by Greyson Mann
Well, right from the start, I had a BAD feeling about inviting Willow. See, hanging out with Sam and Willow is like being the third wheel on a rusty old minecart. Willow wants to go one way. I want to go the other way. And Sam almost ALWAYS follows his girlfriend, leaving his good buddy Gerald to crash and burn. Been there and done that, thank you very much.
Plus, Willow asks a LOT of questions. When we found her down at the swamp, she was all like, “Wait a sec, Gerald, why do we pay YOU 20 percent of what we earn?”
I almost said, “Because I’m the BRAINS of the operation. Genius ideas don’t come cheap, you know.”
But Willow doesn’t appreciate me talking about my genius. So instead, I said the 20 percent would go toward “marketing and advertising.” I don’t even know where I got those words—they just came to me. Brilliant, right?
WRONG.
“Do you know anything about marketing and advertising?” Willow asked, cocking her head.
“Sure!” I boasted. “I was a reporter for the Mob Middle School Observer. I’ve got some SERIOUS writing skills.”
“Yeah, but writing isn’t really marketing or advertising,” she pointed out.
That was when I came up with another genius idea. (Like I told you, I’m the ideas guy.) “Well,” I said, “did I mention that your 20 percent will ALSO go toward our selling stand? My dad is going to help me build it this week—the super deluxe model. And you’ll have your OWN special spot at the counter.”
Well, that did the trick. Every mob knows that my dad is a master crafter. He disappears into his garage for an hour, and presto—he comes out with a dispenser or an anvil or pretty much ANYTHING you could want.
I knew I’d hooked Willow with the whole “super-deluxe selling stand” thing, because her nose started twitching. “So what will we sell?” she asked.
“Hot chocolate!” said Sam. The slime LOVES hot chocolate with whipped cream, the kind we get down at the Creeper Café.
But I had to shoot that idea down. (That’s what they pay me the big bucks for.) “Sam,” I said, “doesn’t whipped cream give you gas?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And doesn’t caffeine make you super jiggly?”
“I guess.”
“And won’t it be like 90 degrees outside this summer?”
“Probably.”
“So do you think selling hot chocolate at a stand all summer is a great idea?”
Sam shook his head—and melted into a green pool of disappointment. I felt bad for the guy, but someone’s gotta look out for him and steer him in the right direction.
That was when my Evil Twin, Chloe, crept into the swamp with her friend Cora Creeper. Turns out, they were looking for Sam.
“You got any more of that totally awesome homemade slime?” Chloe asked Sam in her I’m-being-sweet-because-I-want-something voice.
For some reason, Chloe and Cora are really into slime lately. Chloe has been trying to make it at home, but Mom put the kibosh on that. Maybe it was because the sticky, gloppy stuff got EVERYWHERE. It stuck on the floor and all over Cammy and all over her baby dolls and even in Sock the Sheep’s wool. (Yes, we have a pet sheep named Sock. Don’t even get me started on that one . . .)
So now Chloe tries to get her slime from Sam, who happens to have mounds of slime balls at home.
Before Sam could answer, Willow spoke up. “Sam is SELLING his slime now,” she said. “Five emeralds a batch.”
That was pretty genius, I gotta say. And Chloe looked really surprised. I was afraid she was going to blow sky-high when Willow asked her for money, because my Evil Twin is FAMOUS for her blow-ups.
But she didn’t. Instead she whispered something to Cora, and then she said, “Sure, okay. I’ll be back after I get my allowance.”
“Wait, you’re going to pay FIVE emeralds for a hunk of SLIME?” I blurted out. I mean, I didn’t want to get in the way of a sale for Sam, but I couldn’t believe Chloe fell for Willow’s sales pitch—just like that.
“Sam makes the best slime,” Cora explained with a shrug. “It’s SUPER stretchy and doesn’t stick to anything.”
HUH. Go figure. So Sam had his first sales idea, thanks to Willow—and my Evil Twin. And right after that, Willow said she was going to brew up some potions to sell at our stand.
I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. But I didn’t want Sam and Willow to know that the big-ideas guy didn’t have any ideas. So I said the first thing that came to mind: “Rap songs, of course.” I said I’d make up a rap song for any customer who came to the stand, kind of like how artists draw pictures of mobs at fairs and stuff.
Willow looked like she was going to ask a whole lot of questions about that, but I cut her right off. I told her I had to get home to make that stand with Dad. In fact, I promised my friends we’d have our stand up and running by SATURDAY. See, I happen to know that lots of mobs get their allowance on Fridays. So by Saturday, they’ll be DYING to spend those emeralds!
Now I’m waiting for Dad to get home from work, and I’m crossing my toes, hoping he’ll help me build the stand. If he DOESN’T, I’ll be forced to build one myself. And that might NOT be one of my genius ideas, because I’m a way better rapper than I am a crafter. Just sayin’.
Wish me luck.
DAY 7: FRIDAY
Dad said YES to helping me build the stand. Woohoo!!! I almost kissed the old guy.
That’s why I haven’t written in my journal for a couple of nights—I’ve been busy. Dad wanted to get going on the stand right away, probably because he was tired of Mom practicing her sales pitch on him with all that dried kelp and seagrass stuff.
He even seemed kind of proud of me for coming up with the sales-stand idea. “Gerald,” he said, “you’re showing some real INITIATIVE.”
That’s one of his favorite words. I think it means I did something without him harassing me about it, like taking the trash to the lava pit without being asked.
So we had that stand built by this morning, and it’s a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you. It’s wide enough for me and my friends to fit in—even Sam, who’s kind of a wide dude. And the counter comes all the way up to my chest, which means there’s lots of room to store stuff down below. And there’s space at the top of the stand where we can hang some of our “marketing and advertising” (a.k.a. a SIGN). Genius!
Tomorrow night, Sam, Willow, and I are going to wheel this thing to the big field behind Mob Middle School. That way, all the poor saps who are just getting out of summer school Saturday morning will pass our stand on the way home.
Forget going to the Mob Mall this weekend, kids. There’s a NEW shop in town: Gerald Creeper Jr. Incorporated. Get your ice-cold potions here!
DAY 8: SATURDAY
Well, I learned a lot today. Sales are a ROCKY road.
At least the road we took to get our wooden stand to the schoolyard was rocky. And hilly. And LONG.
We had the stand strapped to an old minecart, and Willow, Sam, and I push-pulled it to school. Actually, Willow was lugging a bunch of potions too, so she wasn’t much help. And Sam had flung his bag of slime balls on top of the stand, which added a LOT of extra weight. So by the time we got to school, I was sweating buckets. I might as well have been working down in the mines with Dad.
But then Willow set up all her potions on our counter, and I’m not gonna lie—those colored glass bottles were kind of pretty in the moonlight. Sam stuck his sign to the top of the stand, advertising his homemade slime. And I got my pencil ready to do some rapping. I couldn’t wait to actually earn EMERALDS for my mad rap skills!
When the bell rang, we all got ready for the crowds that we knew would come our way.
But the only “crowd” turned out to be Chloe and Cora. Chloe wanted to see what kind of slime Sam was selling. SHEESH. How many emeralds did my Evil Twin have in her piggy bank? Was Dad giving her a bigger allowance than me?
I tried to keep it together. I mean, Chloe WAS a customer after all. And when Sam said he’
d brought some especially stretchy slime, Chloe was all over that. She bought two batches—probably just in case Cammy got a hold of one of them. And Cora bought one too.
So chalk three sales up for Sam and his slime. I tried to get Chloe and Cora to buy rap songs too, but Chloe was all like, “I get plenty of those at home, thanks.”
Then Ziggy came by with his baby sister, Zoe, along with some dark-skinned zombie with straw-colored hair. “This is my cousin Husky,” said Ziggy. “He’s visiting from the desert.”
Well, normally I’d be all over a mob from the desert, because Husky probably knows my idol Kid Z, who lives in Sandstone. But “Husky” rhymes with all sorts of things, so instead of asking him about Kid Z, I made up a rap right there on the spot.
“Five emeralds, and I’ll write you another one,” I said to Husky. But he just kind of grunted something. (Zombies aren’t really known for their conversational skills.)
Zoe Zombie usually LOVES my raps. But this morning, she was all about buying a slime ball. After Ziggy paid for that, he said he was fresh out of emeralds. He even turned his pockets inside out to show me. Yup, nothing but a bunch of crusty crumbs in there. GROSS.
Then Whisper Witch showed up from out of nowhere to see what kinds of potions Willow was selling. I tried my sales pitch again.
I threw in some dance moves for free, but Whisper just stared at me.
Then she bought a potion of invisibility from Willow and was gone in a flash.
“Gerald, don’t scare off the customers,” Willow said, as if MY rap was what made Whisper run away. But everyone knows the girl is super shy. So I really didn’t appreciate Willow’s suggestion.
What DID I appreciate? Taking 20 percent of her emeralds at the end of the morning. Yeah, that felt pretty good. Because even though my rap songs weren’t bestsellers, my idea for the stand WORKED.
I’m back home counting my emeralds as we speak.
Mom says it’s a good idea to keep a log of sales. She showed me her “log,” which is really just a book with a lot of empty pages. (Mom’s sales this month haven’t been stellar.)
I’m a journal kind of guy, so I figure it can’t hurt to take down a few notes, right? Here goes:
Now I’m not gonna lie—it kind of hurts that Sam’s slime went all gangbusters and my rap songs didn’t. But getting 18 emeralds kind of softened that blow.
I put the emeralds in my piggy bank right away. Now I’m trying to sleep, but my eyes are WIDE open.
Sticky is having trouble sleeping, too. He’s just floating in his aquarium, staring at me. Maybe he can tell our lives are about to change. That I’m going to strike it rich with Gerald Creeper Jr. Incorporated. That any day now, I’m going to bring home a parrot that RAPs. And then our videos will go viral, reaching every mob and squid in the whole entire Overworld.
“Brace yourself, buddy,” I said to Sticky. “It’s going to be a wild ride.”
DAY 10: MONDAY
Last night, Mom wanted to have a family night. She said I couldn’t go set up my stand, that no one was going to work. But when I caught her on the phone with Cora Creeper’s mom, trying to recruit her to be a salesperson for Restore Your Health Incorporated, I busted her.
“You’re WORKING, Mom!” I said.
And she was all like, “Oh, fine. Go work your stand for a little while, Gerald. But be home for an early breakfast—roasted porkchops and crispy potatoes.”
Mom sure knows how to get to me. She burns her chops to a crisp, just the way I like them. So I told Sam and Willow we had to make short work of our sales.
We set up our stand down at the swamp, where lots of mobs go to hang out. Within half an hour, Willow’s potion of night vision had sold right out. I think even Sam was jealous of her sales, until he busted out his glow-in-the-dark slime. Oh, SNAP.
Willow pushed his slime to the side to make room for her potion of water breathing, and he pushed back. I thought the lovebirds were going to duke it out right there in the middle of the swamp! I sat back to watch, wishing I had a bucket of popcorn.
But then, for some reason, they both turned on ME.
“Aren’t you trying to sell rap songs tonight?” Willow asked. I guess she wondered why I was sitting down instead of leaping over the counter, trying to bring in customers.
I shrugged. See, I’d figured out that I didn’t HAVE to sell any rap songs. I was earning money just sitting there. Every time someone bought a bottle of potion or a hunk of slime, I could practically HEAR those emeralds plinking into my piggy bank.
Then Sam asked me how much I was going to chip in on his new tablet. I guess he’s counting his emeralds at home too, wondering how soon he can head on over to the Mob Mall.
Well, I told Sam I couldn’t chip in just yet—that I wanted to re-invest my emeralds “back into the business” first. What did that mean? I don’t even know. I swear, this stuff just comes to me.
But Willow busted me. “How are you re-investing in the business?” she asked.
I inspected the stand and said something like, “I’ve been thinking about giving this thing a coat of paint.” Well, Sam seemed satisfied with that. And when a bunch of zombies came over to buy some of Willow’s potions, she finally backed off. PHEW.
So I’d have to call that another successful night for Gerald Creeper Jr. Incorporated. Time to log my earnings:
I already have almost 40 emeralds. If sales keep going like this, I’ll be able to buy my parrot NEXT weekend. YAAASSSS!!!
I’m thinking I’d better visit Critters Unlimited tomorrow to make sure he’s still there. And maybe hide his cage behind a big bag of birdseed or something so no one else buys him first.
Success is so close, I can almost taste it. And you know what it tastes like? A giant roasted porkchop, burned to a crisp. YUM!!!
DAY 12: WEDNESDAY
Okay, my parrot is right where I left him—on the shelf at Critters Unlimited. PHEW!
I had to sneak away from our sales stand to go visit him last night. I told Willow I was going shopping for paint so I could spruce up our stand, and that she could just swing by my house this morning to drop off my share of the emeralds. (She might have given me the stink-eye when I said that. Or maybe she just had gunpowder in her eyes from brewing so many splash potions.)
Anyway, I high-tailed it to Critters Unlimited. I practically sprinted, because I was SO afraid someone else had bought my bird. But there he was, strutting back and forth in his cage, bobbing his blue head up and down with every step.
I hung out with Pete for a LONG time. (That’s what I decided to name him—Pete the Parrot.) When other mobs came by, I stepped in front of his cage so no one else would see him and fall in love with him. I just whistled and pretended to be checking out the birdseed and bird toys on the shelf next to Pete.
And guess what? Pete whistled right back at me. He re-PEAT-ed every note!
So then I started rapping, just to see if he’d do that too.
Well, Pete got PART of the rap anyway. (We still have some work to do.) But now I know he’s the bird for me. And I can’t WAIT to bring him home.
It’s time to earn some serious emeralds, FAST. I hope Sam and Willow are prepared to put in some overtime, because Gerald Creeper Jr. Incorporated is open for business—24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
DAY 14: FRIDAY
It’s official: Dad can NEVER tell me again that I don’t know the value of an emerald.
I have been working my creeper butt off for TWO STRAIGHT NIGHTS now. And I am one tired creeper. But I am also one RICH creeper!
See, I had another brilliant idea. I decided Sam, Willow, and I should set up our selling stand where mobs are already going to shop—the Mob Mall. We found a spot in the parking lot by the front door, and we caught mobs before they even set foot in the mall (you know, while they still had emeralds in their pockets).
I even took a turn selling at the counter so Sam could run back to his house and get more slime balls, and so that Willow could take potio
n-brewing breaks. I earned EVERY one of my emeralds, let me tell you. By the end of the first night, my feet were sore from standing and my tongue was tied in knots from talking to customers so much.
But I didn’t mind at all, because I earned 52 emeralds that night. Count them—52!!! And now, after another night, I have a pile of emeralds so big, they wouldn’t fit in TEN piggy banks.
So I know you’re wondering: Do I finally have enough emeralds to buy Pete the Parrot? Well, YES I do, thanks for asking. And if the mall weren’t closed right now, I’d walk straight there to get Pete—even though my feet feel like blocks of obsidian.
But if I’m going to buy Pete tomorrow, I’m gonna have to do it on the sly.
I can’t buy him in front of Willow and Sam, because I’m SUPPOSED to be using my hard-earned emeralds to “re-invest in the business.” I promised Willow I’d paint the stand, and come up with a new chalkboard sign that says Potion of the Day. She wants to advertise one special potion every day of the week. “But YOU should buy the chalkboard, Gerald, because it’s your stand and all,” she pointed out.
“I’ll get right on that,” I told Willow. (I mean, right after I buy my parrot, and teach him to rap, and make a video that goes viral.) Anyway, Willow doesn’t have to worry. I have enough emeralds to buy Pete PLUS a few “investments.”
