Dr. Death (The Sing Along Version)
He’s cold and relentless; heart filled with ice. They call him Dr. Death; he’s definitely not nice. His eyes gleam with pleasure upon catching a glimpse from the side, of a determined looking owner dragging a sobbing pet inside. With ungodly chartreuse shining in his eyes, bony sickly yellow Techo claws reach out and grab their new prize. Some may look at him and wonder: Does he have no regret? The truth is he doesn’t, always playing his part like a skilled marionette.
How did he get this way, you ask? What made him love this cruel task? Well, what’s there not to love, he’d say, there’s goal, accomplishment, and nerve! When I was a young Techo, roaming far and free, no one saw what I did, no one saw me! But now it’s all changed, now the tables are turned. It’s my turn to pass judgment, it’s theirs to be burnt. Those proud haughty pets, with their painted coats and perfect hair; once they enter this door, they’re mine, all humbled in my detracting care! They could resemble clouds, chocolate, custard, or clay; but in the binding four walls of the cage, they all look rather the same, I must say!
You shudder in his presence; his words leave you cold. How could one be so pitiless, no care for young or old? Tentatively you walk in and tiptoe through the aisles. Oh, look at them, poor things; barely alive! All manner of pets are curled up behind steel bars. They weep, they sigh, their faces with tears and dust marred. You look around you nervously; he is thankfully nowhere to be seen. Nowhere can you spot his evil shadow, his unearthly dark sheen. Nimble fingers open the cages, one by one. Perhaps you can let them loose; they can be free at least to play in the warm sun. The cages creak open, a tiny paw emerges. Then another! Tiny paw with the other one merges. Fear in their eyes, each pet looks to you for reassurance. You try to smile as best you can, though of their well being you can give no insurance. Like a Cobrall charmer you lead them outside, not wasting any time; they follow but what’s this, in front of you is a dark line!
Oh no! It’s him! He must’ve lain in wait. To laugh cruelly at your efforts, you unsuspecting bait! His arms flung out dramatically, he blocks your way. You wish to help them escape, he growls, to ‘help’ them you say? Well, not in my domain, that I’ll assure you! No one gets by my watch, not even a small Puppyblew! Take yourself home, I say, and never come back! Don’t let me spy your do-gooder spirit on this side of the map!
Head hanging down, you walk away slowly. You don’t have the courage to turn around and see disappointment embrace the pets, no doubt crying morosely. No self respect left, you reach your home. Surely there’s something you can do, some way to make this problem known. Then an idea strikes you like the Light Faerie’s wand; why of course, it’s so simple, so elementary really! Standing up straight and tall, you march up to the library halls, and set to work rather gaily. Flier after flier you draw, care pouring into every line. Surely people simply didn’t know what beautiful pets lay in wait, how amazing, how fine! And those that were less pretty, what magnificent characters they possessed! It was your task now, you told yourself; not one pet should be left dismissed!
Tirelessly, through every marketplace you walk, asking owners to put up the posters near every windowsill, every clock. Most smile and agree at once; others need a bit of persuasion. Yet when the day is over not a one has succeeded in thwarting your determination. Next day you begin again, from dawn to dusk. You push so hard, your heart full with hope, not one moment can be spent running amuck. When the shops have all been scoured, your goal is not over then! No, kind soul that you are, exploring all avenues is the key you reckon. So off you go! To friends and even foes. To those who would gladly listen and those you hardly know. One by one, you go and plead your case. You show them the posters illustrating each pet’s face. Please consider my sincere request, you beg, eyes filling with tears. Oh wondrous Fyora’s magic, you begin to see acquiescing nods near. First a one, then the other, they pick up the fliers and peruse. Searching if perhaps their perfect pet lay waiting in the pound’s darkened room.
A month went by and you didn’t stop; every day you did your rounds. Till something strange began to happen, you could hear familiar sounds! Could it be, could it really be? That the pets from the pound were now in homes you could see? You knock at a door, you can barely breathe. When the door opened, you saw that it was one of the pound Skeiths! He smiled and hugged you, overcome with joy. You were his savior he says, and now he could not ask for more love or even toys!
Slowly, you notice this becomes everyday news! Perhaps you’re simply strolling through the Faerieland Garden, and oh, there’s a rescued Bruce! Even the fairies join in to help with the good fight; with their gossamer wings they fly around Neopia advertising the fliers with their bright light. People you have never even met begin to approach you with a smile; asking if to show them a worthwhile pet you have a few seconds of time. Then finally comes a day, you receive an odd neomail. It’s from the pink Uni on the other side of the pound cells. You twitch an eyebrow and read it through. Then again, and again, you can’t believe it’s true!
Dear friend (it says), you won’t believe what’s occurred. All of the pets have been adopted, why if you had suggested this would happen I would’ve thought it absurd! We even have a waiting list, so in the future if pets are abandoned, they’ll have a home to go to at once, no waiting till to even dream our poor pets grow reluctant. I’m so happy for them all and I know we have you to thank. So thank you with all my heart, oh, isn’t it just grand!
Word of your deeds spread near and they spread far; till one fateful day you must finish your last brawl. With force in your steps, you march up to the pound, throw the door open wide and wait for a sound. He lies in a corner, quiet and motionless. Why, Dr. Death, you say, now are you sorry for your meanness? He rises then, red fire in his eyes. No, he thunders, of course not you, you embodiment of malaise! You begin to reply, I have done what is right... but then see that this is a useless track. He has no regret, only anger you see; so from that steadfast reasoning he will not budge or recede. Shaking your head in disgust, you trudge away content; your mission after all is accomplished, so what if Dr. Death shall never repent!
My ode to the unwanted pets of Neopia; neomail me any comments or thoughts. Thank you for reading! ^_^
Search the Neopian Times