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Neopia's Fill in the Blank News Source | 16th day of Eating, Yr 26
The Neopian Times Week 39 > Short Stories > Why You Haven't Heard of Zorat

Why You Haven't Heard of Zorat

by taffychic

"Argh!" The exceptionally annoyed little Aisha threw the paper on the floor and stomped on it savagely.

Tsarit, aroused from deep sleep by the thumping sounds directly over his head, took the tube to the second floor to see what the problem was. He found Zorat pouting in her commandant's chair, six ears quivering in irritation. Tsarit's face acquired a resigned look and he said, "What on Star-XL552S is under your skin now?" Zorat gave no reply, but directed an if-looks-could-kill glare at the issue of The Neopian Times lying forlornly on the gleaming chrome floor (almost everything in an Alien Aisha spaceship is chrome).

Tsarit picked up the offending newspaper and leafed through it, scanning as he went. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary," he said. He eyed his sister warily. "Talk to me."

Zorat's ears drooped. "I know it's silly, but… but just look at this!" she shrieked, rage returning. Zorat was a life form very prone to mood swings. "A Little Lost Lupe," she read. "Lizzy Lupe Comes Home. A Tale of Two Lupes-Transcribed. The Lupe vs. Swizzle Stick Debate." Zorat did a double take at this one, but chose not to comment. "Lupes get way too much publicity! I mean, really-what happened to creative writing?"

Tsarit thought about it. "You know, you're right! The last time anyone wrote about us was Al Abducted" (Here Zorat hid a few rude words with a cough) "and al_the_chia really made us look like freaks!"

Zorat smothered a giggle. "You do realise he was writing about your and Zori's side of the family?"

A brief scuffle ensued at the mention of Tsarit's wife. Both aliens emerged hot and sweaty. Tsarit poured them both mugs of Alien Achyfi and they sat down to consider the problem.

After ten minutes of pondering (and blowing bubbles in their mugs with straws), Zorat broke the silence. I suppose the only solution is for me to become a world-renowned writer and redeem our somewhat superior race in the eyes of the general populace."

Tsarit dropped his Alien Aisha Destructo-ring and quickly dived down to retrieve it in an attempt to keep his facial expression unseen. However, the ring blew a small hole in the floor as it touched the chrome, turning the little green Tsarit's face black. "Drat," said Tsarit from under the table. "I forgot it was loaded."

A small droid hovered into the room, fixed the hole, and left. There was an awkward pause. "How did a repair droid from Evil Fuzzles From Beyond the Stars get into the ship?" wondered Tsarit.

"What droid?" said Zorat blankly. Tsarit decided to drop it. "Well, Miss Expert Writer-pants, you had better get started if you want your story in this issue. I'm going back to bed."

"See ya," said Zorat nonchalantly, already beginning to develop her Pooglelitzer Prize-Winner attitude. She sat down at her desk, casually draped one leg over the side of her desk chair, and stared at her blank piece of paper, chewing on a Chia eraser and making occasional grunting noises at the difficulty of thinking. Finally, the words began to flow from her pen:

"The Aisha was sad. She couldn't fly. She had been hurt in the Battledome. All the other pets laughed because she wasn't painted. Her owner left her in the pound. The faeries needed her to save the universe, but she had to baby-sit her little sister, who was really a mutant working for Dr. Sloth."

Zorat sat back in her chair to study her masterpiece. She frowned, erased several words, rewrote them exactly as they had been, drew smiley faces in all of the O's, and grinned contentedly.


Tsarit took the tube from the first floor so fast he smashed into the chrome ceiling.

Zorat flipped on her antigravity pack and floated up so she was eye-level with him. "Here it is," she announced proudly, waving it in front of his nose.

Tsarit's face went from annoyed to puzzled as her read the short story. "The plot sounds kind of familiar," he mumbled as he dropped to the ground, scratching his head.

"Yeah, well, it sells," snapped Zorat, snatching her notebook away from him. "I'm going to submit this right now. Wish me luck!"

"Luck," said the very confused Tsarit.

Three weeks later…

"All right," barked Zorat, "this is the last week I'm looking for my story in The Neopian Times. Don't give me an aneurysm!" Tsarit jumped, realising Zorat was talking to him and not his pet Zippy the Flaming Wuzzle, who was sitting on the comfy chrome sofa reading Fuzzles for Dummies. But there was no time to figure all this out-Zorat was still talking. "Now, my dear brother and his dear combustible toy, is the moment of truth! Open the paper!"

Tsarit unfurled the latest issue of the Times with a flourish and handed it to Zorat. She flipped to the short stories section eagerly by feel, her eyes tightly shut. An envelope fluttered to the ground. Tsarit picked it up just as Zorat opened her eyes.

Her smile went from excited to anxious to not there at all. "It…it isn't in here…" said Zorat in disbelief, scanning the titles for the fifth time. "I…I don't…I thought…it isn't in here, Tsarit! Tsarit?"

Tsarit was rolling on the floor with mirth but managed to feebly toss the Neomail he had picked up in Zorat's direction. She retrieved it and read:

Dear Alien Zorat:

Thank you very much for entering our "Worst Story of the Millennium" competition. We are pleased to inform you that your entry, entitled "The Sad Aisha," would certainly have won had not we been forced to disqualify you on the grounds that the contest is only open to citizens of Neopia, which you are obviously not. We can only hope that you and your brother aren't illegal aliens, and you can be sure we will check into the matter. Once again, thank you for attempting to participate!


The Neopets Team

The End

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