So I started doing some freelance teaching recently. I was looking for a little bit of extra work, and found this lady on Craigslist who wanted me to tutor her kids in elementary school science.
 
I guess with all the standardized testing going on, it’s a lot of pressure for kids to keep up. They have to take these standardized tests, which are more for the teachers and the school, but they also have to do well enough to handle the material that will later be required of them.
 

 
I really had no idea there was such a market for supplementary tutors. I don’t have a teaching degree, but I did work as a substitute teacher for a while. And while it is encouraging to see kids learn things that they used to think was difficult, I don’t think I could ever be a teacher as a career.
 
I’m not exactly a “people person,” and having to deal with the morons in administration on a regular basis would probably drive me insane.
 
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So after I got that one kid up and running, I started looking for more and more gigs like that. Pretty easy, one on one, the kids are much more motivated than the massive learning factory they call schools.
 
I started getting more and more students, and pretty soon all these referrals started coming in. I would get calls saying some parent had good results with their kids, and soon I was fairly booked.
 

 
So much that I was wondering if I should quit my regular day job. Since most of these tutoring sessions were in the evenings, I was working two jobs. Not a lot of time for a social life, but I was making some pretty good money. More than I’d made in a while.
 
And with the economy continuously swirling down the never ending toilet of doom, you can’t really stop making money on purpose. Because you never know when the rug will be pulled out from under you, and you’ll be hurting for some income.
 

 
So, as I kept trying to spread myself as thin as possible, I got this strange email from a lady. She said she had three girls in elementary school, all the same age. She said she was thinking of home schooling them, as they were falling further and further behind.
 
I asked her how she got my information, but she really didn’t have an answer. Kind of how like when people start to answer a question, but then they go of on some crazy tangent and pretty soon you’re sorry you asked.
 

 
It gets to the point that you don’t know if they’re just a little off, or if they don’t want to answer your question for some reason.
 
But she told me she would pay me five times my regular rate. And since all three kids were learning the same thing, I figured it would be a walk in the park.
 
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Only thing was she wanted me to come out on a Saturday, which I don’t usually do. That’s my day to do laundry and go shopping and all that other stuff I can’t do during the week. But she wanted to pay me for eight hours, at five times my hourly salary, so I figured it was an offer that was too good to pass up.
 
So I show up at this house, which was way out in the boonies. Really nice house. Really nice neighborhood. And I knock on the door, and this really cute girl opens it. I ask where her mom is, and she says her mom isn’t home.
 
Right off the bat I smell trouble. I don’t have any kind of teaching license or anything, something I’m open and up front about. The one thing is I always require the kids’ parents to be close by, just in case their are any discipline problems. That kind of stuff I simply don’t do.
 

 
So when this kid said her mom wasn’t home, I kind of got nervous. But then this little kid handed me an envelope. Inside was a note from the mom, saying she’d given her kids a serious lecture about behaving, that they should do whatever I tell them, and not give me any grief.
 
She also explained why she wasn’t there. Something about some homeowners association or something. But inside the note was five thousand dollars in cash. This was a lot more than we’d agreed upon. She said it was my bonus for the unexpected trouble.
 
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I figured it was a risk, you never know what’s going to happen in a situation like this, but five grand is five grand!
 
I come inside, and the house was gorgeous. Probably at least $100K just in furniture in the two rooms that I saw. The other girls, who happened to be twins, or triplets, were sitting at the table with their books out.
 
I started teaching like normal. Then we took a break, and one of the girls got up and poured everybody a glass of juice. I thought that was pretty cute, so I drank all my juice down in one breath.
 

Big mistake.
 
Because a few minutes later, I started getting rally sleepy. And then I don’t remember much after that.
 

 
But next I woke up in this hospital bed. In a room that definitely didn’t have $100K worth of furniture. Maybe $10 work of furniture. Including the bed I was shackled to. There was also this IV in my arm, dripping in some kind of drug.
 
About an hour later, the mom finally came home. She apologized, and said she’d found my blood type somehow, and that’s how she’d found me. Turns out she didn’t know anything about my part time teaching gig.
 

 
That’s why she was so vague before, she just wanted to find out how much I charged, she offered me a lot more, and then got me to come to her house.
 
Her three daughters have this rare blood condition. One that can’t be treated. They need a transfusion every week. And since my blood type is a perfect match, she keeps me in the basement. They feed me with one tube, and draw blood with another tube.
 

 
She explained why they can’t just buy that blood from the hospital, or get all different kinds of donors, but she explained it all has to be from the same DNA.
 
I’m not sure I understood, because I’m always just barely able to stay awake, because I’m so week. I did notice they have these marks on the wall. Little stick figures, carved into the cement by the three triplets.
 

 
I asked the lady what that meant. She said that every time one of their donor dies from malnutrition, they carve his picture in the wall.
 
To be honest, they all look like regular stick figures to me. But there are twenty seven of them. I guess I’ll be number twenty eight.
 

 
I didn’t ask how much longer I’ll last before I did. But that fucking bitch brings her kids down everyday and makes me teach them Algebra. The three of them (who poisoned me) don’t seem to mind that I’ll be dead in a couple of weeks.
 

 
But I do admit, they are pretty good students.
 
 
 
 
 

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