White Weewoos don't exist. *shifty eyes* Circulation: 175,178,063 Issue: 374 | 9th day of Sleeping, Y11
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The Horror! Clean Your SDB and Live To Tell The Tale

by asaneth


Enjoy! This article was written more for fun than to give practical advice. :P Remember, none of this is actually true!

Old, rotting sandals, Rockfish, dung... These items hide in hordes in your Safety Deposit box, making organization a dangerous task. After all, so much could go wrong! Avalanches, foul diseases, uncovering a hidden meepit nest...

Besides, what would you do with all that junk? Surely there’s no use for such items, other than to clog up the Thrift Shoppe and Money Tree?

Think again.

When I found myself staring into the dark depths of my own Safety Deposit Box – a precarious clutter of worm-ridden books and rotting fruit – I knew I needed some extra help. This help, and what I have learned from my experiences, I would like to introduce to you. In this way, we can create a brighter, cleaner (and better smelling) future!

My first interview was with none other than the Money Tree. I found him in the middle of Neopia Central, mobbed by neopets grabbing what they could and ghosts dropping off their goods. With a bit of fast talk and elbowing, I was able to make my way through the crowd and stand in front of the tree, who, as always, had a bright smile on his face.

“Take what you need,” he exclaimed, “but don’t be greedy!”

“Actually, what I need is some advice.” I dodged a small Wocky who had dived for a bag of neopoints, trying to keep my balance as I spoke. “You get a lot of junk, don’t you? Like rotten shoes, and burnt food?”

“Don’t I know it.” He relaxed, allowing his branches to hang limply. “Seems people aren’t as generous these days. Still, I do what I can...” With a gentle smile, he prodded a tiny Aisha, who happily took a Bitten Apple from his boughs. “Right, where, was I...? I do what I can to help out.”

His generosity put a smile on my face. “What about the stuff that’s left over? The stuff nobody wants?”

“Well, I know the Thrift Shoppe takes away all the clothes, but...” He shifted a root to bring my attention to the grass. “Ever wondered why it’s so lush and green around here? Compost! Tons of leftover ummagines and such, left to sink into the ground for the grass and my roots. It’s all much more appetizing than most people think.”

“Interesting.” I noticed the sun high in the sky, and with a sudden twist of my wrist, I waved goodbye. “Gotta run! Thanks for all the help!”

He didn’t get a chance to call back, as he was once again swarmed by hungry mouths and grabbing hands. As I made my way down the cobble-paved streets, I could hear him shouting – ‘Hey! Careful! One at a – ow! No pushing!”

For a moment, I pondered on how anyone could handle such a hard job – but then I found myself hurried along in the busy streets, and my mind and feet led me elsewhere.

“Welcome!” A soft bell cried aloud as I pushed open an aged door. “Welcome to the Thrift Shoppe! Please, feel free to look around – or are you here to donate?”

Although I blush, I admit it, I reached into my pocket and gingerly placed a lump of petrified dung on the Ruki’s counter.

“Ah.” His face fell. “More dung. Er... thank you.”

“Sorry.” My shame was replaced by nausea as he opened a large bucket and tossed it in. “Oh, that stinks! What will you do with it all, anyway?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised!” He grinned, slapping the lid back on with a snap. “Ever been to Tyrannia? Dung furniture is hugely popular there! The only problem, now, is getting it all there.” He frowned in thought, and then gave me a wry smile. “Looking for work? I’ll give you two hundred neopoints for each hour of cart-pulling!”

My reply was hasty as I found myself overcome with a sudden interest in my shoes. “Uh... no thank you...” I shuffled my feet, then quickly changed the subject. ‘So, ah... what about the other things? Old clothes and stuff?”

“Well, most of it is taken, but some is used to make new things, like quilts, or flags. Did you know that nearly a third of Doctor Sloth’s profits come from –”

Before he could finish, a swarm of robot Mootix buzzed into the shop, flying out the window as quickly as they came. They left everything – but not everyone. The Ruki was gone.

“Ah, well.” I shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

In any case, I found myself in sudden need of another source of advice. The only other place I knew was considerably farther away than anywhere else, but I knew that, for the sake of my deposit box (and my sanity) I had to make the journey.

And so, I found myself nestled amongst a bed of turnips and pumpkins, headed for the one and only Rubbish Dump of Meridell.

Many dusty roads and mashed marrows later, I was in the kingdom of giant vegetables and grumpy kings. It was with a deep breath that I headed towards the rubbish dump, praying that my trip here would be quick one.

“Oi! Whaddaya here fer?” The gruff Kacheek greeted me with a tilt of his hat and toothless smile. “I’ve got loads of chunky old porridge. Want some?”

“No, thanks.” I twisted my nose as the offensive smell became sharper. “Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Big city reporter, eh?” He raised an eyebrow, (or was that a smear of mud?) and slapped his hat on once again. “No wonder you ain’t used to the smell. Blimey, I love it.”

“You love it?” My jaw dropped in astonishment, but quickly snapped shut when I noticed the flies buzzily scavenging the pile.

He laughed loud, his belly rumbling as he chortled deep from his throat. “Don’t catch any flies there, city slicker! So, yer questions. Shoot.”

I swatted at the cloud of bugs before daring to open my mouth. “What do you do with all the leftover junk? I mean, it can’t be easy to dispose of...”

“Dispose of?” He cackled again, stabbing a pitchfork into the mound of muck. “Yer a slicker, all right. Ye don’t know what happens to it all? Ye haven’t noodled it all out?’

With a blank expression, I shook my head.

“The Turmaculus!” He flailed his paws in exasperation. ‘Ya think it can live off of a Spyder here and an Angelpuss thar? He needs a full twenty carts ‘o garbage each and every day.” The Kacheek shook his head, saddened by my ignorance of such obvious affairs. “Why, that’s the only reason he e’er wakes up!”

“I see.” Even from a distance, I could see the great body of the creature, it’s belly rising and falling as it’s snores rumbled across the farms. “Exactly what time is he feed, anyway?”

“Well, it’s usually at about – bah!”

The Kacheek shrieked as a cloud of tiny mootix invaded the rubbish dump. They swarmed thickly, so much that I couldn’t even see the farmer. With a harsh buzzing, they departed – leaving only a pile of garbage and an old, patched sunhat behind.

“Ooops. Maybe I should stop asking so many questions.”

It was then that I decided it was time to return home, and begin to delve through the horrors of my safety deposit box.

I mused on all I had learned, and how I should put it all into practice. As for you, my reader, I advise that you put the following advice to the test;

  • Use dung to spice up your neohome by bringing a primal feel into the living room.
  • Seek out pack rats who would love to have your extra trash.
  • Use old vegetables and fruits as compost to make your grass greener.
  • Bring your leftovers to the Turmaculus and see what happens!

The sun beats down upon my shoulders as I pen this, once again stuffed in the back of a wagon with assorted produce.

However, despite my discoveries and new experiences, I can’t help but feel slightly guilty for the sudden disappearance of the Ruki and Kacheek. Maybe I should report their disappearances, and what the Ruki told me about Slo -

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