Failure : A Boochi Tale

     The thing is, he doesn't hear much about it these days. Most baby pets don't, considering people don't expect much of them to begin with. Failure is something to be expected by his kind apparently, to be cooed over and giggled at. They're shielded from the word entirely, as if success is such an impossibility, the concept of the opposite need not exist for them at all.

     He supposes he should take some kind of comfort from this, that people assume his failures are baby related and not Boochi related. But he knows the truth, knows that this failure is all his own. Because no matter how many times he tries, his Baby Ray misses its target.

     Every.

     Single.

     Time.

     He just doesn't know why!

     He isn't even sure when the change took place, when those missed shots became the norm instead of rarities, when Neopets stopped reacting to his dramatic appearances in fear - or in the rare, memorable cases, excitement.

     For better or worse, at least he's had time to think about it.

     The newest prison he's found himself in is by far the worst so far. The guards smile and giggle at him, not even the tiniest flicker of wariness in their eyes. Even the newer ones don't so much as flinch when they meet him, no matter how dirty a look he throws their way. It's frustratingly familiar behaviour by now, given that his failures are probably old news on Kreludor by now.

     Boochi sighs, searching his latest drawing for an answer that just isn't there. The crayons he's been provided surely violate some kind of right of his - they're far too clunky to even attempt actual writing. The effect leaves something to be desired, but at least Boochi can decipher his efforts even if the brainless Barlows watching him don't.

     His latest Baby Ray plan is perfect, not a single piece is out of place. He scribbles a few numbers in the margin, going over them again and again as if they aren't as perfect as they usually are. There's no reason that it shouldn't be functional, or at least not one that Boochi can see.

     One of the guards only adds insult to injury when they make their rounds. They gasp mockingly at his masterpiece, presenting it to his fellow captors with a flourish.

     "Look at this Spardel that Boochi drew! Isn't it just adorable?"

     The guard returns his work to him, along with a pat on the head and a chipper, "Great job, little guy!"

     Honestly, the nerve. As if they hadn't just humiliated him in front of his fellow prisoners. The cruel punishment is continued down the line of his brethren, the guard declaring that the Baby Poogle to Boochi's left had drawn a tree. Boochi sighs again in annoyance. It's clearly a depiction of The Fall of Faerieland, a tragic part of Neopian history that reminds him increasingly of his own life.

     The Poogle giggles in fake delight, obviously trying to mask their pain. Boochi gives them a look of sympathy, but the companionship is short-lived. The guards descend upon their prisoners like a pack of Werelupes, whisking them off to fates unknown.

     Boochi tries to prepare himself for his own but finds the effort futile when he sees their destination. Another trap chair contraption that makes avoiding what comes next impossible. He struggles valiantly with the straps while his captor opens a jar of the slop they dare call food here. The mush is scooped up with a spoon resembling a tiny spaceship, and the guard laughs as they make it zoom through the air.

     "Open wide, Boochi! Here comes The Coincidence!"

     Fyora, look at what he's been reduced to.

     He suffers through this latest cruelty silently, vowing to give these monsters no satisfaction as he's once again taken away. He clutches his Baby Ray plans tightly when he's deposited on the floor, and he looks around in dismay at yet another punishment.

     Large blocks are placed around haphazardly, clearly the materials for some kind of work camp. They're given no instructions on what they're meant to be making, and the material of the blocks is much too soft to abide by building codes anyway. Boochi points this out dutifully, but his advice goes unheeded. He's left only to watch in smug dismay as chaos erupts.

     Towers and houses and what appears to be a Dr. Sloth statue made by a determined Baby Grundo all tumble to the ground in quick succession. Their captors laugh at their misfortune, only gathering up the blocks and demanding in deceivingly sweet tones that they try again.

     Boochi is left to observe when a request that he join is met with a block thrown at a guard's face.

     Well into a near-endless stretch of ten minutes this torture extends before one of the inmates cracks under the pressure. Their defeated wail pierces the air before being joined by dozens of others. It's a moving display of solidarity, but mercy simply isn't a concept their captors are capable of.

     Boochi still knows a distraction when he sees one, though. Under the cover of anguished cries and shuffling feet, Boochi rolls through the wreckage of fallen blocks.

     There must have been some sort of prison reform, because at least this one has windows. They're a bit too high for Boochi to reach alone, and he silently mourns the building materials he'd left behind.

     He's nothing if not an improviser though, and finds an easy solution in a nearby Angelpuss plushie. Dragging it overtakes precious moments he doesn't have, but he's closer than he's ever been before. A burst of hope rides in on the breeze, and Boochi's seconds away from escape when his literal window to freedom is closed.

     "Careful, Boochi! You don't want to get hurt, do you?"

     Boochi recognizes the threat for what it is, even when the guard coos at him goofily. He has little time to mourn his latest failure, and clutches the plans still in his grasp as he's carried elsewhere.

     The newest method of torture takes place on a large Smiley rug. It's clearly meant to mock their misery, but Boochi will not be beaten so easily. He watches with stoic determination as a guard sits before them, opening a battered copy of Mystery of the Kougra Paw.

     It's a story they've heard too many times to count, (definitely at least twice) and Boochi begrudgingly commends their dark mastery. Several of his comrades are already dozing under the boring onslaught, their strength simply being outmatched at the hands of these monsters. The fallen are taken away one-by-one until only Boochi remains.

     He makes it to the end of the story by sheer determination alone. The guard grins dramatically when they reveal the mystery, as it can even be called that at this point. Everyone knows the mystery of the Kougra paw is-

     "Wow, you sure do like this book, huh, buddy? You make it to the end every time!"

     Boochi doesn't dignify this with a response, and definitely does NOT giggle when he's swooped into the air, thank you. He grips his plans close again as he's carried along. What cruelties could they possibly even have left at this point? His stomach rolls in dread, but he's only taken back to his cell.

     Boochi still grumbles as he's placed behind bars. A terribly bright blanket is given to him, along with a pat on the head that earns another grumble.

     Still, he knows from unwanted experience that it's best to play along. Boochi feigns sleep until the guard leaves to torment another poor soul.

     Once the coast is clear, he reaches under his pillow with a grim sort of determination. The other Baby Ray plans are still there, along with a broken crayon he'd stashed away. He splays them out to observe them all.

     It's a daunting thing to look at all of his failures at once, but the feeling of defeat he expects is strangely absent. Picking up the crayon, Boochi gets back to work.

     Because there's something to be said about failure, and Boochi thinks he knows what that is now.

     It has to end sometime.

     The End.