by Greyson Mann
But tonight? I might have to call in sick. I’ve seen Dad do it before. You just call a coworker and cough into the phone, and next thing you know, you’ve got your feet propped up and you’re watching Spider Riding on TV or something. At least that’s how Dad does it. But I won’t waste a sick night watching sports. No, after I call in sick to Sam (COUGH, COUGH), I’ll finally go get my parrot.
Right after I get a good day’s sleep. And soak my sore feet. And rest my voice (because you can’t teach a parrot to rap if you can’t even talk). I wonder if Mom has a cure for THAT in her Restore Your Health bag of tricks.
I’d go ask her right now. I mean, if I weren’t SO t-i-r-e-d . . .
DAY 15: SATURDAY
Pete the Parrot is mine, all MINE!
It was NOT easy to sneak into Mob Mall without Willow and Sam seeing me. Those mobs must have gotten up at the crack of dusk to set up our stand early. And they were right by the front door, which meant I had to go in disguise. (I crouched down low and crept in with a bouncy family of slimes.)
Pete was right there waiting for me at Critters Unlimited. But I’d kind of forgotten a few things. Like, you can’t just buy a parrot without a cage. Or without birdseed. What’s the bird supposed to eat? Porkchops, burned to a crisp?
So I had to spend all my EXTRA emeralds too—which means Willow might not get her chalkboard sign any time soon.
I’d kind of forgotten something else, too—to ask my parents if I could bring Pete home. I mean, I figured I had that covered during the whole “emeralds don’t grow on trees, Gerald” and “you have to get a job, son” conversation. But Mom didn’t seem to remember any of that.
When I got home, she had her head stuck in the refrigerator. I asked, “What’s for dinner?”
And then Pete did too.
I guess Pete’s voice kind of freaked Mom out. She blew sky high, leaving the refrigerator full of gunpowder. And after she pulled herself together, she said we’d be having a whole lot of NOTHING for dinner, thanks to me and “that dirty bird.” OOPS.
Things didn’t go so well with Sticky either. As soon as I brought Pete into my room, Sticky squirted ink at him (or at least into his aquarium). RUDE. So I had to give Sticky a timeout in Chloe’s room.
While I was in Chloe’s room, I grabbed the phone that we’re supposed to share (even though Chloe pretty much hogs it). Then I got to work teaching Pete how to rap. I’ve been waiting for a parrot for SO long now (two WHOLE WEEKS!), so I didn’t want to waste another second.
When we’d finally made up a decent rap, I took a quick video. (It’s not my best work, but it’s a start, right?) Then I posted it straight to MooTube. Most of the videos there are of mooshrooms, ocelots, and other critters, so I know my rapping parrot is going to be a BIG hit.
Now I’m sitting back and waiting for the likes to pour in!
Still waiting.
Okay, it’s been like seven minutes now. STILL waiting.
Twelve minutes. SERIOUSLY? What’s not to love about a rapping parrot?
Just heard a DING. Yaasssss! We got a thumbs-up!
They’re going to start POURING in now, I can tell. But in the meantime, I’m just going to keep looking at that one thumb over and over again.
Uh-oh. I just looked closer. And I RECOGNIZE that thumb.
It’s from Willow W. Loves the Swamp.
CRUD.
My ONE like is from the ONE mob that I didn’t want to see this video. The mob who will bust my butt for not spending my emeralds on paint and a chalkboard sign. Which means that tomorrow, when I get to work, I’m going to have some serious explaining to do.
SIGH.
Why does this kind of thing always happen to ME, Gerald Creeper Jr.? You just can’t make this stuff up.
DAY 16: SUNDAY
So I spent the rest of last night trying to figure out what I was going to say to Willow about that parrot. That I’d BORROWED him from a friend? That he’d flown through my window while I was in bed, trying to sleep off my cold (SNIFFLE, SNIFFLE)? That I’d gotten a visit from Kid Z himself, who thought I was on my death bed and wanted to make my dying wish of a rapping parrot come true?
Before I could come up with a halfway decent story, the doorbell rang. Then Mom knocked on my door to introduce a “visitor.” Was it Kid Z?
Nope.
It was WILLOW.
I tried to pretend like everything was normal. “Willow, old buddy, old pal! Are you coming to see how I’m doing? (COUGH, SNIFFLE, SNEEZE) Or, hey, are you bringing me my share of the emeralds from last night? (HAH-CHOO!)”
That was when Pete the Parrot piped in with his own “HAH-CHOO!”
Willow took one look at Pete, and then she pulled a potion bottle out of her robes. I thought she was going to throw it at me—I really did. Instead, she set it on the table next to Pete. “Potion of healing,” she said. “For your parrot and his, um, COLD.”
HUH. Any other mob might think that was pretty nice of Willow. But I knew something was up.
“From now on,” Willow said, “I’m going to pay you 20 percent of my profits in POTIONS, not emeralds. I mean, until you start re-investing in the business.”
A-HA! There it was. Willow was going to hold back on giving me emeralds till I bought that paint and signs for our selling stand. So it was time for me to turn on the big brains again.
“I AM investing in the business,” I said. “Pete is really good at advertising. Listen to this: Pete, say, “Get your ice-cold potions!”
I had to repeat it like eight times, but Pete finally caught on.
And guess what? Willow SMILED. Sort of anyway. “That could work,” she said. “He might draw a few customers.”
“That’s what I’m SAYING!” I cried, as if I couldn’t believe Willow would ever doubt me.
As she was leaving, I thought about asking her again about my emeralds. I mean, I’d just come up with a pretty genius way to sell more of her potions, right? But when Willow is mad, it’s good to just let her cool down for a while. And besides, I’d get my emeralds tonight from Sam.
And then? I’d buy Willow her sign and some white paint, and every employee in Gerald Creeper Jr. Incorporated would be happy again.
Before I went to bed, I checked MooTube to see if I’d gotten any more likes.
Nope. Not a single one.
So I guess this going viral thing takes time. (SIGH.)
But while I waited, something AMAZING happened. This ad popped up on my phone. Now usually those ads are for dumb things like “Miracle pills to help you lose a little gunpowder!” But this ad was different. It was like it was sent JUST FOR ME.
Here’s what it looked like:
Now I don’t know HOW the Elytra Wing company knew I had a parrot. But I clicked right on that ad to find out how much those wings cost.
129 emeralds plus tax.
HUH.
Time to dust off my 30-Day Plan, because I can check a few things off that list—and add a shiny NEW one.
I’ll tell you what now. This getting-a-job thing is working out pretty well for me. Dad sure knows what he’s talking about. I should have quit school and gone to work a LONG time ago.
I can hardly wait to get back out there tonight and SELL SOME STUFF. Time to refill my piggy banks—you know, so I can empty them out again. Elytra Wings, here I come!
DAY 17: MONDAY
SHEESH. You do a friend a favor, and it ends up biting you in the butt.
I mean, I advertised Willow’s potions ALL NIGHT LONG. Well, Pete did anyway. “Get your ice-cold potions here!” he squawked at every mob who came out of the mall.
Creepers crept, Endermen teleported, and zombies staggered over JUST to see the talking bird. And Willow RAKED in those emeralds. One potion of swiftness? Coming right up. Three potions of strength? You’ve got it—would you like a bag for that? Yup, Pete was a selling machine.
Sam was kind of bummed because Pete wasn’t advertising his slime. But what can I say? You can only teach a parrot so
much in a day. And besides, I figured I was going to get my emeralds either way.
Except . . . I DIDN’T.
Because this morning, as we were packing up, Willow handed me a potion bottle. “Your cut,” she said. She didn’t even let me CHOOSE which one I wanted.
What was I supposed to do with a potion of fire resistance?
“Um, what about my emeralds?” I said.
She reminded me that she wouldn’t be giving me any emeralds until she got her chalkboard sign. “A deal’s a deal,” she said.
So THAT’s how it was gonna be, huh?
I thought Sam would back me up, but I should have known better. Remember what I said about that three-wheeled minecart? Yup, he rolled right out of the stand after Willow and didn’t even give me HIS emeralds.
When I asked him about them, he was all like, “I think I should keep them and put them toward my new tablet. Because, I mean, you SAID you’d chip in on it . . .”
WOW. You hire a few friends to help them out, and they turn on you like zombie pigmen.
So I told Sam and Willow that Pete and I were going home. And that tomorrow, Pete would be helping ME sell my RAP songs, thank you very much.
I thought Sam called something back to me, but it was just Pete squawking.
I mean, I’m glad I still have ONE friend left, but he doesn’t always say the most supportive things.
When I got home this morning, I decided to teach Pete a new sales pitch.
So far, it’s not going so well. It could be a LONG sleepless day. (SIGH)
DAY 18: TUESDAY
You do not even WANT to know how things went last night.
But I’m going to tell you anyway, because if a creep can’t tell his journal about the worst night EVER, who can he tell?
NOT his pet squid, who has been giving him the cold, wet shoulder since he brought home a parrot.
And NOT his parrot, who is nothing but a traitor. “You hear that Pete?” I said. “You’re a TRAITOR.”
And you know what he said back to me?
Sometimes I wonder if Willow is sneaking in here during the day while I sleep, and paying off my parrot in bird treats to make him keep saying that.
Anyway, I wouldn’t put anything past Willow anymore. Do you know what she did? She started selling potions from her OWN stand.
You can’t even call it a stand, really. It’s just a table. That just happens to have a huge chalkboard sign hanging from it. That says Get Your Potion of the Night! in big annoying letters.
I can’t believe she went and got her own stand! When I told her that was probably illegal, she said she hadn’t signed a CONTRACT with me. That she was a free agent, whatever that means.
So while I was trying to sell rap songs from my stand, Willow was selling a TON of potions from hers. And Sam was kind of bouncing back and forth between us, like he didn’t know what else to do.
As for Pete the Parrot? Well, he was sitting on MY shoulder, selling WILLOW’s potions. Tonight, I’m leaving him home. Maybe I’ll bring Sticky the Squid instead. At least my squid knows how to keep his mouth SHUT.
Guess what Willow’s Potion of the Night was? Potion of SLOWING. And that’s exactly what she was doing to me—slowing down my earnings. I’d NEVER get the Elytra Wings at this rate.
When Ziggy Zombie made an appearance, I practically tackled him.
Ziggy looked confused. “Aren’t your rap songs ALWAYS five emeralds?” he asked.
Every once in a while, the zombie makes a good point. So I told him I’d give him TWO raps for the price of one: one for him, and one for Zoe, who was riding her chicken in circles around Ziggy’s legs.
But Ziggy said he couldn’t buy a rap song because he’d ALREADY spent his allowance on the Potion of the Night. Then, right in front of me, he opened up that potion of slowness and splashed some of it on Zoe.
Well, that baby zombie slowed down right away—as if she’d just ridden her chicken into a river of hot lava. “Now I can keep up with her!” said Ziggy with a sigh of relief. “Best emeralds I ever spent.”
So it looked like Willow was getting PLENTY of sales without me. Maybe she didn’t need my big brains after all.
And Sam? He kept inching closer and closer to Willow’s stand. So finally I told him just to GO already. Then I packed up and left too. What was the point?
When I got home, I was ready to blow (and I’m not really the exploding kind of creeper). Sam and Willow just made me SO mad. With friends like that, who needs enemies? I might as well have hired a couple of ghasts from the Nether.
I couldn’t even eat my breakfast this morning. I just pushed my crispy potatoes around and around on my plate till Mom asked what was wrong. So I told her—EVERYTHING. And you know what Dad said?
He said that it was GOOD that Willow and Sam had their own stand.
SHEESH. Where does he even come UP with this stuff?
Well, Mom had my back. Turns out, Cora Creeper’s mom started working as a sales rep for Restore Your Health Incorporated, TOO, only she didn’t sign up under Mom. She signed up under some witch from the swamp. And Mom does NOT appreciate that kind of competition.
So Mom and I gave Dad the stink-eye all during breakfast. And afterward, I went right to my room and slammed the door.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Dad had said. (I really hate it when that happens.) And I started to think the old man might be right about something.
I DID have to work harder. Well, maybe not HARDER, but SMARTER. Because I didn’t have coworkers anymore. And my rap songs weren’t exactly flying off the shelves. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t sell SOMETHING ELSE.
I need to come up with something that costs almost NOTHING to make, but that I can sell for a lot of emeralds. See, THAT’S smart business.
Anyway, I’m going to sleep on it, because sometimes my biggest, BEST ideas come to me in the middle of the day.
Wish me luck.
DAY 19: WEDNESDAY
Sometimes a bad idea can turn into a GOOD idea if it comes along at the right time.
At least that’s what I thought about my Super Deluxe Hot Chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles. I mean, when Sam had the idea to sell hot chocolate, it was bad. Because, you know, Sam can’t eat whipped cream without getting gassy, and caffeine makes him weird.
But that doesn’t mean that I, Gerald Creeper Jr., can’t sell hot cocoa, right?
So last night, I left Pete at home (next to Sticky—I think it’s time those two make friends). And I brought a bunch of stuff from Mom’s cabinets to make the BEST hot chocolate ever.
But you know what I saw as soon as I got to the selling stand? I saw two MORE selling stands. Turns out, Willow isn’t the only mob who got the idea to sell her own stuff.
Cora Creeper was standing by a barrel selling GUNPOWDER. And was that Chloe beside her?
SERIOUSLY? My Evil Twin was trying to steal my business?
When I made a stink about it, Chloe pointed out that we were selling DIFFERENT things. Which I guess is true. So while she was advertising her deal on gunpowder, I hollered even louder to get people to buy hot chocolate.
Willow didn’t HAVE to say anything to customers. Her chalkboard said it for her. And Sam? Well, he’d brought some “advertising” of his own—a mini trampoline. And that trampoline really drew a crowd, let me tell you.
Did I mention that after mobs wear themselves out on a trampoline, they do NOT reach for a hot beverage? The only mob who came over to buy hot chocolate was Sam himself. And that lactose-intolerant slime ordered EXTRA whipped cream. GREAT.
So maybe I won’t bring hot chocolate again tomorrow night. I mean, there’s plenty of other good ideas where that one came from, right? I just have to keep thinking on it—and try to STOP thinking about how much I want to jump on Sam’s mini trampoline . . .
DAY 20: THURSDAY
Last night I took a mental-health break. That’s what Mom calls it when she doesn’t do any work and does FUN stuff instead.
I was going to stay home with Pete and Sticky, and try to make a rap video with both of them in it—something that would really light up MooTube.
But instead, I found myself creeping down to the Mob Mall to spy on Sam and Willow—you know, just to see how things were going. And GUESS what I saw?
Even MORE stands and MORE mobs selling stuff. Ziggy Zombie had his own stand, which looked like a pigpen full of baby mobs. I guess he figured that if grown-ups were hitting the mall, they might need a place to drop off their baby zombies and creepers.
Now I don’t know WHAT mob would hire a zombie to babysit, but it sure looked like business was booming. Ziggy was raking in the emeralds. So were Cora and Chloe with their gunpowder sales, and Sam had a whole LINE of mobs waiting to jump on his mini trampoline. He was even charging admission for it now: 5 emeralds for 5 minutes.
I’d call it genius, but I really don’t like to throw that word around. Sam might get an even BIGGER head than he already has.
And Willow?
Well, get this: she must have really struck it rich over the last couple of weeks, because she has a shiny new cauldron RIGHT there in her selling stand. Which means she can brew potions on the spot. LOTS of potions.
So here’s what I want to know: WHERE are mobs getting all these emeralds to spend on slime, potions, and gunpowder? I mean, what kind of an ALLOWANCE are they getting? And why didn’t MY parents get the memo about giving kids a raise?