Jack's Black Book

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Authors: Jack Gantos
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night for dinner, do everything I say, and I’ll keep rats from using your eye sockets as doorways to your brain.”
    â€œOkay,” I croaked. “You’re the boss.” I went limp and she let me drop to the ground.

Two
    My first day out I was sitting under a palm tree like some wasted survivor on a desert island with the typewriter on my lap. Above me I had thumb tacked a big sign: POSTCARDS WRITTEN AND MAILED. ONE DOLLAR
    Business was slow. In fact, I hadn’t scored a customer all day. I hadn’t even seen a mirage of a customer, and I was in a bad mood. Every time I looked up to make sure my sign hadn’t blown away, the sun scorched my face and I thought of rats turning my brain into Swiss cheese. I had to make some money before Dad returned.
    Pete was sitting next to me. He was so sluggish he looked like a snake propped up on a stick. “Give me a dollar,” he moaned, and stuck out his hand. “I want to buy a Slim Jim.”
    He was like BeauBeau, only with a slightly larger brain. “No way,” I snapped back. “Buy it yourself.”
    â€œYou own me so you have to take care of me,” he whined, as if it were a law.
    â€œI own you so you have to work for me,” I replied. “Now it is time for you to get your rear in gear. Because if I end up killing rats for a living, you’ll be the first rat I kill.”
    â€œI just want to buy a Slim Jim, then take a swim, then fall asleep under a picnic table.” He pouted.
    â€œWrong,” I replied. “You will do none of those things. You will put your mind to a moneymaking task.”
    He groaned. His head drooped over to one side.
    â€œLet me explain the number-one lesson of life,” I said. “See those people all over the beach?”
    â€œYeah,” he replied. “So what?”
    â€œWell, millions of years ago the beach was covered with fish with feet.”
    â€œI don’t get it,” he said.
    â€œLet me spell it out,” I labored, and tapped him on the head. “Once upon a time we were all just single-celled dots in a pool of slimy water. Then we were fish. Then we were fish with feet. Then we were people. And now our next step is to make money. And if you can make lots of money while doing what you love to do, then it automatically means you are a genius. We didn’t go from single-celled slime to people just so we could eat Slim Jims and sleep under a table.”
    He looked at his feet, then squinted up at me. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” he said. “No wonder everyone thinks you’re an idiot.”
    I almost slugged him, but it wasn’t in my best interest. “Let me spell it out even more,” I said. “If fish didn’t decide they wanted to walk, we wouldn’t be here today.”
    â€œYou’ve been out in the sun too long,” he cracked.
    I was losing patience. “We’re growing up,” I said.
    â€œNo kidding,” he sputtered. “Nobody grows down.”
    â€œI don’t mean that.” I sighed. “I mean it’s time to make something of ourselves. Take the next step. Make some bucks.”
    Pete’s eyes glazed over. If I were a book, he was ready to close me.
    â€œThe point is all about you and me. Look at it this way. Some fish were dumb. They walked in the wrong direction and died. But the smart ones kept walking from one puddle to the next. The same for us. You and I are—”
    â€œGoing from puddle to puddle.”
    â€œThere you go again,” I moaned. “Missing the—”
    â€œI have an idea,” he said abruptly.
    â€œThat’s it!” I said, encouraging him. “Evolve. Be something. Turn your idea into money.”
    â€œDad says, It takes money to make money,’” he said, and held his hand out again. “I need to go home and get Dad’s old Polaroid. Then I’ll need ten dollars to get

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