How I Survived the Weekend-Part One
by doug_fairchild
Chapter One-Sibling Problems
"Will you get out of the bathroom!"
My sister's exclaimation snapped me out of my daydream and I fell headfirst into the bathtub. Mercator the puppyblew barked loudly as water went everywhere.
"Geradus!"
That would be my sister Citrine. She hates my guts, bad hair days, and being related to us.
I might as well explain why Citrine was so mad. I was working on my science project in the bathtub for so long that she went to shampoo her hair in the kitchen sink. The sink got clogged last night when I ditched my oyster salad and it soon became so gross that Citrine abandoned the effort.
She was now hurling asparatwigs at the bathroom door.
I finally gave up and stormed out of the bathroom.
I decided to go to the games room to play a couple of rounds of volcano run. After I got back it was almost dinnertime.
"Citrine! Did DF go and buy more shampoo for you or something?"
"No," she sniffed obnoxiously. "He went to get more conditioner for me."
DF is my owner. It stands for Douglas Fairchild but he shortened that to Doug Fairchild. He also goes by his alter-ego, Sigmund Freud. I mean, there has got to something wrong with that. Sigmund Freud is this dead human who I know zilch about.
Since he wasn't home and we were hungry we decided to go after him. Citrine and I were what humans call teenagers. Now you should be able to figure out why we call ourselves the Teenage Spies.
We prepare for anything which may explain why Citrine was bringing along several pairs of super hemlock darts fastened to large, droopy nets.
Since we knew where our owner last was, we went to the grooming parlour. But when we got there...
To be continued...
Author's note: I love cliffhangers! Don't you? But the grooming parlor can't house a threat to Neopia, can it? Or can it?
by doug_fairchild
Chapter One-Sibling Problems
"Will you get out of the bathroom!"
My sister's exclaimation snapped me out of my daydream and I fell headfirst into the bathtub. Mercator the puppyblew barked loudly as water went everywhere.
"Geradus!"
That would be my sister Citrine. She hates my guts, bad hair days, and being related to us.
I might as well explain why Citrine was so mad. I was working on my science project in the bathtub for so long that she went to shampoo her hair in the kitchen sink. The sink got clogged last night when I ditched my oyster salad and it soon became so gross that Citrine abandoned the effort.
She was now hurling asparatwigs at the bathroom door.
I finally gave up and stormed out of the bathroom.
I decided to go to the games room to play a couple of rounds of volcano run. After I got back it was almost dinnertime.
"Citrine! Did DF go and buy more shampoo for you or something?"
"No," she sniffed obnoxiously. "He went to get more conditioner for me."
DF is my owner. It stands for Douglas Fairchild but he shortened that to Doug Fairchild. He also goes by his alter-ego, Sigmund Freud. I mean, there has got to something wrong with that. Sigmund Freud is this dead human who I know zilch about.
Since he wasn't home and we were hungry we decided to go after him. Citrine and I were what humans call teenagers. Now you should be able to figure out why we call ourselves the Teenage Spies.
We prepare for anything which may explain why Citrine was bringing along several pairs of super hemlock darts fastened to large, droopy nets.
Since we knew where our owner last was, we went to the grooming parlour. But when we got there...
To be continued...
Author's note: I love cliffhangers! Don't you? But the grooming parlor can't house a threat to Neopia, can it? Or can it?