(Yet another Honeyphos fan-fiction! I am so glad you guys continue to support me and give me reviews. If you want, you can always find me on DeviantArt! But, yes, as usual, thank you sooooo so much! I hope you enjoy this story too! -Itite Emakoiji xxx)

Ever wondered what it would be like to dig a huge hole? Ever thought of putting something in the huge hole? Strangely enough, as I lay in the dark one night, listening to the trees rustling and the wind blowing through the open window of my house, I did. Just that small, childish feeling of suddenly wanting to dig a hole. I had a purpose, of course, but I just didn't have the time. There was so much I had to do with other projects that I couldn't possibly think about shifting all that dirt myself. But, of course, as there always is, help is out there somewhere. I just had to find it.

So I find myself simply writing an advert. An advert for a strong person willing and with enough time on his hands to dig a hole. It's a little bit weird, I will admit, but what else do I do? I've got too much going on to do it myself, even though I would like to. I have done a couple of adverts, but they are not the type of thing I want:

DIGGER WANTED!

Xephos, hard-working spaceman, wants a large hole to be dug. If you think you have the brawn for such a task, please contact him!

Tel: 68888-453267

E-mail: xephos_rieker

House: The Red House with the Blue Door on Rose Hill

See what I mean? This type of advert wouldn't reel anybody in to help me. Maybe if I give it more details…

DIGGER WANTED!

Xephos, hard-working spaceman, wants a large hole to be dug. He is unable to do it himself due to his overwhelming, and amazingly promising projects. If you think you have the brawn for such a task, please contact him!

Tel: 68888-453267

E-mail: xephos_rieker

House: The Red House with the Blue Door on Rose Hill

The first time I looked at it, I thought "yes, this is perfect," but now I look at it again… who cares about my problems? And I've made it sound quite egotistical too… I sit back and sigh. It is stressful, no matter what anyone says, trying to find the right words to create persuasion. I try again:

Xephos is looking for help!

Are you keen to help out a distressed spaceman? Or are you just an excellent hole digger? Whatever it is, if you want to help me, contact me A.S.A.P.!

Tel: 68888-453267

E-mail: xephos_rieker

House: The Red House with the Blue Door on Rose Hill

That should do it! It's much better than the other ones, in my opinion! But something is still missing… that little bit of oomph that will make it stand out. Maybe if I try…

HEY! Xephos needs YOUR help!

Are you keen to help out a distressed spaceman? Or are you just an excellent hole digger? Whatever it is, if you want to help me, contact me A.S.A.P.!

Tel: 68888-453267

E-mail: xephos_rieker

House: The Red House with the Blue Door on Rose Hill

There we go! Now to take it around and put it somewhere everyone can see it. I think I will start with the plaza. It's a popular place and someone is bound to see it there. If not, I can always take it further away, or ask people personally. But I've not got time just now. I will take it to the plaza and put it on that notice board. That should attract someone. Every time I've been, I've passed at least three people up by the notice board. This should be perfect.

I set out, three copies of my advert in hand. I always get slightly paranoid that something will happen to my stuff, especially if it's only on a small piece of paper. I have one copy, the last one I copied out, on bright yellow paper. Lots of adverts are on bright yellow or green paper, though, so I do hope that mine will have some impact. I don't dare put them in my pocket. What could happen to them then?! They'd get creased and folded and they'd look unprofessional! I got cramp from copying these out by hand; I was taking so much care.

Up ahead, I see a huge crowd of people, armed with different sorts of items. They are obviously together; maybe a bunch of tourists. I've seen a few of them before, though. And there always seems to be that old man who is sitting on the edge of the wall in which the garden is, running his hand through his beard. I move past the people and make my way up to the notice board. Four people are there today. As I draw nearer, I see a brunette girl take a paper off the notice board, leaving a space for my advert. I hadn't lost any of my copies, so I put up another one but left the last one. I stuff it in my pocket and sit down at the plaza for a while. It becomes quieter and the birds return. The large group has just left and the sun is starting to go down. I hadn't realized quite how long I was doing the adverts for. It must have been a while.

I look over and see a red-headed small man looking at the board. He, too, doesn't take my advert. I sigh quietly to myself. Oh well. I can do nothing but wait. I've done all I can do and I am proud of it. I've done all I can do. Well, almost everything. I don't even know why I want a big hole dug. I have an inkling of an idea for a project I could do, but nothing concrete at the moment. I guess all I can do is wait and think. Wait and think. Until someone comes to my rescue and helps me out, I guess. I take one last look at the adverts, stand up, and, with the sun setting behind me, I begin the long walk home. Hoping that soon, someone will come to my rescue. My metaphorical Lancelot!