[Hyde POV]
I found the basement storage room as I was picking up stuff for the garage sale.
"Hey Red. You have a room back here." I saw the vents and my memories freshen up.
This was supposed to be my room in the future.
To enter the room, I had to duck underneath the vents. The room has exposed plumbing pipes too, and it has a heating vent.
"So?" Red was disinterested, he looked at me weirdly.
"I'm just thinking, what if I move here instead of sharing a room with Forman?" I suggested.
Red scoffed. "Steven, if you ask before you get suspended, I might consider it."
Eric entered the room too and said, "Wow. This place is a dump. Hyde, you really want to move in here?"
"Yeah. It's better than sharing a room with you." I muttered.
Red gave me a scrutinizing look and asked, "Steven. You really want to move here?"
"It has heating. A place for my cot. A door for privacy… Yeah. I can live here."
It even has a small window for ventilation. Although there was barely any sunlight coming in since it was facing the north.
"Alright. If you want to live here, then handle everything yourself. Clean it up, move most of the stuff to the other room–"
"There's another room?" I was shocked. "How big is this house?"
Red chuckled, his ego blew up slightly because of my surprise.
"Well, it's smaller than this one. And it has spiders, so no one goes there." Eric muttered flatly.
The room was just next to the room I was in right now.
I checked it out with Eric and Red and saw that it was filled with numerous unused items. There were boxes everywhere, and jars of preserves.
Everything was piled up in the center of the room.
However, the natural lighting in the room was much much better than the other one.
That one was quite dark. This one has two windows facing east, so there's sunlight coming in. There's another basement window on the north wall.
It also didn't have any vents or plumbing on them. I was confused as to why the previous me picked the other room instead of this one.
Maybe he didn't want to do any work cleaning it up, or he was more comfortable living in a dark place.
"This place is much better than the other one." I muttered.
Red and Eric asked simultaneously, "Really?" They were both confused.
I nodded and said, "It needs a lot more work, but there's no need to duck when I enters the door–"
"If you have a door to open." Eric interjected. I looked at him with confusion, and then he showed me the doorframe.
My eyes widened slightly as I muttered, "Ahh. There's no door."
"Yup." Red muttered with a teasing grin. "I don't feel the need to add one to this since the wall covered it up anyway."
To get here, I had to walk to the end of the hallway and turn right, so that's why I'd never seen this room before.
"I can add a door later." I muttered simply.
Red scrunched his eyebrows and said, "There's too much work to do. I'm telling you right now, I'm not helping you with anything."
"That's fine." I replied. "I can do it myself."
Eric laughed mischievously and said, "Oh man. Hyde, you're going to be living with spiders now."
The spiders were coming in through the cracks around the basement window. I think I could fix it with a crack sealer or concrete patch if I had the internet shopping function.
"It's fine. If it bites me, then I might get spider powers." I joked, which made Eric laugh.
Red sighed and said, "Alright. You can focus on the room later on. Right now, we're going to work on the garage sale first."
Both of us nodded. Then, I saw something interesting. It was an old typewriter. "Does this still work?" I asked.
"It works." Red replied. "I'm not selling that, so don't bring it outside."
"Hmm…" I thought about it and said, "Can I offer a typing service for the people who came here, to add on to my contribution in addition to the brownies bake sale?"
Eric looked at me weirdly. Red smiled slightly and said mockingly, "You know how to type using the typewriter?"
"I do." I replied. I grew up using a keyboard for my essays and all. I was quite good at it, more so than the ordinary people in this era.
"Alright." He gave me a book and said, "Type out the first page. I'll see what you're capable of."
I nodded and took his challenge. My writing speed was quite fast. Although I had to pay attention to the keyboard before adapting to it.
I had a 99.9% accuracy most of the time, and since there were no backspace buttons, accuracy played the most important part in the typewriting business.
I could type around 40 wpm (words per minute) before, but now in a new body, it was lowered. Still, it was quite fast for a non-professional.
"Alright. You can do it." Red agreed reluctantly.
"Nice!" Eric shouted and gave me a high five.
…
"Thirty-two... How do I get to seventy? This is really hard," I muttered, checking the favorability meter.
Mrs. Forman suggested I have a bake sale to contribute to the garage sale since I told her I felt bad about not helping with anything.
So I decided to make brownies. I guess this was what the synopsis was talking about.
I was pretty sure the episode wasn't playing right now since we were doing boring stuff like setting up tables and tagging junk.
Mrs. Forman helped me with the brownie batter ingredients and told me what to do while she set up outside.
I could change my character—become more responsible and caring—but in a sitcom, everyone had their own roles.
I was the teen rebel.
So baking brownies filled with pot was the truest form of what my character would really do.
"Oh, Steven, you are such a joy to have around the house. I can't believe your mother abandoned you," Mrs. Forman said excitedly as I mixed the batter.
She paused, realizing what she'd said, and quickly corrected herself. "I mean—went on such a long trip."
I laughed at her words, not bothered at all. She walked out through the sliding door.
[+1 Favorability]
I widened my eyes slightly. It seemed that even reacting to other people's jokes could get me some points.
Kelso stood next to the stove, grinning like an idiot. "Boy, I sure do like brownies."
I turned to him with a smile. The guy cracked me up every time.
"Hey, uh, you know what's got two thumbs and really likes brownies? This guy!" Kelso said, pointing at himself, mimicking Fonzie.
Eric walked into the kitchen and groaned. "Hyde! Oh, come on! I'm asking you not to make these brownies."
He continued, "I mean, my mom and dad are—"
Mrs. Forman walked back in, and Eric's eyes went wide. "Way too fat!" he blurted.
Mrs. Forman stared at him, stunned.
I laughed. "Nice cover."
She leaned on the table, one hand on her hip. "You know what, Eric? You just leave him alone. This is Steven's contribution to our garage sale. And I happen to know that he put the special ingredient in these brownies."
"'Special ingredient'?" I said, pretending to be shocked.
"I told him not to!" Eric added, panicked.
Mrs. Forman smiled brightly. "Yes… Love!"
She giggled in excitement, her mushroom-like hair fluttering as her head moved.
Eric laughed nervously. I snickered. "Oh yeah, there's a whole big bag of love in there," I said while stirring.
Laurie, the blonde slutty sister, walked in wearing a blue tube top with no bra and satin shirt.
"Mom, crazy Helen from across the street is switching price tags, and Dad says he's gonna kick her in the keister," Laurie announced with a bitchy voice.
Mrs. Forman gasped. "Oh no—he'll do it, too." She rushed toward the driveway.
Laurie turned to Kelso, smiling flirtatiously. She sashayed closer, pushing her chest forward. Her voice turned girly, "Hi, Kelso."
"Oh, look! It's chocolate batter," she said, reaching for the bowl. She tried to dip her finger in, but I instinctively batted her hand away.
She turned to me, mouth agape. Her voice turned bitchy again. "What the hell did you do that for?!" she snapped.
I said seriously. "Don't touch my batter. I don't know where your hands have been. I don't wanna give everyone in the neighborhood STDs."
Laurie stood frozen, shocked. Eric burst into laughter, shoulders shaking.
Kelso's lips tugged into a smile and he shouted, "BURNN!!"
Laurie turned to him with a look of shock and flabbergast.
"Oh man, that was a great burn," Eric laughed, patting me on the shoulder.
Laurie glared at him, then smirked at me. "Oh really? Then what if I do this?"
She plunged her whole hand into the brownie batter, mixing it up bare-handed.
"No!" Eric yelled in horror. Kelso laughed out loud, enjoying the scene.
Laurie pulled her hand out, looking smug as she showed it to me.
She smirked. "See? Now what?"
I tilted my head. "Is your hand fine?"
She frowned, inspecting her palm. "Huh? What are you talking about, freak—"
Before she could finish, I grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand toward her face.
*Plap!*
She slapped herself with the batter-covered hand. Chocolate smeared across her face.
Her eyes widened and she stared at me, stunned in place.
Eric widened his eyes in shock. Kelso laughed till his stomach hurts. I smiled at Laurie with satisfaction on my face.
[+10 Favorability]
"HYDEE!!" Laurie fumed in anger.
She swung her dirty hand, wanting to take revenge on me. But I swerved to the left to avoid her. Eric however, wasn't athletic enough to avoid it.
Although Laurie's hand didn't reach Eric, the brownie batter splattered on his face and shirt.
Laurie gasped in shock, not expecting Eric to be the victim. I chuckled slightly and said, "Damn Forman. Why didn't you dodge?"
"How–" Eric was flabbergasted. "Damn! This is my favorite shirt!" He complained.
Mrs Forman heard the clamor and entered the house again. She saw the sight and her face flushed in horror.
"Laurie! Eric! What were you doing with Steven's brownie batter?!"
I pretended to be the victim and said, "Mrs Forman. They just started fighting like animals. I tried to stop them– But I'm helpless–"
"Oh Steven!" Mrs Forman melted at my fake crying face. Laurie and Eric were horrified.
[-3 Favorability]
'Damn. Negative huh? They don't like the fact that I'm messing with Eric or that I played victim?'
Many people who watched a tv show would relate to the main character. Eric was the main character in this show.
So when I was messing with him, the audience wouldn't like it.
'My favorability is at 40 now. I need thirty more. Please let me get 30 more before this episode ends.' I begged internally while receiving Mrs Forman's comforting hug.
"I want you all to clean this mess up and apologize to Steven!" Mrs Forman yelled at the two.
"Mom! I didn't even do anything. Laurie was the one who fondled the batter." Eric said defensively.
"Now, Laurie. Is it true?" Mrs Forman said, narrowing her eyes at her daughter with disappointment.
Laurie's eyes shook as the situation was turning against her.
"I hate you!" She yelled at me before crying whiningly as she rushed through the kitchen door to go to her bedroom.
The scene paused and I pried myself away from the nice lady.
We never really got to the part where I told people I was making special brownies.
To be honest, I didn't think I could do that.
In the sitcom, yes, seeing the parents got high was fun. But if I need to live here, then what would happen when they get their minds back?
They would immediately guess I was the one who put the weed into the brownies since I was the one who made it.
I have no money to live elsewhere right now. If I got kicked out of here, I would be done.
In order to make up for the 'special brownies' effect, I had to create another fun plot for the second half of the sitcom show.
…
Outdoor on the driveway. I set up a brownie station and sold the brownies to the people who walked by.
There were two categories. One labelled as normal brownies. Another one was 'Fondled by Laurie' brownies.
Unsurprisingly, the 'Fondled by Laurie Brownies' was a big hit amongst virgins. It sold out in the next five minutes, even though I made it smaller than the others.
That alone earned me 12 bucks– which was around 50 bucks in 2025 money.
The normal brownies were sold for 50 cents each. The brownies for simps were sold at 1.50 dollars each.
When I was selling the brownies, I found the target for my next plot.
Bob and Midge– Donna's parents. Bob was a stout man, with an afro, side burn and has a very bad taste in fashion.
Midge was a pretty blonde airhead, with a big chest and no bra, and she spoke slowly like a stereotypical dumb blonde in sitcoms.
I have to say that Midge really did fill out her sweater nicely.
"Kitty… I noticed you're selling the kissing dolphins Bob and I bought you." Midge picked up the porcelain doll and spoke with a pitiful tone.
Feeling guilty, Kitty immediately said, "You know, what is that doing on this table? Red, I told you not to sell that!"
After shifting the blame, she grabbed the dolphin from the table. "Give it to me. I'll just, I'll run it right back into the house."
Midge smiled, thinking Kitty just made a mistake, and not that she had bad taste in giving presents.
"Oh. And, Red, you're also selling that pocket fisherman we gave you for Christmas." Bob saw his gift. "Aren't you going to run it back inside?" Bob was confused when Red only stared at him.
"No Bob. That's a really dumb gift." Red blurted out brutally, which made Bob taken aback.
Midge and Bob then walked towards my table. I said, "Bob, you look like you're hungry. How about some brownies?"
"Sure. Let me have one for Midge and… the rest for me." He picked up the brownie plate which has 5 brownies on it and handed me 10 bucks.
"Ahh, keep the change." Bob added. "Damn Bob, you're a really macho man." I said, fully impressed.
Bob and Midge were flattered by my words. Then, they left the table to go and eat.
Eric approached me, fully anxious, "Hyde. Did you give Bob the special brownies?"
"Calm your tits Forman. I didn't make any special brownies. I couldn't get to it since your mom was in the kitchen all the time to make sure Laurie didn't come back." I said with dismay.
Eric patted his chest in relief and said, "Thank god. I thought I'm screwed for sure."
As he laughed, I said, "Forman. Do you want to bet something with me?"
"What?" Eric asked, intrigued.
I took out a packet labelled, 'Professor Copperfield Miracle Legumes'.
"What is this? Beans?" Eric was confused.
I smiled and said, "10 bucks that said I can sell the 'magic' beans to Bob before the garage sale ends."
Eric burst into laughter. He said sarcastically, "You want to see magic beans– Hyde, that's impossible. Bob might be a little off there–" He twirled his finger pointing at his head.
"But even he won't fall for it."
"So, you want to bet or not?" I asked him again.
"Alright. I'll do it."
We shook on it.
"I'm going to make 10 bucks easy!" He celebrated early and left to go inside.
I smiled as I saw the favorability counter move up again.
[+5]
…
Outside of the TV show scene.
I was typing for a neighborhood grandma on the typewriter. All the brownies were gone, and I'd made a solid twenty-five bucks from it.
*Tap tap tap tap tap.*
"You should move downward because the words won't fit there—" the old lady said as she leaned over to watch me type out her recipes.
"I got it," I replied, adjusting the paper slightly. The words lined up cleanly, fitting perfectly inside the section I'd measured.
She looked impressed. I was rolling my eyes inwardly. The old coot was really taking advantage of me.
I charged fifty cents per page. It was pretty cheap compared to the professional typists, who asked anywhere from a dollar to a dollar twenty-five.
The grandma wanted four recipes on a single sheet, divided neatly into quarters. It was a pain to format, but not impossible.
I could've made 2 dollars, but instead, I had to smile and treat her politely for fifty cents.
When I finished, she smiled and handed me two quarters. "Thank you so much. You type really well too.. Not a single mistake."
I faked a smile and said, "If you're happy with my service, tell a friend. I'll only be here for another couple of hours."
"Okay! I'll tell all my friends about it," she said brightly before shuffling away, slow and hunched over her cane.
"Damn. She walks like a sloth." Eric commented as he approached me.
"Did you sell anything?" I asked him.
He smiled cheekily and said, "A dirty gray vase. Although, I did lower the price by around 2 cents."
"You're dead when Red finds out, man." I spoke seriously, teasing him.
He laughed and asked, "Serious question though. When did you learn how to type?"
"Just a while ago." I replied ambiguously. "Do you want me to write your love letter to Donna? It'll be 5 bucks per page."
Eric was stunned. "5 bucks? Why are you charging me 5 bucks when you charge everyone else 50 cents?"
"Because of the icky factor." I joked.
He laughed and said, "Alright. I get it. You're jealous of me and Donna."
"Nah. Not anymore." I said sincerely. Instead of being relieved, Eric panicked and asked, "Huh? Why not? What's wrong with her now?!"
Before I could answer, a man in his 40s came to the table. "Hey, did you help my mother type out her recipes?"
"Is your mother Grandma Paz?" Eric asked. He nodded and introduced himself, "I'm Pax. I lived down the street."
"Nice to meet you Pax." I shook his hand. "I'm Hyde. This is Forman."
After the introduction, he asked, "Can you type out resumes too? My mom told me you're a good typist."
"Yeah. I can. Have you already written down what you want typed out?" I asked him.
He sighed and said, "Sorry. I don't know how to write. I never learned it before."
There were some people like this in the small town, especially in the 70s.
"It's fine. I can help you fill in the details. Where have you worked before?" I asked him curiously.
"At the auto plant," he replied.
"Same as my dad?" Eric was astonished.
"Yeah. I started working at 16 years old. I never looked back. Now the plant is closing, I need to find another job to take care of my mom."
Pain flashed on his face, but he tried to act tough.
"What job are you trying to get now?" I asked him.
"There's an opening at Fatso Burger as a meat flipper, but they need a resume." He said with a sigh.
I didn't type his resume first since it would be a hassle to correct things on the typewriter.
As I wrote down what he wanted to type out in the notepad, I asked him, "Do you want to add in 3 more dollars for my special service?"
"What kind of service?" He asked, slightly wary of me.
"You know me jotting down the details is already something a typist would charge for, right?" I asked him again.
He nodded, gulping his saliva slightly.
"I could help you embellish your resume for three dollars. Put in some buzzwords in there, some corporate jargon, so you can use it at several job applications instead of just at Fatso Burger." I offered.
Eric was the one who's stunned and asked, "Hyde, you can do that? Weren't you rebelling against corporate America?"
I looked at him with disbelief and said, "Ironically Forman, when you learn about your enemy, you found out what they love too."
Eric and Pax nodded in understanding.
I added to Pax, "Of course, you don't have to worry about me forcing you to use the service. And you can also check the level of the resume embellishment before you pay for it."
He became elated and said, "Alright. I will do it."
"Good. Come back tomorrow. I need some time to plan it out perfectly. Are you sure you have given me every detail about your work experiences?"
When the night came, I would just use ChatGPT to change his resume into a more formal tone.
He agreed on my terms and I set the resume aside for now.
I got another job from a little girl– a 7 years old, wanting me to write a letter for Santa Claus. It wasn't a letter to request stuff, but to thank him.
I love her gratitude that I made it for free. It was just a few sentences after all.
"Aww. It seems that you have a heart after all." Eric teased, pretending to be touched.
"Go do your work Forman." I said gruffly. "You're like a fly that keeps buzzing around."
Before I could chase him off, Mrs Forman approached us.
(Check out till chapter 60 of the fic in my patre.on
Patreon.com/relifewithkarmicgacha)