by Kid, Cube
A huge amount of food items had been piled onto that massive chunk of wood.
"Pizza," he said. "What about pizza? Is it possible? Maybe if we just arrange these bread loaves like so . . ."
Mike rolled his eyes. "Dude. No tomatoes. No tomato sauce."
"Burritos?"
"No flour. No tortillas."
As they talked—naming an exhaustive list of food I'd never heard of before—I said nothing, only listened, totally confused.
"How about an omelet?" Steve asked. "We've got eggs! We've got mushrooms!"
Mike closed his eyes this time. "Again, I've already tried that, man. Every possible configuration. Eggs with more eggs. Eggs with milk. Eggs with mushrooms. Even eggs with a potato."
Steve gasped. "Omelets with diced potato chunks?! Who does that?! Wait, what am I saying?! I'd settle for that!"
"You're really freaking out, dude. Chill out."
"How about cheese?"
"Nope."
"Butter?"
"Went through five buckets of milk trying to figure that one out."
The desperation in Steve's voice was heavy when he said: "Apple . . . pie?"
Mike shrugged. "It should be possible, considering the fact that this world has apples, pumpkins and pumpkin pie. However . . ."
"No apple pie?! And we can't even have toast! Not even dry toast without any butter! We have loaves of bread, right? But the furnaces won't toast the bread and swords won't cut them! No matter how many times I try, the bread just crumbles!"
More silence.
Mike and I exchanged worried glances.
Steve scratched his chin. "And yet, they have ice cream, these villagers. Many flavors, too. But not the ones I like! What kind of world is this?!"
Mike rose up from his 'chair' and looked out the window.
"A Minecraft world."
"You know, I've been thinking about quitting," Steve said. "Quit teaching and build a redstone robot."
"And what would the purpose of this . . . redstone robot be, Steve?"
"A food crafting robot. Night and day, it'd set random types of food on the crafting table, until it finally found a new recipe."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say," Mike said, turning back to the window. "Not even Marky could build something like that! And the guy's a crafting master!"
Steve's eyes lit up. "Marky! Yes! If only Marky was here! He'd know how to craft pizza!"
"But he's not here, Steve. Accept it. Until we figure out a way to get back to Earth, it's potatoes and bread."
"I'll teach a golem to craft food for me!"
"No, you won't."
"Yes I will! It will craft in my sleep!"
Mike groanaed.
But Steve just laughed.
"Supreme pizza, here I come . . . !!"
Yeah.
Needless to say, I didn't hang around there much longer.
I understood what was going on, though. Steve missed Earth food, stuff like pizza and hamburgers, things I've never eaten before. I guess they must taste amazing.
Still, I don't get it—what's wrong with our ice cream?
Maybe he tried that nasty Creeper Crunch?
I went back to the park with Stump today. That's where the ice cream shop is.
While Stump and I got ice cream, it felt like someone was watching me again.
I didn't see anyone else, though.
Monday
Dear diay.
I like you diary, I really do.
But I can only assume you're going to suffer the same fate as my record book. Torn to pieces, each piece crumbling into nothingess.
You see, Pebble and his friends shook me down today.
Took everything I had, from my sword to my lunch emeralds.
Well, almost everything.
Thankfully, Urf arrived just before they grabbed my diary.
But it's only a matter of time.
What can I do? There are three of them, and they're a lot bigger than I am.
Stump tried to help out. I warned him not to. He's probably next on their list. Even though Stump is the seventh highest-level student, he's still a threat.
Worse yet, that Porcupine guy apparently joined Pebble's crew.
Porcupine saw Pebble push me around and figured he'd be better off with the punks.
So, all the top students . . . they're taking sides.
You're either on Runt's crew, or Pebble's . . . and it's probably easy to see which crew is the strongest.
Later on, I saw Sara hanging out with Donkey.
She gave me a guilty look. Talked to me later, after school.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just . . . if I keep talking to you, they'll harass me too, you know? I just wanna graduate with good scores."
I looked away.
"Yeah. It's fine."
"We're still friends, right?"
"Sure."
I totally understand, though.
I'm not bitter.
Team Runt is a sinking ship.
Tuesday
Didn't bring the diary to school today.
Didn't bring anything.
Except a carrot.
My lunch.
A single carrot. Not two carrots, not a carrot and an apple. A single carrot. THAT'S POOR, OKAY?!
So go ahead. Beat me up.
Take everything in my inventory.
Well, today, Team Pebble tried just that.
"GIMME THAT CARROT!!"
But when they grabbed me, I immediately whipped out my carrot and ate it as fast as I could.
They struggled to take my only food item away from me.
I chomped down.
Little pieces of carrot went flying everywhere.
OM-NOM-NOM-NOM-NOM.
"Get that carrot!"
"Grab it!"
But I managed to eat it before they took it from me.
"You little noob!" shouted Pebble.
Even as they roughed me up, I smiled.
It was a small little victory today.
They couldn't do anything to me.
The only item they could have taken, I ate in front of them.
Good game.
Noobs.
Wednesday
OOF!!
OOF!!
Those sounds came from me.
Team Pebble walked up to me and said they weren't going to steal anything today.
They were going to give me something, they said.
They gave me a pumpkin.
They threw it over my head and began punching me.
"Don't just stand there!! You're a pumpkin zombie, little noob!! It's Combat training!!"
OOF!!
OOF!!
OOF!!
I don't want to write much today.
I . . . will . . . get . . . my . . . revenge.
But I can't feel sorry for myself.
The things they did to Max were even worse.
Really wish he'd hurry up with that big idea of his.
Thursday
"You like eating things, do you?!"
"Let's see if you can eat this whole cake!!"
That about describes my day.
By the way, that wasn't their cake.
It was Stump's. Something he'd made in Crafting Basics.
Max.
Please.
Hurry up.
Friday
Pebble didn't try anything today.
It's because a new rumor has been spreading through the school—in fact, spreading through the entire village.
Supposedly, someone spotted an enderman in the village.
A friendly enderman who only wanted to trade.
He was looking for a potion. And not just any potion, but a 'Potion of Water Resistance'.
In other words, a potion that prevented not drowning damage, but . . . damage from water. I've never heard of such a potion, and neither has anyone I've talked to.
Yet . . . that doesn't mean such a potion doesn't exis
t.
Now, here's the thing.
The enderman is willing to pay five hundred emeralds for a stack of such potions.
Five hundred emeralds.
This enderman is rich, apparently.
Of course, everyone in the village started freaking out. Especially the kids at school.
"We've gotta find out how to craft that potion!!"
"We've gotta make some before that enderman returns to the village!!"
"With that many emeralds, I can buy an enchanted diamond sword!!"
Like that.
Forget the trees—the enderman was all anyone was talking about.
As the rumor goes, the enderman is a world traveler, and has a dream of becoming a professional swimmer.
The problem with that, obviously, is the fact that water is like acid to endermen. They can't even be out in the rain, much less swim for any length of time.
But this Potion of Water Resistance would fix that, I guess.
"Finally! My dream will come true!!" GLUG-GLUG-GLUG-GLUG-GLUG.
Saturday
The rumors were flying even more today, in the streets.
Some kept talking about what they were going to do with their massive pile of emeralds once they discovered how to brew that potion.
That girl, Breeze, came up and asked me about it.
She keeps talking to me every chance she gets.
What is her problem?!
Later, I ran into Max.
He apologized for being late.
While we stood there in the streets, more kids nearby talked about the enderman.
At the same time, Max gave me an evil grin.
Suddenly, I understood—he was the one responsible for those rumors.
That meant, the rumors weren't true. The enderman didn't actually exist. The world traveling enderman was just another one of Max's creations, like the poo screamer.
Yes, Max was at it again with his crazy tales—and this time, I didn't mind them at all.
It's like this.
Everyone's gonna be crafting potions for at least the next few days, experimenting, trying to figure out how to make that special potion.
And what do you need when crafting a bunch of potions?
Empty glass bottles.
"Supply and demand, buddy boy. Supply and demand."
Max went around the village and dug up all the sand in every sandy area. All of it.
I dug up a bunch myself in the park.
We figure, we probably have at least 75% of the village's available sand. At least, the easy-to-find stuff.
When people run out of bottles, they'll have no option but to come crawling to us.
We'll be able to charge anything we want for them.
I have to admit, this plan of Max's is pretty brilliant.
Book 7
Who is this mysterious girl following Runt around?
Will Runt and Max be able to afford new record books?
What's the secret behind the giant trees that has the mayor so worried?
In Book 7, Runt learns just how smart the mobs are . . . and how much danger the village will soon be in . . . in the upcoming war against all of Minecraftia.
For anyone who left reviews, and supported me against the copycat—THANK YOU! He changed his author name because of you guys!
I was so moved when I saw so many of you commenting about that guy!
In return for your support, I'm making every book longer. This one is about 15% longer than normal, I think. I've been so busy with moving but I'm finally getting back into the swing of things and books will come out faster.
The paperback version of this series will soon be out, if there's anyone out there who prefers paperback.
The paper version of Book 1 is already out, and the rest will be soon.
If you like this series, I recommend:
Diary of a Minecraft Kitten (also by me)
Diary of a Minecraft Zombie (by Herobrine Books)
Diary of a Wimpy Steve (by the Minecrafty Family)
Gameknight999 series (by Mark Cheverton)
Flynn's Log series (by Stone Marshall)
Anything by RK Davenport