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Neopia's Fill in the Blank News Source | 5th day of Running, Yr 23
The Neopian Times Week 94 > Short Stories > The Revelation

The Revelation

by battlesunn

I was, am and probably always will be, a male, blue Gelert. My name, something that I knew from the moment that I hatched, is Sulliion.

     It is a beautiful evening, as it always is, at the Money Tree. My owner and I are trying to get some free items to feed ourselves, or at least, to feed me. I’ve never seen my owner eat any Neopian food. I don’t think it matters, because I cannot get any of those items, anyway, not before someone else does.

     "Drat."

     "What?"

     "Failed again."

     "At what?"

     "Money Tree."

     "Cry me a river."

     "It was a ghost, mother."

     "Hmm, is that true, or is my little Gelert making up a story to cover his own failed attempt at freeloading? Not quick enough, were we Sulliion?"

     "Oh dear, my full name. You must be quite mad at me now, mother."

     "All in good humor, Sull."

     I sigh. I do that a lot. Sighing, that is. And a lot of eye rolling. Then again, so does my owner, which is probably where I pick it up.

     We are a classic owner/pet duo, poor and left scrambling for worthless items at the Money Tree. I’m not all that good at it, and neither is mother. (My owner) ?It isn’t so bad, though. I have my red Kacheek Plushie, more of pink color, really, and a blue Lupe Plushie. It is a light blue color, almost mauve. I hate it. I’m a Gelert. I should have a Gelert Plushie. A blue one, preferably, as I’m blue. Neopets should all have a Plushie that looks like them. It should be a law. Wait, what’s a law?

     I look up at mother and sigh again, this time throwing in a nice shoulder slump. I wish I am starry, or maybe silver. But I’m not. I’m blue. Ah well, it’s nicer than red, at least. Red looks burgundy on Gelerts. I despise burgundy. Mother imitates my sigh, exaggerating it largely with great flourishes of her hands. Hilarious.

     I try to be an intellectual, sophisticated Gelert, despite my "average" intelligence level. How can something as abstract and complex as intelligence be measured by a small piece of text in a beige box on a Pet’s lookup? There are many frames and planes of intelligence. It is not something as simple as, "average" "above average" and "genius". A genius Pet will still be reduced to a slobbering animal is exposed to a succulent morsel of food.

     Ah, food. I am hungry. I always am, actually. I think that mother can sense my distress. Or maybe she just hears my stomach rumbling. Either way is fine… I just want some food. She rummages in her bag for a moment, her "inventory", before drawing out an old piece of Omelette. I give her my best look of disgust, with a raised brow and a partially opened mouth. As if I’m going to eat that. It’s been sitting in her bag for weeks.

     She shoves it in my mouth. I cough, sputter and gag as the omelette, or part of it, anyway, forces itself down my gullet. It won’t allow me to eat the whole thing in one bite, though. Now there is half an omelette. Surprisingly, it still tasted fine, even after being encased in mother’s inventory for so long. I eat some more of the omelette, and, strangely enough, find my hunger to be satisfied. How strange. There is still three thirds of the omelette left. I toss it onto a protruding branch of the Money Tree where it sits, perfectly poised and balanced, on the wood.

     Before I can blink, a Quiggle comes and snaps it up, choking it down without so much as a thought as to who was eating it before her. Honestly! If I was that careless, than I’d probably be suffering from some terrible disease right now…

     "Still hungry?"

     Mother has interrupted my train of thought once again. Drat. I snort and sneer; doing my best to look like a surly teenaged Gelert, even though I am only about ten hours old. That’s another odd thing. I was born ten hours ago, yet I already have a complete vocabulary and a fairly good understanding of astrophysics. Oh, life just got complicated. I must be moving on into those confusing adolescent years. I must not show it, though. I retrieve my stoic composure.

     "No mother, I’m fine."

     I suppose I sound too haughty, because she then replies with,

     "Well, you’re pretty uptight for someone who doesn’t wear any clothes."

     "I wear fur, mother, which the Neopet equivalent of clothing," I reply angrily, curling my long, ribbon-like tail around my ankles. Speaking of which, how do I support that tail, anyway? It’s about three feet long and thinner than a length of yarn! I open my mouth to ask mother, but she cuts me off. She chuckles, and ruffles my head.

     "Do you want to visit the Snowager?" she asks.

     "Why? All he doe is sit there. He won’t let us get past. It’s eleven PM at night, but he’ll be awake!" My voice is growing shriller now. "He’ll be awake! Even though he was asleep at four! What’s with that?"

     "I know why you’re so cranky!" she says, standing upright with her hands on her hips as though she’s just been elected queen of Neopia.

     "You want a petpet, don’t you?"

     I roll my eyes again, and shift uneasily. "No mother, I don’t want a Petpet."

     "Nonsense," she responds, still too set on her notion to even consider what I’m saying. "All the pets want petpets these days."

     She is speaking quite loudly, and people are beginning to stare. "Mother, I don’t want a petpet!"

     "Well, Sull, you’re just going to have to wait for awhile until our current financial situation gets a bit better," she muses.

     "For crying out loud! I don’t want a petpet!" I shout. Now everyone is staring. "It’s just one more mouth to feed, anyway." I continue. She laughs and pats me head again. I can just hear her saying, Poor, disillusioned Sulliion…

     "Silly Gelert! Petpets don’t need to eat."

     I rub my temples feverishly. I can feel another rant coming on. "Now that just doesn’t make sense!" I bark, my hackles beginning to raise. "That’s the problem with this place! Nothing makes sense! The Petpets don’t need to eat! You can’t eat pickled olives…" I grab a copy of The Neopian Times, Issue Three, off the Money Tree. "—And you can’t even read these! The pages are stuck together!" I shake it up and down in the air to demonstrate. Mother is looking nervous.

     "Calm down, Sull. The people are staring…"

     "They were staring before, mother! They can’t see us, anyway."

     Now she’s confused. "What do you mean?"

     Oh, I’ll show her what I mean. I have reached a revelation.

     "We aren’t real, nothing is! We’re just pixels, suspended in a pixilated world, where only my owner can see me, and she isn’t even here! She’s on the other side! She’s looking at me, not the other way around! Now she is fading, I can’t see, I’m not real! I’m just an image…" I trail off, I can’t seem to be able to speak any longer…

     "I know how to set everything back to normal for you, Sull," Mother says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the red, (not pink, red. The text says red) Kacheek Plushie and hands it to me. I sigh happily as I bury my muzzle in its musty scent. Everything falls back into place. The people are still staring; the petpets need to eat, The Neopian Times Issue Threes are readable…

     "Wow! This is such the coolest toy!"

Fin (The End)

Note: Confused? Yeah, me too. Think about it for awhile, it’ll all fall into place soon. Ah! I think I just got it! No wait, there it goes. Oh, and here’s my little disclaimer. Sulliion is an imaginary character, and so is his owner. I got his name by scrambling up the letters of the word "illusion". Clever, huh?

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