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Sunday:
Knifejaw
My mailbox is alive and blinking. A few fossils from the museum -- maybe one of them is the last piece of that dinosaur I’ve been trying to complete -- a letter from Tangy -- “I didn’t understand your letter, bitch” -- and a letter from the Happy Room Academy: I’ve scored 2,741 points for my filthy room.
Damn it -- I need more space.
I mail some fossils, and then head over to Nook’s shop. What do you know? He’s selling a fishing rod. I buy it, and head out to the docks.
Fishing is surprisingly haphazard. If there’s a fish nearby, it’ll bite. You jam the A button, and you win. You sell the fish, and make not enough money. Salmon and bass are worth only 200B each. What a gyp.
In the sea, on Sunday afternoon, I catch a knifejaw fish and a red herring. Imagine my surprise when I find these fish are worth 5,000B and 3,000B, respectively.
It looks like we’re going to be paying off that loan TODAY, Billy.
No matter how many of these fish I catch, I can’t remember their names. They’re either “striped knifejaw” or “knife-jaw,” or something similar. It doesn’t matter. I’m far too busy selling them to notice what their name is. They sure are ugly, though. 5,000B for such an ugly fish? Go ahead -- take them all. The red herrings are kind of cool, though. Still, money is money.
EVERYBODY NEEDS MONEY -- THAT’S WHY THEY CALL IT MONEY!
An hour and a half of fishing, and I’ve paid off my loan. That so wasn’t hard. Tom Nook asks me if I want to upgrade my house, and I say yes. Well, since Billy’s still wearing that skull-printed shirt, we’ll go ahead and give him the benefit of the doubt: Tom says, “Upgrade?” and Billy says, “Damn straight, punk.”
I can either make my room bigger or install a basement. Let’s go for a basement.
Now I have to wait until tomorrow.
I go up to the post office, and write a letter as I stand outside. Gone are my real-life mad typing skills. The damned clunky keyboard design pushes me to speak in internet shorthand. I address a piece of Christmas stationery to Hazel, and jot off a few random letters:
“LOL OMFG WTF ROFLYMLFAO.”
I attach a salmon.
This ought to get her attention. I enter the post office, send the letter, and head back outside.
I don’t feel like playing anymore.
[Next: Day 6; The Review]
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