cheat Patrol Chombies, aiming to zap Odd-Job Bob during the game of poker, missed and hit her instead. *smirks*

We’re all miserable; it’s a great loss, blah blah blah. Who’s up for a game of Wingoball?

 
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