[Hyde POV]
"Bup Bup Bup." I held up a finger at him, which made him stop and became even more angry.
Eric saw it, and he scrunched his eyebrows, looking at me as if questioning my audacity.
"I was at your garage painting Kelso's van. Technically, it's still your house." I took out a cup and an instant 3 in 1 coffee mix.
It was a Kopiko premium 3 in 1 I bought in a grocery store. But, I was the only one drinking it. Since it tasted too smooth for Red, and no one else drank coffee here.
"You did what?!" Red was shocked. "Great! Now my garage is all messy."
He stared at me and said, "And don't you ever 'Bup Bup Bup' me again."
If eyes could kill, that's Red's eyes. I poured hot water into the instant coffee mix and stirred it with a spoon.
"You painted Kelso's van?" Eric was pleasantly surprised. He rushed outside like a kid wanting to open their christmas present to check it out.
"You're cleaning up the garage after you come home." Red pointed his finger at me and ordered firmly.
"I protected it with thin plastic. There's nothing to clean up." I told him as I sat at the breakfast table and began eating Mrs Forman breakfast food.
Bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Like yesterday, and the day before. And the day before that. I mean, I love it, but I do want something different.
Since she was working hard, I guess she couldn't find the time to think about new stuff.
'Maybe I can make breakfast tomorrow.' I thought to myself.
Red ignored me after I told him I used the plastic. "Fine. But if there's anything on my tools, I'll make sure you clean it up."
I poured syrup on the pancake and said to Red, "Hey. If you're free today, can you help me with something?"
"I'm busy." He said without looking at me.
Kitty swooped in, sat next to me and began to persuade her husband.
"Oh Red. At least hear what he's talking about. And you're not busy. You're laid off."
"Kitty…." He said begrudgingly. "What do you want?!" He turned to me and snapped.
I chuckled and said, "I need a carshop. Or maybe a place to work on cars. A garage maybe. With a heater and maybe 3-4 car bays… "
"You want to work on cars?" Red raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know how?"
"I know a bit. I'm not doing hard work. Just fixing up broken cars, maybe a paint job, then reselling it for profit." I said after swallowing the bacon.
Eric walked into the kitchen through the sliding door, holding his stomach as he laughed breathlessly.
"Oh that's awesome." He continued laughing as he sat back down. "Mom, you should go and see it."
"AHHHH!" A girlish voice screamed in horror from outside the house. Eric laughed and said, "Kelso's here."
…
After breakfast, at the driveway.
"Oh my god, Hyde! You really captured the essence of Jackie as a human being." Donna cackled as she saw the artwork on Kelso's van.
Kelso's face was truly sad, albeit pathetic. His chin was quivering.
I smiled in satisfaction and said, "He told me before he forgot he has a girlfriend. Now, he will never forget about her. Ever."
Fez laughed and said, "Nice burn. Good Burn."
"Hyde! You're dead meat!" Kelso heard me and rushed head first to beat me up. I caught him and began to wrestle with him.
"Are you sure you want to fight me? Or do you want to hide this from Jackie?" I asked as I breathed heavily. I was too tired to fight right now from the lack of sleep.
Kelso immediately let me go and said, "I need to hide it from Jackie. GIVE ME SOME TAPE!"
Eric laughed and gave him some. It was my tape. I used it last night to create a border for the artwork, masking off the part I didn't want to use the clear coat on.
Jackie suddenly came to the driveway. "Hey everyone." She wore a beret, a scarf, and a thick fur lined jacket.
"Jackie, what are you doing here? Didn't you usually go straight to school?" Eric asked in shock.
"I do, but Hyde called and asked me to come to see Micheal's gift for me." Jackie said with an innocent face.
Kelso froze midway while he tried to hide the artwork.
"What is this?" Jackie gasped and her eyes glittered in excitement as she saw her image on the van panel.
"Micheal! This is so romantic!" She squealed.
"Her face on a beat up sex van is romantic?" Donna muttered with disdain.
Micheal shuddered and laughed nervously. "Jackie. I didn't do this. Hyde did."
"Hyde?" Jackie turned towards me.
I nodded and said, "Yeah man. He told me he loved you so much. He wants to make up for what he's done. It's his way to say he's sorry. I don't want to do it, but he promised to give me 100 bucks if I paint your face on his van."
"Aww Micheal! You're so sweet." She hugged him. He pointed his finger at me angrily and mouthed, 'You're dead meat, Hyde.'
"What? You're thankful, Hyde? I can't read your lips very well." I played dumb.
Jackie let him go and turned to me. "Hyde, why does it say Micheal You're a Dirty Dirty Dog on my talk bubble?"
"Kelso asked me to put that on too. So he will. Never. Forget. About. You." I enunciated, which made Micheal almost cry while pretending to laugh.
"Good." Jackie agreed with me. "Micheal. I'll give him the money. It's worth it."
"No Jackie. He said he wants to do it himself without depending on you. That's how sorry he was." Eric joined in with setting up a trap for Kelso.
"OH YOU'RE ALL DEAD MEAT!" Kelso pointed at both of us frantically and pulled Jackie to get into the van.
"You're driving with me?" Eric asked casually, holding the key to his Vista Cruiser.
I smirked and said, "I'll drive my own car."
"Not so fast Steven!" Red came out of the sliding door and stopped me with a grin. "Give me your car keys."
"But Red–"
"No, no. You're going with Eric. Someone needs to make sure you're really going to school."
I sighed inwardly and gave him my keys. "You can have it tomorrow." Red said fiercely and went back to the kitchen.
Eric, Fez and Donna laughed at me. I got pissed and angrily went into the station wagon.
2 minutes in, I was already asleep.
"Hyde! Wake up you Dillhole! We're here!" Eric scolded as we arrived at school.
I wiped my face and said, "Oh."
"What Oh? I've been trying to wake you up for ten minutes." Eric said with dissatisfaction. "I'll be damned if my role is to become an alarm clock in your–"
I handed him twenty bucks.
"Alright. I'll be your alarm clock." He said casually and took the money.
I stepped out of the Vista Cruiser and stretched, the cold Wisconsin air slapping me awake harder than Eric ever could.
The student parking lot was already half full—beat-up Chevys, rusty Fords, a couple of old Volkswagens, and the usual embarrassing station wagons everyone pretended they didn't see each other drive.
I did see a Firebird in the parking space. And some rich people's cars. The principal drove a Corvette. He also was dating a cheerleader. People were pretty wild in this era.
Our high school wasn't pretty. It looked like Hawkins High from Stranger Things, only more depressing. Wide concrete steps, flickering orange lights above the double metal doors, and gray walls that looked like they'd been painted by someone who hated happiness.
The building sat squat and heavy on a flat piece of land, like a prison that couldn't afford bars. Rows of windows lined the halls—thin, drafty ones that rattled when the wind blew.
Everyone shuffled inside, boots squeaking on the waxed linoleum floors. Lockers slammed. Someone dropped a stack of textbooks and swore.
I walked to my locker, tossed my stuff and backpack in it, then headed to class.
The first period was the U.S. History with old man Mr Perkins, who looked like he had personally fought in every war America ever had since 1492.
The guy turned off the lights to show us a film strip, and that was basically his way of saying, go ahead, kids—sleep, I've given up on life.
So the entire back row, myself included, knocked out instantly. Even the football players. The film strip clicked loudly every time it changed frames, but nobody cared.
I got away with a full nap. Kelso and Fez also napped in the classroom. It was routine, almost every Monday we got a specialized nap time.
Second period– English
Next was English with Mr. Clark. We had a solid agreement. I didn't make his day harder, and he ignored the fact that I treated his classroom like a motel.
He droned on about some poem from the 1800s while I rested my head on my crossed arms. He didn't bother me. He didn't even look in my direction.
That was great. Another nap secured.
Then came the third period, Math with Mrs. Ling. The teacher who replaced Mr Given after he resigned.
The fun ended fast as she slammed my table to force me to wake up 10 minutes into her class.
"Mr Hyde." She said with gritted teeth. "Are you listening to me?"
"Obviously not." I said playfully.
The new teacher, Mrs. Ling. Mid-30s, sharp haircut, sharp eyes, definitely the energetic overachiever type. She had that look — the "I'm young, I'm new, and I refuse to let these small-town Wisconsin kids eat me alive" look.
She looked like the mom in the sitcom, 'Fresh Off The Boat'.
Before she could explode, the kids around me started whispering to her in those urgent little terrified voices:
"Mrs. Ling, that's Hyde—"
"He's the one who made Mr. Givens resign—"
"He snapped a teacher in half—"
"He didn't actually snap a teacher, Lisa."
"He made him quit! Same thing."
Mrs. Ling straightened up like she'd just been issued a challenge. Her eyes turned sharp.
A new female teacher in 1977? People already looked down on her. So she was acting tough.
She slid something onto my desk. A test paper.
"Mr. Hyde." she said sharply. "You missed this diagnostic exam last week while you were suspended."
I didn't move.
She lowered her voice. "Let's make a deal."
That got my attention. I lifted my head maybe one inch.
"You score over 80 on this test… and I will ignore anything you do for the rest of the school year. Sleep. Don't participate. Wear sunglasses. I won't bother you."
I looked at her for a moment.
"…For real?"
"Yes."
"Nice."
I grabbed the pencil and the test from her.
"But if you fail. You'll have to listen to me properly during class."
"Teach." I looked at her with a smirk. "You've really underestimated my desire to sleep during class."
She smirked too and said, "You got a 9 on your last test. Maybe you can surprise me, but that's unlikely."
Eric whispered to me from a few seats over, "Man. Give up. That test is so hard. I only got 65 on it. Fez got 15. Kelso got 4. You might not be able to answer one."
"Mr Forman, what did I tell you about making a disturbance in class?" She turned to Eric.
Eric immediately lowered his head like a domesticated dog. "Not to do it ma'am."
I shot him a look of disbelief. "One week and you're already fallen under her thumb? You wuss."
"Shut up. She's really scary." Eric whispered back to me.
It wasn't even hard. Algebra II. Quadratics, factoring, some graphing stuff. I could've done this in eighth grade.
Half the questions I answered myself. Although I checked if I did it right online.
For the long algebraic formula questions, I used ChatGPT to do it because I was too lazy to figure it out myself.
Sixteen minutes later, I was done.
I walked the paper up to her desk, dropped it off, and went back to my seat. Didn't say a word, then I went right back to sleep.
"Steven. Don't fall asleep yet. Let us check what your answer is as a class." She said suddenly.
"Your attempt to humiliate me Mrs Ling?" I chuckled.
"Everyone had to last week. Kelso was the worst one." Eric whispered to me.
I grimaced as I looked at him. "Why didn't you tell me about all this stuff?"
He snapped, "You're the one who worked all day and night–"
"Mr Forman. Do you want to come to the front and speak to everyone?" Mrs Ling asked sternly.
"No Ma'am." he lowered his head again.
I laughed at his misery, which made him flip me off secretly.
"Number 1. Alright, you did well on number 1." She furrowed her eyebrows and said with disappointment.
"Number 2… Is alright correct."
Her forehead crease became deeper as she marked everything. It has 30 questions on it. And she was silent until she finished marking it.
Everyone held their breath. Some were smirking and laughed, expecting me to get humiliated.
But I didn't.
"Steven Hyde. You answered everything right." The teacher was shocked, she looked at me with a shaky wide eye.
"HE'S CHEATING!" Kelso stood up and shouted accusingly. "He lived with Eric. They must've conspired together!" He added.
"Kelso!" Eric was astonished.
"Calm your tits Kelso." I frowned at him.
"He said a bad word too!" He pointed his index finger at me.
"Shut up and sit down Mr Kelso." The teacher snapped at him. He winced and sat down obediently. "He can't cheat since I gave him a different test paper."
I laid my head on the desk and yawned. "Good night."
The teacher and the rest of the class was in disbelief.
"Alright. I'll keep my word. I'm not a hypocrite." She said before ignoring me for the rest of the class.
…
While everyone was having lunch, I climbed over the school wall and ditched the afternoon classes.
"Heh, I don't have a car?" I muttered slyly and took out the old VW Beetle from my system storage. I made sure to go to an empty alley before doing that.
I drove to the butcher shop and met with Mr Bent to discuss his sales campaign.
He was a gruff looking man. Mustache that connects to his sideburn. Slicked back hair with hair net. Hairy big forearm. He looked like a strongman with his giant muscular hand.
The man was 6'7 tall. I felt like a little kid in front of him.
He slammed his cleaver to the meat, and cuts of a piece of meat perfectly.
"Are you the flyer guy?" He asked.
I nodded and said, "Yup. I'd shake your hand, but I don't think that's hygienic. I'm Steven Hyde."
"Bent." he replied gruffly. "Benjamin Bent."
"Should I wait for you to finish?" I asked.
"No. We can talk right now." He said while cutting some meat. "I want the flyer. I have a deal with my wife that if I can't increase the profit for this store, I'll have to sell it and move to Florida."
I nodded and said, "I saw the sign said open since 1912."
"Yup. From my great grandfather's time. Then my grandfather, then my dad. Now me."
"It's an institution then. So, you only want the flyer?"
He raised an eyebrow. "That's right. 300 bucks for the flyers, right?"
"Oh no. For flyers only, that's cheap. Only 70 bucks, and I'll come out with 3 designs for you to choose from. I'll also provide you the flyers, 500 of them."
He paused slightly and asked with a weird face, "What's the three hundred service then?"
"That's for the full sales campaign planning," I said, keeping my tone steady. "I don't just design flyers. I study your store, your current workflow, your equipment, your meat inventory, and your customer habits.
"Then, I come up with a strategy that maximizes efficiency and profit. Think of it like… a roadmap for your store, showing which products to highlight, how to present them, and how to handle preparation so there's minimal waste."
Bent's eyebrow twitched. He was listening, but didn't interrupt.
"I'll also evaluate what machinery you have, what's slowing you down, and what upgrades would give you the most benefit for the least cost. Then, I'll suggest improvements— You get a set of recommendations, complete with delivery times and costs, so there's no guesswork."
Bent shifted slightly, gripping his cleaver. I could tell he was impressed, though he tried to hide it.
"Finally," I continued, "I design the marketing materials—the flyers, signage, and potential in-store layouts—and coordinate a rollout plan for your campaign.
"You'll know what to promote, when, and how, so customers will notice and come in. Everything is based on real numbers and practical workflow improvements. Nothing fancy, nothing unnecessary. Just what actually increases profit."
Bent's face softened into a small smile. He was still gruff, but a bit softer.
"So, you don't just paint some pictures on paper," he muttered with a slight impressed look.
"Nope," I said simply. "I make sure your store works better, looks better, and earns better. The flyers are just the tip of it—they're what gets your customers' attention, but everything else ensures they keep coming back."
"Did you do that for Bob?" He asked.
I nodded and said, "Yeah. I found him the new bulb hookup, and new hookups for other new appliances. The campaign, I planned that too. Bob only distributed the flyers."
Bent nodded in understanding. "I could hire you. But those improvements… Will it not cost money?"
"It will. But you can pick what you want. I'm not going to force you into anything. I'll show you something like a catalog after I studied the market and business."
"Hmm…" He put his cleaver down, crossed his hands together and began to think.
"Well, I'm not going to lose anything by this. The store barely made any money now. So I might take the risk."
He stared at me with sharp eyes and said, "But if you're scamming me. Just know, I know hundreds of ways to separate meat from the bone."
I smiled casually and said, "No need to worry. I'm worth the money."
"Alright. I'll pick that one. The 300 dollar service."
I set my bag down and unfolded a small notepad. "Great. Let's walk through your day. I want to understand your workflow, so we can see where improvements make the most impact."
Bent grunted, but nodded, sheathing his cleaver. "Fine. But I work fast. Don't slow me down."
I trailed behind him as he moved through the shop. The counters were well-worn oak, the cutting blocks deep with knife marks, and the meat cases had a faint chill. The floor was old concrete, slightly stained, but clean.
"Morning prep starts around four?" I asked, jotting notes.
"Yep. I cut, wrap, and stock. Customers start coming around seven," Bent said.
I pulled out a small pad and tapped into the system. "Current spoilage for fresh meat at this temperature… about 3-5 percent per week if you keep standard refrigeration," I muttered.
"No. It's more like 15 percent." He said with a painful expression. "Around 150 dollars worth of meat became worthless each month."
"That's… a huge number."
I checked everything, from his compressor, his walk-in freezer, his lighting, his shop cost, profit, meat preparation, and so on. I used ChatGPT to understand more about his butchery and left at around 2.30.
"I'll come back tomorrow with the plans." I muttered.
"Tomorrow? Can you even do it in that time?" he asked with confusion.
I smirked and said, "Of course. That's what you're paying me for."
With the internet, my market research skill and chatgpt's help, I could find some ways to revamp his store.
I left to go back to school and to join Eric in his Vista Cruiser. Otherwise, Red would know I have ditched half of the school day.
(Read up to chapter 66 on my patreon.
Patreon.com/relifewithkarmicgacha)