A Typical Day In The Life Of An Enslaved Grundo

     T’Kar the Silver Grundo groaned as he was forcefully awakened by the intercom. It was going to be one of those days.

     Rubbing his eyes, he rolled off of his miniscule cot and inspected Sector 74-3, a.k.a. “his room”. It was empty – his roommates Oden, Yareth, and Duras had already left for work.

      “T’KAR!!! I DO NOT PAY YOU TO LAZE AROUND!! REPORT TO THE BRIDGE – WITH MY SLIPPERS – IMMEDIATELY!!”

      “No, you don’t pay me at all,” T’Kar muttered to his wall intercom. Still, the Grundo shuffled to his cramped bathroom and searched for his toothbrush. An Invisible Toothbrush = not the best idea. Finally, T’Kar unearthed a Zobamint plant beneath his bed. Shrugging, he popped a leaf in his mouth. His teeth wouldn’t fall out; he had no teeth to begin with.

     He trudged out of his room. One of his antennae smacked into the tight doorway, and he cursed Fyora loudly. Two Grundos ahead of him turned their heads and stared.

     Now, where would a washed-out doctor determined on enslaving a distant planet keep his slippers?

     The answer came to him immediately... or so he thought.

     T’Kar searched the Recreational Deck high and low, every nook and cranny. He ignored the calls and camera flashes of the tourists. He was a nobody; the Neopians were simply taking pictures of a random native Grundo.

     “Gargarox,” T’Kar asked when he reached Grundo’s Café, the final place he hadn’t checked, “have you seen Slo- I mean, Lord Sloth’s slippers?” The Mutant Grundo grunted incoherently and shoved a Squashed Salisbury Steak in the direction of a bored Blue Xweetok and her oddly-giggling owner. T’Kar sighed. This was really getting old.

     He continued downwards, in the direction of the hangar. On his way, he passed by an equally-bored looking Cloud Grundo clutching a coffee mug.

      “Alixia,” T’Kar murmured in greeting. The Cloud Grundo waved her mug (declaring her allegiance to Dr. Sloth, of course) in his direction.

     Where are those slippers? T’Kar wondered, almost half an hour later. He had already checked both the Recreation Deck and the Supply Deck – twice. Ooh, Dr. Sloth was NOT going to be pleased.

     He returned to the Space Weaponry shop. “Quatai,” he called to the shopkeeper. The Yellow Grundo glanced up and grinned.

     “Oh, hey, T’Kar! You sure you don’t want one of these hot-off-the-market ray guns? I’ll even discount the price for one of my best friends – only 17,533 neopoints!” Quatai announced, his antennae quivering in excitement. T’Kar swallowed.

     “As much exciting as a ray gun relying solely on the power of asparagus sounds, I need to ask you something. Have you seen the Doctor’s slippers?”

     Quatai rubbed his “chin” (really just the bottom of his face) and thought for a moment. “Um, did you check the Lever of Doom? He always likes to watch and laugh at the Neopians when they lose thousands of neopoints for the avatar.”

     T’Kar nodded. “Nothing. Not even a Lenny banging on the lever and screaming like last time. How can it be so hard to find a pair of slippers?!” T’Kar hollered, banging his fist on a nearby counter.

     “Well, I don’t know. Maybe they’re in the hangar or something.” Quatai shrugged. “Anyway, good luck.”

     T’Kar waved as he exited the shop. Maybe they ARE in the hang-

     “OOF!” T’Kar grunted as he slammed into a wandering Blue Uni and fell to the floor. The Uni somehow managed to stay upright, and reluctantly offered her hoof to T’Kar. He grasped it gratefully, and pulled himself up.

     “Hey,” T’Kar started, struck by a sudden flash of inspiration. “You haven’t happened to see a pair of Fluffy Cybunny Slippers lying around, have you?”

     The Uni stared at T’Kar for a moment, probably debating whether he was insane or not. “...No, I can’t say I... have...” she finally replied, her eyebrows (well, whatever they were) furrowed.

     T’Kar felt his face redden. “Oh... okay... never mind then...”

     The Uni stared for another second and abruptly left. T’Kar sighed. He was not a people person. He began to walk, unsuccessfully trying to forget the event, and eventually reached the hangar.

     No slippers underneath the Neverending Boss Battle ship. They weren’t near the Return of the Return of Doctor Sloth, either. Nothing at Typing Terror. Where could they be?!

     Suddenly, T’Kar stopped. “What am I doing?” he yelled, his voice echoing off the Space Station walls. “Am I really looking for a pair of SLIPPERS?!”

     The loudspeaker above T’Kar crackled to life, almost as if in answer, and he instinctively glanced upwards.

     “T’Kar to Doctor Sloth’s headquarters, I repeat, T’Kar to Doctor Sloth’s headquarters.” T’Kar froze at the sound of the monotonous female voice saying his name.

     No one was ever called to Sloth’s headquarters. Ever. T’Kar suddenly remembered the one Grundo who HAD been called to headquarters. His name had been... erm... what was it now... Tylix. Yes. Tylix. He was never heard from again; some of the older Grundos believed he had been tossed off of the Space Station.

     T’Kar really, really didn’t want to get thrown off of the Space Station.

     Slowly, he made his way toward the far end of the hangar. Nearby Grundos stared at T’Kar with looks of remorse and pity. T’Kar couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His feet moved without his awareness.

     Suddenly, all too soon, he was standing in front of the large iron door. T’Kar peered at the inscription: “Evil is simply a point of view.” Fitting last words. T’Kar knocked bravely on the door. It creaked open slowly....

     * * * * * * * *

      “It’s the perfect setup, sir, if I do say so myself,” the Robot Grundo stuttered.

     Dr. Frank Sloth sighed and cracked his knuckles. How many times had he heard this claim now?

      “No one will ever believe it was you, sir.”

     Sloth rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, silently calling for a Secret Sloth Slushie.

      “All of Neopia will crumble within your grasp!”

     A sweaty Yellow Grundo sprinted in, the slushie on a silver platter. He ran back out the second Sloth removed the slushie.

      “So... what do you think? ...Sir?”

     Doctor Sloth spat out the slushie. Sweet Fyora, it tasted terrible. Leaning forward and rubbing his temples, he glared at the now-trembling robot.

      “Let me get this straight. I turn every Neopet into... a faerie.” The Grundo nodded eagerly. “And this will help me take over Neopia... how?”

      The robot stuttered, “Well, since everyone will be a Faerie, they will all migrate upwards to Faerieland. Thus, no one will be left on Neopia, and you can easily conquer...” He trailed off as Dr. Sloth waved his wrist. Immediately, two Mutant Grundos leapt out of the shadows and dragged the poor Robot Grundo away.

      It was then he heard the knock, and watched as the Silver Grundo crept in...

     * * * * * * * *

      “Ah, T’Kar, I’m glad you came,” Doctor Sloth started. T’Kar opened his eyes (which he had been squeezing tightly in fear) widely. Had Sloth just... welcomed him?!

      “I found my slippers underneath my desk. Just thought you would want to know,” Sloth continued, casually propping his feet (encased in his Fluffy Cybunny Slippers)on his desk. T’Kar slowly nodded, still amazed.

      “Oh, T’Kar, by the way, I have a special job for you,” Sloth added. Images flashed in T’Kar’s mind: him painted as a Royalboy Grundo; him leading a successful invasion against Neopia; Sloth thanking him; a National T’Kar Day...

      “Oh, yes, sir, I’ll do it!” T’Kar exclaimed in excitement. Starting today, he would no longer be a nobody!

      “Alright, good,” Sloth responded, and rummaged around in his desk for a moment.

      He pulled out a toilet plunger.

      “The toilet in Sector 43-A is backed up – apparently a tourist ate too much of the Beef Rouladen, if you know what I mean. Take care of it now.” Sloth handed the plunger to T’Kar and swiveled back around in his chair, calling for another Secret Sloth Slushie. He couldn’t help it- those things were addicting.

      As for T’Kar? He stood there for a moment, grasping the plunger. Sighing, he trudged to Sector 43-A. He should have known.

     It was just one of those days.

The End

First submission! FTW! The Xweetok & the Uni are mine & I'm the giggling girl. :)