The Diary of John Slater / Entry #4
Hey, diary. Have I told you about how my Murphy’s Law incident began? Why I wanted to write so badly? Why the struggle between publishing or just giving the lost manuscript back to its original owner became a struggle for life or death?
Well, before I start on that, please know that Samantha liked my story. Well, she liked an anonymous person’s story. But still, I had the manuscript with me. When I though that Samantha’s superpower (fast reader) could not get better, it did. She is like Ichigo Kurosaki, or Monkey D. Luffy, or Naruto, or many other animanga charcters I have seen. She needs only a short time to improve her powers and when I thought she was the greatest, she did even greater. But to be fair, it had been years since I last seen her.
Animanga charcters, however, are applicable to the Pygamalion Effect (don’t tell me you forgot already) but what about Samantha? Who would force her to be greater than her greatest? Her parents, teachers? Whoever it was, let me tell you that I am sure it involves child abuse because how the the hell someone great can be greater I don’t know. You know what she did, that shocked me so much? She read the manuscript, about 300 pages in just half an hour. You got that right. She even commented on it and told me what could be fixed. She sure is an amazing gal!
But moving on, did you know that my mom is sick of this town? Yes, the town that I’m living in. Apparently, she’s moving away to the countryside. Well, I for one is happy for her. In any situation, I would cheer for her and dad and tell them that this would be the greatest chance that they will have to strengthen their already strong relationship. Heh, talk about Pygamalion Effect there.
Anyways, like I said, I would cheer for her. Heck, I was about to. When she broke another news. The news that would shape my life forever. The news that made me think about a career that could bring money. A news that made me first write this diary.
My parents either wanted to sell this house or rent it. If you are a smart book, diary, I think you know the implications of that. That’s right. I am kicked out. Banished. Suspended. Homeless. Unless…
“You give us the money that would buy you the house, John,” my dad said in our discussions.
“What, the money for the house? I am barely feeding myself without you guys and you want me to pay god knows how many! By the way, how much is the house worth?”
He told me. I gulped at the price. “Its a tough economy, real estate is,” he said.
“But there has to be a way. Any other way that doesn’t involve money.”
“I’m afraid that’s it, son. You pay or you get out. I understand you but we want to live too. How do you think we’ll pay for the new house. I’m not that rich, you know.”
“I know, but…”
“I know you love this house, John. You haven’t been happier in any other house than this. You have friends here and you have lots of stuff here but I don’t think there’s any other way than this. If not homeless, you’ll have to go live with your grandfather.”
“Gramps?” I protested. “I don’t want that!”
“Then I suggest you look for a job that pays decent money with that fancy certificate of yours. You have six months. In the meantime, I will pay for all your food and other essentials in this house.”
He left me and I just nodded slightly, looking straight ahead. I just stood there, never feeling as alone as this in my whole life. Even my parents didn’t want to help me. I sure hope Pygamalion Effect hits me hard. I have been talking about Pygamalion Effect so many times in this entry that if I were to name this entry, I would name it Pygamalion Effect. Heh, imagine that, my diary has chapter titles. Just like in a novel.
I sighed, wishing it would be that easy. You see, I tried to do many things after that discussion with my dad. I tried to go to the bank but got turned down because I had no priors plus there was this case about me not having a permanent job. I tried to work little jobs but they aren’t paying me enough so that in six month, I will be be able to buy my own house. I even considered loan sharks because I was getting desperate. But before that, I did a pro and con list and the con won hands down. There was too much cons in a loan shark. Extortion, torture and not to mention murder.
The one and only solution: a novel. One novel and it could solve everything. And that novel was already in possession. All I had to do was groom it and make it beautiful. It couldn’t have been easier.
But why does my guilty conscience says differently?