The Habitarium

Professor Milton Clodbottle is an odd fellow. He is always talking about P3s, which is what he likes to call petpetpets.

“So, Milton, if I may call you that, what made you decide to have this Habitarium?” I asked, after he seated me on a green beanbag chair.

“I love P3s; they’re an obsession of mine. When I was younger, I had 86 of them all hidden in my room! I’d feed them scraps from the table and I built them a small playground... they were the best,” he exclaimed, sitting on a red beanbag chair.

“What does someone do in this new development?” I asked, biting my sandwich. “What’s its purpose?”

“The purpose? To educate the world about lovely P3s. Here you get your own plot of land and animals to nurture.” Then, he stopped and waved at a blue Uni. “Hi, Paul! Say, Paul, can you show this here reporter your land?”

“Sure!” Paul, the Uni, called back, and I was taken to a small patch of lawn; his farm.

A few sorry-looking P3s dragged their tiny feet across the grass. I fed them my sandwich crusts which they fought over.

“Why do they look so tired?” I asked, piqued for these small creatures were not to be made sad.

“They aren’t made to work,” Paul replied, seating himself on a small rock and biting into a dinner roll. “When they don’t work, they don’t eat.”

I guiltily hid the rest of my sandwich. “May I speak to some?” I asked. Paul looked annoyed, yet he let me choose three to interview.

“Hurry it up, though,” he grumbled, sipping on a partially crushed can of Neocola. “I need them back here pronto.”

I brought three away. We sat on a nearby bench and I handed them the rest of my lunch. They grabbed crumbs of it and ate hungrily.

“So,” I asked as they stuffed the food down their tiny throats, “what are your names?”

Two identical P3s looked at each other. “I’m Pip,” one said. “And I’m Squeak.” The other dug into the peppery lettuce which clung sadly to the remains of my sandwich.

“I’m Lela,” the small blue one said shyly, chewing slowly on a tomato seed.

“What do you do? Describe your day?” I brought out a can of Neocola and drank it as they explained.

“Horrible. It’s just plain bad,” Pip groaned.

“We just work all day!” Squeak sighed.

“We aren’t fed until Paul is pleased, we sleep on the cold ground, we have no breaks, and our lives are miserable,” Lela finished, “but not everyone has bad owners.”

I sadly let them go back. After a sour goodbye to Paul, I decided to make a haven for some P3s. I got myself a plot of land and I started to work... well, at least I tried to, but a mass of P3s appeared and started to climb my legs enthusiastically.

“Gah!” I tried to gently shake them off. “Go away, go to work, go eat, go sleep, just let go please!”

“Food!” one cried out.

“Work!” another sang.

“Sl... ee... p,” one yawned.

I quickly grabbed a nearby scroll. Upon opening it I found a digital catalog. I found the ‘supplies’ page and browsed; there were so many things! I chose some jelly and it appeared in my hands; the scroll rolled back up and set itself down. I placed the jelly near my P3s.

They surrounded it with glee until it was reduced to a few wiggly crumbs. I wiped my sweaty brow.

“Work!” one then yelled, and they started at me. “We have nowhere to put things!”

I set up a storage unit quickly and they fixed it up for me. Then they all went to toil, collecting wood, water, pollen and mud, except for one P3. They stared at me sadly.

“Sleep?” They fell to the ground in a silent slumber.

It was very hectic owning a Habitarium. I soon gave it up to an eager young Neopet and I started my way back to my work.

Professor Milton Clodbottle stopped me, huge grin played across his face.

“How do you like it then? Was your farm fun? Entertaining? Easy?” he asked enthusiastically, holding a small white box with a large red ribbon. The box had holes in the lid.

“It was good... but I can’t always be at my... um... farm. I have articles to write and interviews to make; I’m going to Mystery Island next for the latest buzz on fruit. I gave it to a better owner, one who has the time. Hope you don’t mind,” I gushed, my blue fur changing to a cherry-red in embarrassment.

“Don’t you worry! Here’s a gift that you can bring with you. Paul left it for you... he gave up on his farm. The rest of them are off with new owners, but these three seemed to adore your company.” He opened the box and Pip, Squeak and Lela all stared at me from the tissue paper within. I smiled.

“Thank you, Professor Milton. This is such a treat.” I took the box, bowed (almost tipping my three new friends onto the hard dirt pathway), and returned to my office where I typed up my article (which is what you are reading right now). Pip, Squeak and Lela took a nap on a vacant pin cushion and then ate some crumbs from the kitchenette. It was a good day.

So yes, the Habitarium is a hot new place. P3s are very entertaining, loyal, easy to take care for, no trouble, no - oh, sorry, I need to go; Pip just found out how to use a stapler. Hey, Pip! Those are all my important files! Don’t staple tho – AGH!

- Reporter Sharon.

P.S. Pip is now going to find out how to use a stapler-remover...