It’s grade six at Langwarrin Primary School. We’re the top of the school, even the unpopular kids. Last month, we had to do an assignment about underwater. I designed a rad submarine with a drill on the front. My friend and I started a little comic strip called The Rock Pool. I’m proud of the crab I drew with my signature style eyes. We stopped drawing that because my friend told me my manta ray looked like a penis, which I couldn’t deal with.

This week, the teacher is telling us about money and jobs. He asks me to stay in the classroom for a few minutes of my lunch – he very seriously sits before me and asks if I’d like the highest-paying job in the game – Bank Manager. It’s a very serious job with a lot of responsibility. I said yes.

A few days into the game, and we’re all deep into it. There’s a black market of sports cars being cut out of magazines and sold for game cash. The perpetrators are reprimanded. My friend and I start a side hustle of drawing Pokemon for people.

Oh, you want your Pikachu to have Raichu’s ears? That’ll cost extra.

All that practice drawing Sonic, Yoshi and penis-shaped manta rays is starting to pay off.

I make an appointment with the teacher.

Very seriously, I tender my resignation.

I’m making a good, honest living off imaginary creatures.