Big Big and Little Big: Part Two

     Bart and Bigsby both graduated in that class, both with honours. Bart was named hardest worker of the group and Bigsby the best sport and most friendly one.

     There was a grand celebratory picnic planned outside of the Haunted Woods, to the East a bit, where the students could actually be in the sunshine for the day.

     Bart wore his special hat and some new clothing his Mum had made from fabric Bigsby had given them.

     Bigsby wore a most dashing outfit he had made himself, and a pair of small spectacles as well, which made him look most distinguished.

     They ate and laughed and chatted with all their compatriots and enjoyed themselves most thoroughly.

     As the evening grew a bit later, the class and their families settled down to watch the stars come out.

     Bart rested happily in the grass, thinking about how lucky he had been to be a student at LOUSE, and to get to know such great people.

     Bigsby was thinking about the future.

     He had a grand idea of everything he wanted to do; so many things to be invented, and such grand fun he could give people. He wanted to go to a college in Altador, and had been saving up for it for a long time.

     Finally, he turned to Bart.

     "Little Big..." They still called each other by the nickname Bigsby had made up long ago. "Where are you going after this?"

     "Hm?" Bart said, turning to look at his friend. "Home, I guess."

     "No, no, what are you going to do with your life? Are you going to apprentice yourself and learn a trade? Are you going to make your own business? You want to go to college?" He looked hopefully at his friend, having stressed the last option a bit more than the others.

     "I don't know," Bart said. "I'd like to help me mum out. I don't want to run off and leave her and Gran all alone. So I'd best work nearby. Probably not going to school with as little as we have saved."

     Bigsby withered slightly. "But you could work your way through it!"

     "I don't think I'd like it," said Bart, shrugging. "I'm not as smart as you, Big Big. You can go far 'cause you have a good brain. I have to work hard to learn stuff and get right answers."

     But Bigsby hadn't given up.

     "We'd get through it together! Come on, how are you going to help me with my Game if you don't go to college with me?"

     Bart looked at him with a bit of surprise. He hadn't figured that's where the conversation had been going.

     "Well," he began, then coughed liberally. "Well, I could help with the simpler stuff, and you work the actual mechanics out yourself."

     Bigsby sighed.

     "Oh come on, Bart."

     Bart started. Bigsby hadn't called him that in years. It had always been "Little Big" or "Brother".

     "Huh?" he queried, voice wavering with confusion.

     "I told you to come on!" repeated Bigsby, getting a bit annoyed. "Bart! You're being so apathetic! You should take hold of your life and do something with it!"

     "I will, Big Bi-i-igsby!" Bart stuttered, stopping himself from using the nickname. "I'm just going so far! I'm going to take charge, but I'm staying near home is all!"

     "Ugh," groaned Bigsby, leaning back on his elbows. "I don't understand this, Bart!" Once more Bart twitched at the sound of his real name coming from Bigsby's mouth. "I always thought we had big plans together!"

     "I'M SORRY!" shouted Bart, making some the nearby graduates and their families start from their own conversations and look around. "I'm just not the same as you! I'll never be!"

     And he got up and stalked away, tears welling up in his eyes. Then he stopped, grabbed the hat he was still wearing, and threw it angrily behind himself and continued off.

     Bigsby sat in shock for a few minutes, then slowly got to his feet and retrieved the poor hat.

     "Bart..." he whispered. His button eyes glistened in the new moonlight, and that was as near to tears as a plushie could get.

     *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

     Bigsby went to Altador that Autumn. Bart stayed behind in Neovia, caring for his mother and grandmother. He started going to the Deserted Fairground a lot in search of friendship and camaraderie.

     The first time he ever stopped by, he was amazed by the games. They were so obviously unfair, but Neopets still flooded in to play them, losing Neopoints constantly.

     He settled down next the Coconut Shy and watched people attempt to knock off a coconut for one hundred neopoints a go.

     "This is amazing," he said to Leeroy in amazement.

     "Thanks, kid," the Quiggle said, grinning his fifty/fifty grin—fifty percent tooth, fifty percent gum. "It's a good living."

     "I'll bet!" said Bart, enthusiasm lighting up his face. "Do you need any help?"

     "Naw, I got the hammerin' and shoutin' and introducin' down myself. Why do you need a job?" He pushed some of his greasy hair out of is bulging eyes and fixed Bart with a calculatin' glower.

     "Oh, I'd just like to be able to support me mum and her mum," he said wistfully, watching as small neopets desperately tried to hit the rigged coconuts of there pedestals.

     "Hmm. Maybe you could ask Harker, the guy that runs Bagatelle." Leeroy jerked his thumb towards the equally rigged game not far away.

     "Oh. Thanks!" Bart exclaimed, and he got onto his feet. "Thanks for everything, Leeroy."

     "Not a problem, kid. Always like to help a fellow con." He winked brightly, then went back to explaining the how-to of the game to a young Aisha trio awaiting their turn.

     *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

     Harker looked critically at Bart.

     "Help?" he growled. "What could I need help with?"

     "I don't know. Polishing? Oiling? Watching the stand so you could have a break?"

     Harker barked with laughter. "Ridiculous! This ain't no fancy joint! Get goin', ya pest!"

     Bart nodded sadly, and trudged off to look for luck elsewhere.

     Arnold wasn't interested in help either and threatened Bart with his mallet, and Ssidney wasn't interested in him if he wasn't intending to buy a scratchcard. Lyanka, the worker in the Cork Gun Gallery, just giggled at him and asked him if he was maybe interested in working in the Carnival of Terror.

     Bart trudged moodily back to the Coconut Shy. Leeroy looked at him apologetically.

     "I suppose it was silly to send you running around everywhere," he admitted. "I should have known no one would want help; we don't like giving money to employees."

     "Thanks for telling me now," Bart growled.

     "But look, you're an enterprising lad," Leeroy said, smiling encouragingly. "If you make your own game, you can rival everyone here! You'll be your own boss, and just like us won't have to pay any employees!"

     "A Game...?" The thought of making a game brought back painful memories of Bigsby.

     "Yeah, sure! Whatever you fancy!" Leeroy said, spreading his arms expansively.

     "I don't know," Bart said, looking at his feet.

     "Well, you can always do something else now and make a game as a retirement option. That's what I did; I worked with coconut gatherers for years on Mystery Island, and now I run the Coconut Shy!"

     "Really??"

     "Yup," said the Quiggle proudly. "And in me twilight years I plan to move back there and spend my days on the warm beaches in luxury."

     "Thanks, Leeroy," Bart said suddenly. "I'll think about it."

     "Not a problem, kid," Leeroy said with a wink. "Not a problem at all."

     *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

     Bart got a job at his cousin's apple orchard in Meridell a month later. He spent a good deal of his time picking apples, sorting apples, and selling apples.

     Every Fall, the orchard had a festival with all sorts of apple related games.

     Bart ran to the Apple Bobbing Booth. His coworkers told him it was perfect for him: "Apple Bobbing Bart" they called him, and after that he figured it out.

     He knew where he was going.

     *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

     Bigsby sat in his workshop and smiled at his machine. It was a wonderful game that gave prizes he had lovingly hand-crafted himself, and utilized a claw. He was planning on submitting the idea of making it a Game at the Neocash Mall to the NC Mall Board of Directors very soon.

     He stood up, stretched his back and ran his fingers along the edge of the contraption with a peaceful smile. As he turned the corner, he saw a dim brown hat with a blue ribbon 'round it sitting next to the game.

     He sighed deeply.

     "Little Big, where have you gone off to?" He sighed.

     Just then a weewoo smacked into the window, carrying a letter.

     Bigsby opened the window and let it in, took the letter, and set it on its way again. He opened to letter to find the New Stuff Newsletter for the Influential. He had signed up last year, and got one every month.

     One of the articles mentioned a new area to open for Halloween. As he read further, his eyes opened wide. The paper slid from his fingers and he stood frozen.

     Finally he picked up the hat and left his workshop, and set off for the Haunted Woods.

     *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

     Bart smiled happily at his bobbing tank. It was smart, splinter free, and all the apples were ready. It was planned to open in not too long, and he was excited. Finally he'd have his own game, and he needn't be an employee or pay any.

     As he once more went over his inventory he felt a presence nearby the entrance to his tent. He turned around on his heel with a start, to find himself looking into the eyes of one Bigsby Shadington.

     "So you did make a game..." Bigsby said, looking around. "A dishonest game."

     Bart nearly sobbed. "Bigsby-"

     "No no, don't apologize." Bigsby held up a hand and smiled. "I shouldn't have left you alone to be mentored by crooks. But I see it's not too bad. You don't take any initial money until the others do."

     Bart nodded silently.

     "But that's not why I'm here, really. I just thought I ought to give you this." And he proffered the hat for the second time to his friend. "Every carnival barker ought to have a proper hat."

     Bart stared at him for a good minute, then slowly took the hat from his hands. "Thank you. Again," he whispered.

     There was a heavy, meaningful silence.

     "Welp!" exclaimed Bigsby, breaking the pause. "I must be going. I've got a game myself that I'm releasing soon, I hope. Good luck, Little Big!" And he smacked Bart briskly on the shoulder, grinned, and left.

     Bart stood in silence for a long time. Finally he raised his head slightly and looked sadly at the tent flap through which his old friend had just exited.

     "Good luck to you too, Big Big," he whispered.

     *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

     In Y12, as Autumn began, a new sort of Faire opened in the Haunted Woods. Neopians flocked to it in interest, and one of the main attractions was an Apple Bobbing Tank, run by a grizzled green Gnorbu with a slightly eerie hat.

     Not long after, a new game arrived in the Neocash Mall that had people so worked up they nearly split their seams.

     Both games have done quite well, and their creatures are now part of Neopian lore for forever.

     But neither will ever forget the other, and what might have been an even better game had they not parted ways. And some days, if you are lucky, you might seem them taking a walk together; an expansive, good-natured plushie Skeith and a green, grimy Gnorbu.

     And you might hear them call each other by the old nicknames.

     "Big Big?"

     "Yes, Little Big?"

     "Why don't you release a Wonderclaw Machine for Halloween?"

     "I shall. It's going to be gothic-themed."

     "Could I help you design some of the items?"

     "Sure thing, Little Big."

The End