The Grey Reporter: Crazed Neopians Flock to Dump

     By Frovien, the Grey Reporter

     Author’s note: Dear Neopian, I thank you for taking the time to read this amateur reporter’s first attempt to bring news to the great pets of Neopia. My housemate, Alaerec the Scholar, has long believed Grey pets would make ideal reporters, suggesting that our steady emotional state might be conducive to writing fair and unbiased news articles. For my own part, I reminded him that the steady emotional state he mentioned is one of intense, unrelenting melancholy, and thus might render any article written to feel imbued with that Greyness which I experience in everyday life. After pondering for a moment, he said, “That might be interesting, too.” And thus, here we are.

      MERIDELL- Following reports of treasure at the Rubbish Dump, thousands of Neopians hoping to strike it rich have descended on the dump. While most left smelly, pockets full of gravel and old croutons, others claim to have found petpets, bottled faeries, paint brushes, and even the fabled dung catapult. Is there truth to these claims? If so, can the average Neopian hope to find success? I must admit to being of the opinion that finding any item aside from rubbish is highly unlikely, but nevertheless, I set out for the dump to investigate.

     It was a Grey morning, and the rain indicated it was a morning grey for all, and not just for me. Indeed, upon arriving at the Rubbish Dump, I found throngs of Neopians surrounding the dump. A Ghost Grarrl and a Starry Elephante were insisting upon a fee to enter and standing intimidatingly in front of the entrance, but a Cloud Ixi kicked them in the shins and they immediately started crying. Upon further investigation, the Cloud Ixi in question is not employed by the Rubbish Dump, and as far as this reporter could find, the Dump does not have any security aside from a dilapidated fence. Upon finding multiple holes in said fence large enough for a Skeith to fit through, I was distracted by the sound of an excited crowd.

     A Spotted Draik flew triumphantly from the dump, cradling a Turmac in her arms. Neopians surrounded her with awe and excitement. Fortunately (I suppose), she was willing to answer several of my questions. The Draik in question, Marjorie of Mystery Island, said she flew over as soon as she heard the news. “It only took me twenty minutes to find this Turmac!” Upon hearing this, a nearby Pink Lupe, covered in dung and strange green seeds, sank to the ground in despair (an emotion I recognized instantly since I experience it frequently myself.) I approached cautiously and came close enough hear the Lupe lament, while writhing in apparent agony, that they had been searching the dump for hours and all they had to show for it was a pile of soggy boxes. Being Grey, I have a tendency to bring further negativity to nearly any situation, so I returned to Marjorie, who was telling the others now that she had indeed seen “loads of other great stuff, it just takes a keen eye and the barest amount of effort.” Most Neopians listening felt encouraged by her words and hurried into the Dump to try their own luck. Marjorie also told me she has won the lottery eight times but she did not see what that had to do with anything.

     Chester, a Green Skeith who had been listening to Marjorie, complained to me after she left.

     “It isn’t fair! Some pets have wings. They can fly around and spot all the best items first!” He told me he, like the despondent Pink Lupe, had been there for hours. “I catch a glimpse of something and someone will pull it right out of my claws.” While speaking, his eyes grew wide with tears and he clawed at the air in the demonstration, lost his balance, and fell to the ground. He landed with what sounded like a painful thump on his full backpack, which split to reveal a stack of old papers and a copy of How its Dung. Chester had no further comments.

     I continued into the Dump to get a better picture of the scene. I was amazed by what I saw; Rubbish in every direction, piled high above the fences, as far as the eye could see. (I am a Jubjub and not very tall.) Neopians were all over the place, digging through the piles and shouting when they caught sight of something. Some had come wearing boots, raincoats, and gloves, while others accepted that they would need to go home and shower thirteen times regardless. As I made my way through the dump, I saw many cases that resembled both Marjorie and Chester: Sueann, Shadow Kau, 2.5 hours, Bottled Air Faerie. Averian, Eventide Gnorbu, seventeen hours, nine bits of barbed wire and a broken spoon. Kareem, Blue Shoyru, forty-five minutes, Apple Core. (He insisted this was a rare and valuable find; I looked at him dubiously but did not disagree.) Svetlana, Candy Aisha, six minutes, Darigan paintbrush. Jared, Gold Bori, ten hours, ten squished tomatoes. Meeting all these Neopians felt akin to being on a raft tossed about in the sea. Those who had found something were overjoyed and cheerfully insisted it was possible for anyone. Those who had spent hours only to find nothing—or, might I suggest, worse than nothing—seemed cloaked in desperation.

     I had found the answer to one of my questions. The Dump, undoubtedly, did have treasure. But at what cost? And where was the treasure coming from? Though in the past I’d heard rumours one could find something, most of us thought it as likely as Fyora calling you up to have a Neocola after work on Friday. I sought out the proprietor, the Blue Kacheek. Predictably, this was fruitless (unless you count the inordinate amount of squished tomatoes I walked through to get to him.) His response to each of my questions was to smile mysteriously and say, “Have a look through. You may find some exciting stuff!” While he spoke, a Green Kiko behind him tripped and bounced down a mountain of rubbish, landing with a splash in an enormous puddle of Meridell gravy.

     As it turned out, some Neopians are suspicious of the recent changes at the Rubbish Dump. Take, for example, the Ixi who owns the successful shop Ye Olde Petpets.

     “Demand for my petpets has dropped since Neopians started gathering at this dump! I just know one of my enemies is behind this.” (The idea of petpet shop owners having enemies was an idea that, I confess, both fascinated and intrigued me, and may well be the subject of one of my future articles.) She revealed that her most recent shipment of petpets has been delayed, and she suspects foul play. While she declined to comment further, one of her assistants, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said in a hush, “There’ve always been others who are jealous of her success. Everyone wants a Turmac, but they aren’t easy to come by, you know. How is it that now a hoard of them have turned up at the Rubbish Dump? It’s cruel to the petpets, and it’s preposterous to imagine they ended up there of their own accord. This is clearly an attempt to undermine business at Ye Olde Petpets.”

     Others found this a thin argument. Professor Everton, a Desert Scorchio who refused to provide his credentials, said, “If Turmacs have always been so difficult to come across, why are so many appearing now? It seems someone has been hoarding Turmacs in order to increase profits.”

     Shopkeepers were not the only suspicious parties. A spokesneopian for Darigan Citadel said, “Paint brushes? Hidden tower items? Where are these items coming from and at such high frequency? One must wonder whether or not King Skarl has a hand in this.” When asked what motive Skarl would have, the spokesneopian scoffed. “These Neopians spend hours at the dump. They’re tired, hungry, and smelly. Of course they’ll want to find a place to get something to eat, and they smell so awful that they’ll want to stop at the all-new, terribly expensive Clean Showers Central, located only in Meridell.”

     Despite the controversies, and though this reporter finds it bewildering, most Neopians are still optimistic about their chances. To the average Neopian, spending the day looking for treasure is an exciting prospect, and the idea of potentially finding a Jhudora Doll in the dump can make all but the Greyest of souls (such as my own) feel hopeful.