I wake up the next morning feeling sad and miserable. My hands still stink from cleaning the gutters, and the first thing I see is the face of my boss looming over me.
"Get up, get ready for more chores."
"Hold on, let me wake up first," I groan.
"Nope. First chore: take this broom and sweep the floor. And if I see even one crumb, I'm gonna make you lick it off the floor—for every crumb, even if it's shit."
"Wait... there's shit on the floor?"
"Maybe," he shrugs. "I did have a goblin as a butler once. I haven't asked anyone to clean the floor since, so... yeah, there might be some dried-up shit."
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Now start sweeping."
"What am I even getting paid with?"
"I'm glad you asked!" he smirks. "You're getting paid in levels. And later, you'll get some equipment. So now you know what you're working for—get cleaning."
After what felt like forever, I finally finished sweeping.
"Great, you're done," he says, eyeing my work. "Now I've got a slightly easier chore for you. Clean my porch—with a toothbrush."
"Wait, what? My toothbrush?"
"Yep, because it's a level-one toothbrush," he says smugly. "Sure, I could craft a new one, but that would take time and I'm lazy."
"Don't you have a sponge, like the one I used for the dishes?"
"I have a rag, but you're not gonna use it."
"Why not?"
"No reason, just get to work."
Grumbling, I get down to scrubbing the porch with my toothbrush. "And for every chunk of dirt you miss," he adds, "I'll be putting it in your dinner. And you'll be scraping it off the pavement."
After a grueling 40 minutes, I'm finally done. Exhausted, I call out to him, "Hey, I'm finished! Come check it out."
He steps outside, looks at the porch, and then—of course—walks across it with his dirty boots, tracking mud everywhere.
"Well, I guess you have some extra chores to do," he says with a grin. "Next, mow the lawn, trim the bushes, and remove any branches I don't like."
"Do you have a lawnmower or something?"
"Yeah," he replies, pulling out the tiniest, dinkiest pair of scissors I've ever seen.
"Are you sure these are even sharp?"
"They should do the job. Now get to it."
After what feels like an eternity, I manage to finish half of the lawn.
"Well, it's dinner time," he says. "You only finished half, but at least it's most of it. You can get the rest tomorrow."
Feeling sorry for my future self, I head inside for dinner, hoping tomorrow won't be worse—or that future me won't decide to quit out of sheer misery.
.