| Voice of the Neopian Pound |
Circulation: 193,800,643 |
Issue: 715 | 15th day of Sleeping, Y18 |
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We found the following 7 result(s) for the keyword opossumman
Week - 644
Life's A Stage
by opossumman | | Description: He brushed off his sweat-covered brow with his paw and adjusted his goggles. "There, that should do it..." |
| Week - 668
Returning to Brightvale University
by opossumman | | Description: "It's from Brightvale University... I did my graduate studies there," Jacob explained. |
| Week - 674
A Not-So-Stealthy Christmas Tale
by opossumman | | Description: The clerk looked at the ID. "Well, when you contacted us and claimed you were an Eyrie named Stealth, I figured you would have been, well, Stealthy, and not Silver." |
| Week - 676
Of Time Machines and Banana Cookies
by opossumman | | Description: "I didn't want to get your hopes up if it didn't work. Time travel's already a proven concept, it's just incredibly hard to pull off." |
| Week - 677
Two Moltarans Walk Into a Lodge...
by opossumman | | Description: "And whatever you do, don't use the swimming pool." |
| Week - 700
The Purpose of the Press
by opossumman | | Description: 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.” |
| Week - 715
Agent 42
by opossumman | | Description: Jacob flicked the switch on the coal-sorter and waited on baited breath. This would be the one, surely. The Christmas Kacheek had spent far too many hours on the device for it to backfire again. Slowly one steam-powered rotor began to turn and moved the coal from one pile into its internal furnace. It worked just as planned: a breakthrough, in his eyes. |
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 Anneslace and the Imposter Apple
Anneslace bolted upright in her bed. “A Krawkadon? In the galley? I told Sam he could get a nice, sedate Plathydon, not a Krawkadon.” She paused. “How much… how much food is left?”
by peirigill |
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 Bottled Faeries Inc.: Part Three
I had never found the dark scary as a young child. I had never trembled in bed at night, conjuring up imaginary monsters that purportedly lurked beneath my bed, behind my dresser, and inside my closet. But after the Kougra thrust my bottle into the depths of his backpack, I felt a jolt of fear unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
by vanessa1357924680 |
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