"Weewoo in Training" by derrangeddragon "Wow, that storm really came out of nowhere!” I shout, struggling to push shut the large door of the Neopian Times office against the buffeting wind.
“Here, let me help you with that,” comes a voice from behind me. We struggle for just a moment before finally pushing the door closed. I'm tempted to collapse beside it, but this is my very first visit to the Times and I want to make a good impression. Instead, I brace myself and turn to meet my rescuer, a smiling Blumaroo. “Thank you so much!”
The Purpose of the Press The door to Professor Lambert’s chambers creaked open. The Gnorbu looked up from his daily reading and twitched his ear. “Ah, you must be Jacob, come right this way!” he said, motioning to the seat in front of his desk. “Now, I have your file pulled out already. I gave it a read over my lunch break, I hope you don’t mind. Your résumé is very impressive indeed.”
100 Reasons Why We Love Neopets: Celebrating NT700 We all play Neopets… but why? Everyone has their own interests and specialties, whether it be game trophies, restocking, writing, or much, much more. Curious about this question, Olly and Solo took to the boards and asked the general population.
The Neopian Times - A Chronicle In this article we’re going to give a history of the Neopian Times and how it has changed over the years, highlighting the issues worth a special mention. From those we’ll pick out a submission that is really worth a read and, hopefully, will tempt you to explore the rest of the issue.
The Legacy of the Black Pawkeet: Part Eight “Well what should we do now?” I asked Hannah as the Black Pawkeet once again pulled into the port on Krawk Island. We had made good time after rescuing her and Armin. It had only taken us a day to get back.
To Succeed is to Fail: Chapter One While my name, at the moment, lacks any significance or importance -- and perhaps it never will -- by the end of this tale your imagination will thrive on my alias, whatever alias slowly presents itself over the duration of this account. My image will dance throughout your memory indefinitely; nary a thought will your mind portray in which I fail to be present.