From His Side - The Tiki Tack Man by noremac9 |  |
The Tiki Tack man sat back in his chair and relaxed;
though his mind was tense. Why do they hate me; what did I do? He thought
about the same thing almost every day. He gave out items to everyone in Neopia,
he fought in the Battledome and complimented on their attacks, and even if they
didn't win at the Tombola
stand he would sometimes give them a little extra, and after all that, they
hated him! He pondered it day after day, week after week, yet he could never
come to a conclusion. Everyday he worked in both the Tombola stand and the Tiki
store (don't ask how), he was just as friendly to his customers as anyone else
was, and yet they hated him. But his breakfast break was over; it was time to
go to work (okay, so even he admitted it wasn't work, but it was the closest
he'd ever gotten to a real job).
He took down his "Gone, be back in an hour" sign
and immediately after he did a huge crowd swarmed the stand. They all drew a
ticket, some cursed their luck and others were thrilled with their winnings.
Most of the pets that received a booby prize snarled at him before leaving.
I give them a prize, and they insult me! Where did I go wrong? he thought,
just as he had done countless times before. He thought coloured sand was pretty
neat thing to give out; you couldn't find it anywhere else. Some pets just didn't
seem to appreciate it.
After several hours, he was out of NP. He needed
to go get more items, but his bank account was as empty as ever. As usual, he
asked for donations. The crowd was outraged.
"I thought you were the one giving prizes! You
won't scam me out of my hard earned NP," shouted a young Poogle, furious
that he wanted a donation.
The Tiki Tack man was used to this, he had memorised
his response.
"That's okay, Mon! This is an optional donation
only. And, Mon, if you think about it, 1,843,657 Neopoints isn't that much!"
he replied automatically.
The majority of the crowd left, but a few of
the pets dropped some NP into the donation box. It wasn't much, but it would
go towards the gapping whole in his account. Soon, they too were gone, off to
wander the busy streets of Mystery Island. Every few minutes a stranger would
come by and give him some NP, but it was slow going. An hour and a half later,
he was back in business.
Three donation rallies and half the day later,
it was time for his second break. The Tiki Tack Man was starting to question
his purpose in life. He didn't know what it was about that day, but he was beginning
to see something: no one cared. No one cared about him, or who he was trying
to help. They only cared that they could get Codestones and paint brushes from
him, not about how he was trying to make Neopia a better place. Maybe if he
hadn't spent all his inheritance on his massive supply of the infamous Pickled
Olives, he wouldn't have to get donations, and then they would appreciate him.
But he knew better than that. Sure, they used to appreciate him more, but he
couldn't help the fact that he was broke. And because he was broke, they hated
him. Yet if he went out of business they'd be even angrier, which wouldn't help
the situation at all. Once again, his short break was up and angry Neopets were
already waiting for him to reopen.
It had been a long day for the Tiki Tack Man,
he was happy to be heading home to his pets. He had managed to keep his pet's
identities secret, and of that he was glad. They didn't need to take the abuse
he did; it wasn't their fault he was hated. He took his mask off and greeted
his pets, he would have loved to spend time with them, but he was deathly tired.
The constant complaints, quarrels and praises that went on at his little shop
sure didn't help his fatigue. He crawled into his dried bamboo bed and began
to count the four-hundred-something bottles of red sand in his room...
He awoke the next morning to the feeling of his
Gelert's warm tongue licking his face.
"Hey, Mon, what time is it?" He asked his pet.
The Gelert stopped licking him and replied, "It's
six o' clock NST, you better get going, Dad."
"Oh yeah, Mon, I gotta go!" he said, getting
out of bed and putting on his mask.
He polished his mask, put on his island shirt and grabbed three bags of real
prizes. The booby prizes were already at the stand, hundreds and hundreds of
them in heaping piles, hidden out of sight. But for the first time in all his
life, he didn't want to go to work. What am I accomplishing? It seemed
to be the only thing he could think about lately. Maybe it was because of a
Battledome match where a Kyrii screamed "And that's for giving me junk, you
failure!" with fire in her eyes. Whatever had caused it, he couldn't shake it
now. Maybe those thoughts were right, after all. Maybe no one would care if
he closed down the Tiki Tack Tombola stand. The thought had already crossed
his mind once that day, and he knew the answer. Closing down would worsen their
dislike for him. They want to win all they time, that's the only thing to
keep them happy. But it was obvious that that was impossible for him to
do, he would need donations every few minutes to do that. Suddenly, it occurred
to him that he was already ten minutes late for "work". He grabbed his bags
and ran out the door, amazed that he had been lost in thought for so long.
There was already a large crowd waiting for him,
angry that he was late. He opened up the stand and, as usual, hundreds of pets
lined up to get tickets. At first, the majority of the pets were winners, which
made them very happy. Soon, however, there were just as many losers, more actually,
as the lucky ones. This was the part of his "job" that the Tiki Tack Man hated:
the angry customers. And for once, he decided he didn't have to take it, he
might as well give them his mind.
"Sand! Again? What, do you think I'm a sand lover?
Why don't you give out real prizes, mangy masked man..." said a Shadowed Shoyru,
unhappy with his "prize".
"Oh yeah, Mon! Well guess what, that sand wasn't
free! Maybe you don't collect sand, but it's better than nothing is! If I had
given you nothing you would be even angrier! And guess what, Mon, everybody
can't be a winner! So go, Mon, go bother some other shopkeeper with your childish
attitude. I work hard enough; I don't need some jerk of a pet pushing me around.
Now get out, Mon, before I call in Tekkitu to curse you for life!" The Tiki
Tack Man yelled, pouring all his anger into the words.
Needless to say, the Shoyru was stunned. He didn't
know what to do, nor did the rest of the crowd. The Shoyru spread his black
wings and flew quickly away, in fear of The Tiki Man's warning. The Tiki Man
was thrilled with this new development, his harassers were now afraid of him.
Now, just maybe, the pets would appreciate him. But no, he had only scared those
that openly insulted him, something that probably increased their dislike for
him. It was beginning to look hopeless for The Tiki Man, and he started to wonder
if he'd ever be happy. No matter what he did, he would be hated. If he stayed
in business, they would hate him. If he went out of business, they would be
furious. No matter what, he was cursed to a life of being loathed. It didn't
used to be this way. When he first opened, everyone came to him contentedly,
and they were only disappointed when they lost, not enraged. Then he fell on
hard times, he couldn't give out as many prizes, and he needed donations. Then
he saw how shallow Neopians were, and what a surprise it was. He thought they
liked him, he thought he was well respected, but he learned all too quickly
that he was just a vending machine to them, and a free one at that. Was it the
change in his prizes, or the change in Neopians? Of which he was not sure, but
either way had the same result.
The rest of the day went uneventfully, no one
dared bother him for a while. Finally, the burning red sun of Neopia dropped
slowly behind the endless palm tress, and it was time for him to go home. Walking
down the streets and watching every owner go back into their house was probably
the most painful experience of his life, because he was bound. He was bound
to the Tombola Stand, and bound to be the giver of prizes. There was nothing
he could do; he would always be The Tombola Man.
He got back home to his pets, and they were quick
to pick up on his mood.
"What's wrong, bad day at work?" his Flotsam
asked him innocently.
His mask was still on, which was good, because
underneath it there was such a grimace, one his pets didn't need to see.
"You could say that, Little Mon," he replied,
using the affectionate nickname he had given to his youngest pet. "It was rough:
more angry customers. They don't care about me, they just wanna win."
His Flotsam hugged him, and his other three pets
joined in. It reminded him of something, of what he really was; he wasn't just
the Tombola Man, he was an owner. He didn't know what it would take for others
to see that, nor if they even could, but he knew that was what they didn't understand.
Lately, he had been spending less and less time with his pets, due to bad working
hours and exhaustion, but now he remembered what it was like to sit down and
talk to them, and he missed them. His whole life had become the Tombola, and
no one appreciated his sacrifice. Tears welled up in his eyes; he couldn't hold
them back anymore.
"Dad?" asked his Gelert, "What's wrong?"
The Tiki Man broke into a sob. His own pets were
so innocent, why weren't the others? It wasn't just the pets, it was the owners,
were they the problem? He didn't know any more, he was tired of his struggle.
He held his pets, they were all that he had, and they were enough.
"We're all we need," he muttered. "And you guys
are all I have..."
The End |
