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"Supply and Demand" by vanillafilth
There was a time when they fell, when they were avalanches waiting to happen, nightmares of the claustrophobic. Around every cave and stream, in every nook and cranny, they were there. Since the world took its first breath they have scattered across every land in Neopia, as far down as the depths of Maraqua. Rocks. Rocks have been a constant for all of eternity, unassuming little things of great variety. Flat ones, round ones, strong ones, brittle ones, dark ones, light ones, and many other distinguishing qualities. No two are exactly the same. They’re fascinating in that regard, and it should certainly provide some comfort when you ask for a Weewoo and your mother insists on a pet rock instead. What your mother clearly doesn’t take into consideration is supply and demand. As established rocks are abundant, sure, but do mothers ever stop to think about the fact that every mother and their mother is telling their kid to get a rock? Evidently not. There was a time when the youth ran about with their Warfs and curled up on the couch with their Meowclopses, but those days are slipping away. Parents these days have become disillusioned- having had their fun with a furry companion as a youngster, they don’t feel the same void that their children do, and insist that a rock is a perfectly sufficient pet. Such is the case with little Berdamont the Korbat on one sunny afternoon in the bloom of spring.

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