Music and Mystery - the Truth Behind Those Pianos

“Grand piano,” he explained, with a wry smile. “I keep telling her not to throw them but you know how it is-”

He was cut off by a cry of, “INCOMING!” and a missile, which later turned out to be a large stick of rock, narrowly missed us by inches. Mika looked at me, shrugged, and said amiably, “We’ve got to get more stuff from the attic to sell. We restock eight times an hour, you know.”

I helped the little Chia up, dusted him down and tried to chat to him. This was rather more difficult than expected, however, because we had to dodge the falling items that came crashing around our heads.

“Is, er, Carassa feeling OK?” I asked, quickly sidestepping a polka-dot umbrella. “Not suffering from, er, moodswings? Y’know, hormones, that sort of thing?”

Mika deftly caught a bottle of potion, whizzing off to catch another. “Oh, she’s fine,” he called as he slid to a halt to grab the plummeting bottle. “She just gets a bit… overenthusiastic when she throws stuff down to me.” With that, the little Chia jumped up to snatch a huge black ball, which had been thrown with such force that it practically bowled him over. Clutching the ball, which he could barely get his arms around, he bounced a couple of time and then finally rolled to a stop, where he lay panting. Dazed, he looked at the thing he had wrapped himself around and groaned. “Not another bomb…”

It was this surreal incident that came to mind when I sat at my typewriter in Meridell (they don’t have the internet there, yet) to write an article for the Neopian Times. Those funny little Chias had always fascinated me. They were always smiling as they handed over bargain after bargain. But we’ve all asked ourselves questions about them: When are they going? Where did they get all their stuff from?

The thing that concerns me is those grand pianos. An ordinary piano alone costs well in the region of 12,000 NP – I dread to think what a proper grand piano would cost. And they look like quality grands, despite Carassa’s carelessness with them. So, leaving aside the intriguing question of how she manages to lift the things (I certainly wouldn’t be able to, and I’m not even a Chia with stubby arms), I have to ask myself why they have so many and where they got them from.

I’ve been sitting at this typewriter for about seven hours now, my brain frazzled with repeated attempts at Typing Terror (must… resist… subliminal… messages) and happy, E-number-filled licks of a Neo Cola Chia Pop, trying to figure out this musical mystery. And as the last neuron makes a weary fizzle, I come to some disturbing conclusions.

Mika and Carassa must be involved with that odd little Kyrii who runs the music shop in Neopia Central. That has GOT to be the only way to get a regular supply of grand pianos. I suspect there are cavernous secret tunnels dug through the ice, which come up in the cellar of the shop. They probably get discounted rates or something.

But why? For what possible purpose could those Chias want hundreds of grand pianos? Surely not just to give light slapstick entertainment to the masses who play the game? No, this requires more thought.

That’s IT! Mika and Carassa must have set up a secret orchestra somewhere for frustrated little musical Chias. It’s the only logical conclusion. Just imagine those little Chialets, blowing away on their saxophones, hammering away on their pianos, plucking away on their violins…

Excuse me for a moment. That image of a Chia playing a violin is just too funny. Now, where was I? Oh yes. Chias. Pianos. Conspiracies. That sort of thing.

Anyway, the more my fevered brain contemplates this, the more it starts to make sense. Why would a bunch of Chias want to create a secret orchestra? Well, it’s obvious. They must be the composers of those catchy little Neopets flash game background tunes that leech into your head and won’t let go, like those little sticky fuzzy balls you get when you walk through long grass, or a shower curtain in a hotel when you turn the shower on. You know the ones I mean – you’re busily navigating a Quiggle to catch flies, concentrating intently on the screen, when all the time in your ear is a jaunty little tune that goes on and on, with its perpetual yet hypnotising bassline that wears you down and makes you feel veeeeeery sleeeepy and want to buy a green Chia plushie for some strange reason. Oh yes, you thought that Chias were the 27th most popular Neopet because they were cute and cuddly and happy? Well, they can’t fool me.

Taking this through to its logical (and disturbing) conclusion, I am beginning to understand why Carassa has so many bombs in her attic. Perhaps that Kyrii in the music shop is sick and tired of helping the Chias with their plans for Neopia domination (Oh yeah, and you thought Dr Sloth was a megalomaniac? You ought to see a Chia deprived of asparagus) and so he decided to pull out of the deal. Perhaps Mika and Carassa didn’t fulfil their promise that they would include a subliminal message of, “Kyriis are great” in the new flash game. Perhaps they needed a threat to silence the immaculately-dressed Kyrii. Perhaps that sly little Ixi is selling off the rest of the musical instruments in his Shop of Mystery.

Perhaps I need to stay off the Neo Cola Chia Pops. I think they’re putting something in them.