It's Not the End of the World

Look, it’s not the end of the world, really.

No use crying over spilled milk, right? And that’s all this is - spilled milk. Do you have paper towels? Okay, regular towels then, older ones that you can use as cleanup rags?

You haven’t done your laundry in how many weeks?

Ooookay then.

Well, I’m not your mom, so you’re going to learn how to do laundry. Dig out the laundry soap, and grab the top three pieces of laundry off the top so I can clean up the milk-

NOT YOUR UNDERWEAR!!

Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew…

Okay, fine. It’s not the end of the world. Give me that shirt, that pair of sweats, and… What is that?

Look even old, crusty, towels should not have enough structural integrity to win the Make a Bridge competition at the science fair. Just sayin’.

Of course you don’t have any laundry soap. Of course Mom brings her own.

What “delicates??"

Right. Into the car. We’re getting supplies.

No, it’s not the end of the world, but it’s long beyond time that you’re depending on your mom to come over and save you from Mount Stinky.

No, you’re not tanking up on snacks! Milk, laundry soap, floor cleaner, and a sponge. That’s it. Pay up.

What’s that in your hand? Put. It. Down.

Now, let’s get back before we have drying, sour milk to clean up-

Why did you flip off that cop? When I was speeding? Through a school zone??

woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop

It may not be the end of the world, but it may be the end of your world. You’re helping me pay for this ticket, buddy.

Now. Record this, and set it down because you’re helping. Stuff a load into the laundry. Stab it a few times in case it’s alive and demanding voting rights. The cup does the measuring – to there. Dump in. Cap back on jug. Push button here, here, and here. That’s it. We’ll come back when it beeps.

Now, upstairs. We have milk to clean up.

What do you mean you don’t have a bucket?

What’s that thing behind you?

Oh, yeah, that. Fill it halfway with water. Dump three squirts of this cleaner in it. Push in sponge, squeeze it in and out a few times, pull out, wring it out. Like you’re strangling a neck…

No, you’re the one getting down on your hands and knees. Now, start scrubbing it over the whole area the milk spilled. Yes, back and forth. Yes, under the fridge and the corners. Seriously, you expected me to do this, because I’m a girl? Be thankful I’m not strangling you like you did that sponge, but I’m thinking about it now.

I’m also beginning to understand just why you can’t keep a girlfriend around.

My dear, it’s called “weaponized incompetence,” and most women our age are getting wise to it. It would behoove you to gain some domestic skills, or no nookie for you. Small wonder your, what, three? four? previous girlfriends ran for the hills. You’re treating them like a bang maid, nothing more.

Oh, please. Most everyone our age knows that term now. Did you fall down an incel hole, and bang your head on the way down?

If you throw that sponge at me, you won’t like what happens.

I don’t care how much you miss your childhood, and having all your wants and needs met. You wanted to move out; this is a part of it. Think about some birds – part of the wooing process is building a good, safe, clean, nest. You build it, and you will come.

Sorry. Had to. Moral imperative.

But I mean it. Not being able to clean and look after yourself is a big turn-off for the ladies. It’s not their job to clean up after you, so you’d better learn how to do it yourself. And don’t foist it off when the next girl comes along, especially if she’s The One, your world will end.

Ding ding ding ding.

Okay, take a small break, grab your camera, I’ll show you how to use the dryer-

WHAT IN THE HOLY SUDSY HELL HAPPENED???

You - what?

You added how much dish washing detergent? When I wasn’t looking? Because you had a dirty plate in your laundry pile??

Well, now you have a sea of suds in your basement, and the cleanest basement junk east of the Pecos.

No, I’m not wading through that to open the cellar doors! You just might have a soap kracken living under there, and I’m not gonna find him! You wade through that muck.

No, I’m not gonna finish up your kitchen floor! Heck, wait a bit more, and this wave will do most of the work for you…

Fine. I’ll go outside and make sure you can open the door, and don’t suffocate in the process.

I swear, self, he’s a good friend, though he’s lost his mind…

BOOM.

Wendy, why am I flying?

THUD.

That… was unnecessarily owwie….

I should move. Eventually. When my ears stop ringing? Or maybe after a short rest break. Suds everywhere. How festive. It contrasts well with the flinders of what I assume used to be a house. I feel like I’m missing something… something important…

Hello, officer. No, I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, all the church bells have taken up residence in my head. Once I clear out the Su-ears Canal, I’ll get back to you.

Mine? Oh sweet baby flying spaghetti monster, no. My idiot friend’s, who can’t wash his own clothing without a woman helping-

Friend! He was in the boom boom!

No, I don’t know where he is! He was in the suds pool in the basement last I saw him!

I need to turn around? Well, can you help? I can’t find my legs.

Sure, I’ll wait.

Hello, Mister Nice EMT Person. Why, yes, I would love to take a ride on this sweet gurney that you’ve brought for me. Shiny chrome rails and wheels, I like that in personal transport.

Why do we have to hurry? Did you find my friend? He should be around here somewhere, check some of the giant suds piles…

wee ooh wee ooh wee ooh wee ooh wee ooh

Yes, Doctor, it does seem like I have a lot of broken bones. Because I do, in fact. Otherwise, why would I have all my limbs wrapped up like I’m in some movie?

Evacuate? In my condition? Doctor, I thought my hearing returned, did I hear you right?

Crack in the earth’s crust?

From an exploding laundry machine? How does that add up?

Basement full of experimental explosives?

Something something lithium-based magic prolonged contact with watery sudsy material?

Where would doofus even think to get that sort of stuff?

Foreign spy?

My friend, who can’t even clean his own clothing?

Failed mission? Well, he is a screw up on so, sooo, many levels…

Evacuating to the far side of the country? I’m one of the last left due to my condition? Oh – you thought I may be a part of it. No.

Where is the little asshole, anyway? I hope he’s in pieces, if he was going to set me up for his colossal stupidity.

Oh. Well, good. It would be quite a while before I could strangle him, in my condition.

Cool, helicopter ride…

wop wop wop wop wop wop wop wop wop wop

Hunh. I guess it was the end of the world after all. Maybe. I’ll miss the town, not so much my friend.

I guess it’s no use crying over spilled milk now...