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MEERCA DAY SPECIAL
Meerca or Mine?
Within the murk, the briny depths,
Of oceans hide lost treasure chests
And sunken hulks of yesteryear
Preserved in water, sour as tears.
But I, I pass these findings over
In pursuit of treasure of a higher order,
Of course you know of what I speak: a
Rare and shy Maraquan Meerca.
So like a mace in size and form,
The spiny flesh like whetted thorns,
The tail a long and leather strap
To propel or strike out with a lash.
Do not discount its tiny teeth,
I once was bitten; 'twas painful deep.
You do not know how long I've waited
But now I've found one, large, inflated...
Within the murk, the briny depths,
Of oceans hide more than Neopets.
Oh, curse the uncertainty that joy postpones.
Be this pet or duplicitous metal clone?
The tail, the eyes, the stinging spines --
Could it be but a Meerca Water Mine?
So long have I searched; I want, I covet,
Can't help myself, I reach out to touch it
A Meerca Heist
Statues, sparkling golden light
Through time's dusty hold does lustre show.
In a darkened vault lie treasures bright;
Lonely Ixi statues gleam and glow.
Petpets their only company,
Skittering through boxes far below.
Lone spectators of the golden sheen,
And guardians of treasures unknown.
A rustle -- a Lyins stops to freeze;
Foreign sounds in a vault thrice-sealed.
Petpet eyes peer up and see
Two masked brothers, here to steal.
Silently through sable masks
Do ne'er-do-wells sum up the price,
Position themselves to do their task,
And thus begins another heist.
Shifting boxes cause Nabile to fall
Through coins and wood; the floor they meet;
Avoiding Petpets' prying claws
Do two deft Meercas earn their keep.
Like shadows do they slip away
And take their leave anon,
Long gone before it is the day
Where Jazan finds his treasures gone.
The Story of Meerca Chase
It all started quite long ago,
When Neggs were everywhere.
The colours of the wide rainbow,
Lacked trouble and/or care.
Then the hunter passed by,
A Meerca sought them out.
He was quick and very sly,
Hungry without one doubt.
The Neggs scattered very far,
They feared the searching eyes.
They didn't dare to start a spar,
And thus were very wise.
One by one the Meerca ate,
Until one Negg remained.
A Fish Negg went against its fate,
Until the moon had waned.
By the night it sought escape,
But the tracker's skill was good.
The Fish Negg was in quite a scrape,
For it was the Meerca's food.
Finally the Negg was trapped,
Before him stood his captor.
"I shall eat you now," he said,
And ate the Negg right after.
Thus completed was his aim,
And so he was quite bloated.
A game was named after him,
One now highly rated.
Meerca Chase is its name,
Beloved by the masses,
High acclaim has held this game,
To stand strong through the ages.
Indulge in the Crumpetmonger's Pastries
This place was foggy and lost to view,
But just this thought brought me through:
Scones, crumpets, cakes, and even a tart;
There was shopkeeper who made it an art.
I came from afar, very far in haste,
Just in search of a heavenly taste.
I'm originally from the land of faeries;
Tired of the bubbles, crisps, and even the cherries,
I was in search of the one called the Monger,
In hopes that she'll satisfy my hunger.
And upon my arrival my nose was enticed
Surely this food would have sufficed.
The Crumpetmonger was her formal name
And her pastries the cause of her fame,
Because it certainly wasn't her old-fashioned hair,
The beauty mark, dress, or even that glare.
Yes, she surely was quite the vision,
But no doubt her food was made with precision.
Eagerly I ordered a Blueberry Scone,
The smell, the taste... for one on a throne.
Today the Meercas rejoice in their glory,
And for that reason is why I share my story.
I advise you indulge in the Monger's pastry,
I would never lie about something so tasty.
So before you go mad and your hairs pluck,
Search for Neovia and you'll be in luck.
We roam our dungeon damp,
and we light it -- but you'll find no
comfort in our shine, no
warmth in the flickers cold,
for we are not of world
but of memories, pale shadows
of presence but
the flash of your swords,
your shouts for what you call
for we know of
no such thing, we Meercas of
the dungeon damp, and
we'll come out from our
wall-cracks when we see the
glint of your armour
and the sparks of your magic,
for there shall be
one sorcerer only in this
and you, sword-carrier... stay
out, stay out of the
gloom that is
ours, this gloom that
light of ours alone can tame.
Finding a Friendly Fin
Once did a magma Meerca dwell
Beside the clear blue of the sea.
He stood on sand, and looked afar.
His bright red eyes were filled with glee.
Out at sea gazed a spiky being,
One of unique greys and browns.
He looked back with worried eyes,
Inward eyebrows and gloomy frowns.
The magma Meerca asked, "What's wrong?"
The Meerca replied with a sad stare,
"No one wants to play with me,
It's becoming too much to bear."
"They think I'm going to hurt them
With my harmless spikes and quills.
I had a friend who played with me
In lush valleys and perfect hills.
"But he soon left me for better friends
And left me all on my own.
Now I surf the lonely seas
With silent cries and moans."
The fiery Meerca gazed at him,
Wondering what to say and do.
"I'll be your friend, for all the seas
And I promise I'll never leave you."
The Maraquan Meerca beamed at him
And offered his silvery fin.
The sizzling Meerca shook with pride,
His smile became a grin.
Together the Meercas left,
And spoke of tales and rhymes.
Today they still remain friends
As they will for a very long time.
Lying in bed, his calendar is marked;
A bright Fish Negg sticker covers the date.
The wild chirp of a Pteri and his eyes split open.
He opens the blinds, his challenge is clear.
The street is decorated with smiling faces,
Playing to a bright blue backdrop in the sky.
A morning stretch for the tightest squeeze,
A dangerous path at every intersection,
But a glaring streak is worth the risk.
The hardest difficulty he's ever faced,
No room for error; a picture-perfect game,
A tale bigger than the score itself.
He's trained all summer, a personal best,
Needing to soar, he slips on his boots of flight.
He wants the trophy with an endless shine.
An end to the season, one blaze too many,
But some habits never die, and so this Meerca runs
Sprinting toward the beach so he can catch the sun.
Blinding fire, glittering bright,
Body and tail ablaze with light,
Ready to start and win a fight,
The Flaming Meerca waits.
If you dare start an attack,
Equip your pet and watch your back,
In firepower he doesn't lack,
The Flaming Meerca prepares.
Blurs of crimson, orange, and gold,
Watch as the fiery battle unfolds,
A challenger so brave, so bold,
The Flaming Meerca fights.
Many pets have been beaten by flames,
This Meerca's clearly aptly named,
Fiery tendrils cannot be tamed,
The Flaming Meerca roars.
But wait, water falls in gentle rain,
The Meerca whimpers in his pain,
His fire cannot be sustained,
The Flaming Meerca groans.
And soon greying ashes on the ground
Are the only remains that can be found,
But one day he'll be back around,
The Flaming Meerca waits.
The Failure of Wyett Tuggins
It is written in the history of Altador
That a young goalie failed at his task.
For the fans of Team Lost Desert,
Having strong players was too much to ask.
They should have known with a name like his
"Wyett Tuggins" would ruin their chances.
They'd say, "He's too busy 'tuggin' not blockin',
While the opposition makes their advances!"
But in the defence of the lonely Meerca
(Who was a vertically challenged being),
How could he block a flaming Yooyu,
When he lacked the height for seeing?!
The critics would fight back, of course,
Mentioning the success of Yoris Obbles.
"You see, JubJubs block goals without hands!"
That point did surely end our squabble.
The height factor was considered literally,
As Wyett's replacement was quite a giant,
And unlike the under-performing goalie before,
He was undoubtedly less reliant.
But it's often wondered where Tuggins went,
After the criticism came down hard.
Did he ever show up at the Altador Cup,
To watch the team where he once starred?
Or did he simply change his career,
To something simpler and less demanding?
They always say he should switch to cards,
Where Meercas tend to do outstanding.
But others await the day he shows his face,
In Altador once more.
Whether it be playing on a team again,
Or simply keeping score.
A Dangerous Job
Round, ever round must go my tail,
Avoiding Neggs of vicious red.
Round, ever round the floor I sail,
Keeping my eyes on what's ahead.
Who would do this job in my stead?
The thought would make daredevils pale.
To danger every day I'm led;
Round, ever round must go my tail.
I'll speed past hedges without fail
Till on delicious Neggs I'm fed,
Seeking the Fish, my holy grail,
Avoiding Neggs of vicious red;
Those fiery spices make me wail.
Show me one, and I'll scream in dread!
But Happy Neggs I'll munch wholesale,
Keeping my eyes on what's ahead.
Where is MY trophy, sent to hail
My courage where the rest have fled?
I'm waiting for the Neomail
That honours all the times I've sped
Round, ever round.
Underwater is a beautiful place,
while islands are hit with roaring waves.
Underneath the water we see a shadow,
much unlike the usual pet look.
Venture in closer and you will see,
a creature with a rather spiky shield.
But would this pet hurt you?
Why not ask the Maraquan Meerca?
It looks quite harmless at first,
though its defence can be quick to hurt.
You want to ask it if it was friendly,
but the thought of talking was still pending.
Finally, you decide to speak up,
as this had gone on long enough.
You ask it if it was a nice pet,
and he assures you he hasn't hurt anyone yet.
Soon you find you're in conversation,
with a pet who lives in an underwater place.
You see it's soon time to go,
but you don't want to miss more of this show.
The Maraquan Meerca was a very nice friend,
but the day was coming to an end.
The next day you will go back,
to see the dangerous Meerca who won't attack.
The Ballad of Young Sproggie
Aye, young Sproggie was a Meerca,
Who ate and ate and ate,
Whatever was in front of him,
He always cleared his plate!
He was member of the Food Club,
A prestigious club indeed!
And every sunny afternoon,
He headed there to feed.
They'd pile his dish so very high,
That he couldn't see above it,
But did not matter if it reached the sky,
For Sproggie always loved it!
Oh, was there ever such a Neopet
Whose stomach could not empty?
All I know is little Sprog
Had room for a-plenty!
The Thrill of the Chase
Right, left, up, down,
Avoiding Neggs of red;
Grey, blue, fish, and green
Are what to choose instead.
A Meerca, yellow, plays the game
And always keeps the pace.
He plays not for the Neopoints
But the thrill of the Chase.
He starts alone, but stronger grows
With each Negg he collects --
Unless he grabs a Negg of red,
In which case, he is wrecked.
The Meerca, though, with haughty smile,
Knows that he's the ace,
And thus will try the game again
For the thrill of the Chase.
A mode that spotlights gravity
Is the Meerca's biggest test.
With dark black hole and downward pulls,
It's for only the best.
The Meerca, in this different realm,
Does not feel out of place.
He plays just like he always does:
For the thrill of the Chase.
(This Chase is one that's known to me,
And also known to you;
Perhaps the greatest game we know,
The famed Meerca Chase II.
But just like yellow Meerca does,
One thing's always the case:
Despite other rewards, we play
For the thrill of the Chase.)
Within a pastry shop there stands
A matronly Meerca with flour-covered hands
With a smile on her face for everyone there.
She urges them all to come look at her wares.
"Won't you try a crumpet? They're nice and hot,
Or perhaps a scone would hit the spot?
I've plenty of pastries, fresh from the oven --
Come have a taste; I'm sure that you'll love 'em!"
If you're in Neovia, be sure and stop by
And have a sweet eclair or a savoury pie,
For if you've been longing to feel pastry bliss,
The Crumpetmonger's shop is not to be missed.
A Meerca Day Caution
I sat staring uneasily at dinner.
Was that truly the blinking of an eye?
I knew my owner wished me only the best.
But of all things, must I eat a Meerca Pie?
"Stop staring so and eat your dinner quickly
Before it goes cold, it really must taste good.
For how could something worth so many millions
Be worse than Hot Worm Hot Dogs you call food?"
And suddenly I thought I had my answer.
A way to free myself from dreaded meal,
Allowing me to eat just what I wanted.
I told my owner, "All right, let's make a deal."
"I'll eat this creepy pie you've set before me,
But only if you'll brave a dinner plate
That to you may seem gross and repulsive,
I happen to think the flavour simply great."
My owner reads books just like me, she's clever.
She knew where I was going, and what meal
I'd have her eat, yet much to my great surprise,
She sighed, shook my paw, and sealed the deal.
We each sat staring down at our full plates then.
Neither eager to take the first bite,
Yet unwilling to lose even then my owner chose
To prove that I was wrong and she was right.
"Nothing to it," she muttered to brace herself.
Then came the moment I'd been waiting for.
She raised the squirming treat and took a big bite.
Reluctant though she was, she ate some more.
What choice had I, I followed her example.
The pie was just as nasty as I'd feared.
We both were happy when dinner was over.
At least that scary pie had disappeared.
The next day dawned, we both avoided speaking
Of that event, though it soon came to mind.
The lab ray scientist could not resist laughing.
I know my owner's face looked much like mine.
No longer a handsome Kougra, thanks to that zap.
I could not help but feel quite horrified,
When I was zapped that day to a red Meerca,
At least my owner was then on my side.
So, please, good owners who want food gourmet,
Heed my warning, keep Meerca Pies away,
From your pets especially if you lab them,
I hope you have a splendid Meerca Day.
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