A DESERTED VEGGIE FIELD – I stared in amazement at Colonel Cobb. “You! You, defiant
soldier! Look at your posture! Purely pathetic,” he spat at the turnip. He turned
to a brussel sprout. “And you. You think you can wield your sword, you think you
can defeat these Neopets in the next war, but you couldn’t hurt a Pink Lenny,
because you’re too puny, sprout!” I cocked my head and cautiously approached,
jotting down notes in my notebook. I watched from behind a bush as he continued
to scream and order random vegetables around.
“Colonel Cobb, sir? I’m from the Neopian Times, and I’m doing an article on
insanity – eh, on unique behaviors among Neopian citizens. I need to talk to
you and ask you a few questions – like why you’re screaming at that poor asparagus.
Asparagus has feelings too, you know.” Missy tapped my shoulder as I rambled
at Colonel Cobb about the civil rights of asparagus. When I finally turned to
her, she tugged on my sleeve, wanting to leave. I chewed the end of my pen.
I shook my head and looked at Colonel Cobb.
He looked at me gruffly. “Why am I screaming at Soldier Arseparagus? Because
he is being insolent and purposefully lying down when he should be doing his
push-ups. He won’t even stand up straight. I am making a soldier out of this
“Can you just answer one question for me? Why do you, uh, train these vegetables
to be soldiers?”
He drew himself up to full height. “The greatest dignity a soldier can have
is to be a well-trained soldier under a good colonel. These ruffians are going
to be fit and ready for when Sloth returns – for surely he will! My old captain
will be back soon and I’ll join up under him with my armies! SLOTH SHALL RETURN!
“If the vegetables don’t rot and be all smelly by then,” my Kau Darth snorted
under his breath.
Cobb continued to scream devotedly to his invisible leader. I sympathetically
patted a cabbage before edging away from Cobb and escaping to a safe haven.
What was I thinking of, going there, you ask? Cobb was a deranged war veteran.
I wanted to find some Neopians who were insane – truly insane, I mean, I could
find writers any time I wanted – and question them. Where does insanity stem
from? What causes it? What – agh, my brain hurts.
After some hemming and hawing over where to go next, I decided. My next stop
was Kyishi the Limbo Queen. I mean, honestly; anyone who spends nearly all her
time limbo-ing and declares her flexibility “her gift” must be half insane,
right? More than half? Maybe..? Please confirm my suspicions?
Anyway (with no confirmation of my own sanity, I might add) I traveled to her
small Neohome. “Kyishi? Are you here?” Zoe called. A young Aisha came out. “We’re
doing an article.”
“Yes? A reporter? Make it snappy, I do need to practice for my limbo competition.”
Kyishi talked very rapidly and moved a lot while she talked. I saw about twenty
limbos set up in her front yard. One had slick coconut oil beneath it.
“Why do you limbo, and why are you so obsessed with it? It’s not the greatest
thing in the world.”
“Sure it is,” she said. “It’s a beautiful activity, in which one becomes one
with the bamboo, one with the centimeter-stick, one with the art.” She was so
phony. Her personality was more see-through than the purpose of the editorials!
“I mean, you just lean under a stick and step a little, and that’s really it,
so – “ I babbled. Apparently this was the wrong thing to say.
“NO!” Kyishi said fiercely. “You have disrespected the delicate art of the
limbo! How dare you, impudent reporter!” She grabbed a limbo stick and began
to chase me. I grabbed onto Clownm’s feet and we flew away. Apparently, she
was insane. Or was she just fervent about limbo? Is that truly insanity? Or
– my brain hurts again.
I decided to find my next victim.
Flipping through the pages of the Neopedia, I stumbled upon Sir Fufon Lui.
He was a crazed Chia whom, it seemed, liked to pretend he was a mix between
Sir Lancelot and Sherlock Holmes. As I drew near his abode, I witnessed him
ripping a stuffed Lupe to pieces with his sword. “Varmint! Impertinent varmint!
Draw!” Fufon’s timorous assistant, Prowbert, jumped when he saw the five of
“M-m-master Lui! Look! Reporters!” he cried shrilly, pointing at us. “NT reporters!”
Fufon looked at us and threw back his one black lock of hair. “Mademoiselle,”
he said in an obviously fake French accent, “I am so honored to see you. I am
ze illustrious, well-known, famous, notorious Sir Fufon Lui, of ze Daft Faction
–“ He knelt and kissed my hand.
I nodded. “Um, yes. Let’s get this over with. Now, why do you do what you do?
Why do you harm innocent Neopians under the assumption that they are evildoers?”
Prowbert, murmuring something about a big mistake, sighed and shook his head
at his master, who was still wildly convulsing and ranting.
“- Three-time winner of ze Bizarre Balloonhead award – oh, what? What did you
say? Evildoers? I shall rescue you, fair mademoiselle! En garde, en garde, cursed
villain! Draw or die!” Fufon began to shred a nearby beanbag chair to pieces.
“You! Accursed squishy one! You’re a coward! Draw thy sword, and face thy death!”
It was amusing to see him so angry, considering how short he was.
Now, this was insanity if I ever saw it. Or maybe the Slightly Limp Yet Squishy
Beanbag of Doom really was going to crush me and Fufon was actually saving my
life. Either way, insanity.
Prowbert shook his head again. “I’ll pay you f-f-five thousand Neopoints to
let me escape with you,” he hissed. “As long as you can get me away from this
“Deal,” I said, and with that we were on our way.
I returned to my quiet home and pondered my findings. I had gone to three different
places – the Neosouth, Neoisland, and Neoeast – and found three different people,
each insane in their own way. One yelled at inanimate vegetables (bless their
hearts) and claimed that they would one day be his army, however rotten they
were by then. One limboed until her mind was one big bamboo stick and her life
was one huge limbo competition. The other had an inferiority complex and a false
French accent. What had I learned?
Don’t go crazy, people.
I pitied the poor insane people. They couldn’t help their diseased minds, even
if they did rant and obsess and write Neopian Times articles, and – oh.
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading my article of insanity! I’m a hypocrite,
I know. Forgiveness, kind Neopians. Neomail me with any comments or hate mail
(hate mail preferred, but the occasional compliment is okay, too ^_^). Until
tomorrow, friend... and always be kind to the asparagus. For dear Mooky’s sake.