Shortly after Lorenzo disappeared, Merete woke up thrashing. "Aghhhh! Why is there a chair stuck to my assssss!" she cried.

"You're greased up, stupid!" shouted Isabell. She turned to look at the sink, which still had water running into it. It was also where Matthew had died, but right now she didn't care. "Maybe jumping into the sink will wash away the grease!"

Suddenly, Matthew rose from the sink, alive and well. "Hey, don't do that! Can you swim?"

Isabell had a flashback to three things: a boat, a squid, and Drew. She shuddered. "No."

"Exactly." He swung his legs to dangle over the side and placed his glasses back on his face. And that's when he saw the wheel. "Why does that wheel have my name on it? Lorenzo told me he wouldn't put my name on it this time!"

Merete had noticed the wheel as well. "Aha, Matthew was it? You're on it so many times!" She guffawed, rolling on the floor despite having a chair stuck to her butt.

"Take a closer look," Matthew said.

Now Merete saw all the arrows, as well as the slice with her name on it. "What!" she cried indignantly. "Does this mean we're all chosen now? What are we even being chosen for?"

"Washing dishes," said Matthew. "But we can just give everything a rinse and throw them in the dishwasher."

"The what?" Merete and Isabell asked.

Matthew stretched his long arm all the way to a metal box in the corner at least twenty meters away, and pulled it open. Inside were lines of racks. "Dishwasher. Dish. Washer."

"Wish dasher?" said Merete.

"Yes, you are," grumbled Isabell. "You dashed my wishes for a grease-less and slave-filled life!"

"Oh, let me help you," said Matthew. "With the first part, anyways." He hauled a large pot filled to the brim with water out of the sink and skipped over to Isabell. "Close your eyes!"

"What are you—" started Isabell, but she could not finish her sentence as a barrage of water slammed into her face with enough force to knock her backward onto the floor.

"No! No! I said I can't swim!" she screeched. "I'll kill yo–" She stopped suddenly, realizing that her bottom was distinctly chairless. Although her skin and hair still felt slimy, her urge to die to escape a grease-filled life had dwindled considerably.

Matthew dunked the pot back into the sink and advanced towards Merete.

Merete shrieked. "Wait! Let me prepare!" Slowly, she stood...and then she turned and booked it, running away at full speed. At least, as full speed as she could get with a chair stuck to her.

"Oho, so you pull off the ultimate tactic, eh?" said Matthew.

"What's the ultimate tactic?" demanded Isabell.

Matthew grinned. "It's...NIGERUNDAYO!!!!!!!!!!" With that, he swiftly gave chase, and his long legs gave him the reach he needed to catch up to her. He launched the water at her, and it slammed into Merete while she was sprinting with enough force to launch her off her feet. Unfortunately, the direction she ran in and the water stream that Matthew flung out happened to propel her in the worst possible direction: right into the dishwasher.

With a loud ker-SLAM! Merete and the chair crashed into the dishwasher. Whether the chair leg caught on the door on the way in or the dishwasher had suddenly gained sentience, the dishwasher slammed its door closed right after Merete barreled inside it.

Matthew dropped the pot. "Oop."

Before Isabell could enjoy the moment of peace, the dishwasher suddenly opened again, projectile vomiting Merete as well as all the racks that were already inside it across the kitchen. She watched, mouth agape, as Merete sailed right over her head and dropped into the sink with a splash.

"Can she swim?" asked Matthew, watching her and not moving a muscle.

There was some more splashing, before Merete surfaced, noticeably less greasy than Isabell. "Yes!" she chirped.

"Oi!" snapped Isabell, turning to Matthew. "Go dunk me again! I gotta be cleaner!"

Slowly, Matthew turned toward her. Black lines and dramatic shadows breaking the rules of physics appeared on his face, making him look menacingly gay. "I refuse."

Isabell let out a pained squeak. "How dare you defy me! Aren't you Lorenzo's slave?"

"I was," said Matthew, "but then I learned free will."

"You can learn that?" said Merete, clambering out of the sink.

Matthew nodded enthusiastically. "Yep yep! I ate this funny fruit that Lorenzo cooked one day and had diarrhea for a month straight. But once that was over, it was like I reached nirvana. It's why I decided to go bald." He pulled one of his arms with his other arm, and the arm stretched out across his entire wingspan. "I also got these cool elastic powers!"

Seeing Matthew stretching out his limbs like that made Isabell feel nauseous. "Stop that, you freak! Just clean the dishes and get outta here! You said you just need to use that wish washy thingy, right?"

Matthew gestured with his long hands at the dishwasher pieces scattered on the tiled floor. "We might be cooked."

Merete's eyes widened. "Whaaat?! Lorenzo's gonna cook us?!"

"Actually, he might. I've never seen his eyes glow as red as they did when he saw you two fighting during the banquet."

"We have to get a new disher wash!" Merete wailed.

"Okay!" said Isabell, jumping up. "I'll get us one!"

In reality, she just wanted to escape and never see Mertthew or Mattete's stupid faces. However, when she ran to the door and tried to yank it open, she suddenly found herself standing right where she had initially stood up.

"What the heck!" she screamed.

"Let me try!" said Merete, running to the door.

"Wait a min—" Isabell shouted when, in the next moment, Merete fell on top of her.

"It's just like last time!" shouted Merete. "Except this time, we don't have plates in our mouths!"

"Way to spell it out, grand detective..." wheezed Isabell. "Oi, o-head! Get us the dishwasher!"

Matthew considered this, realizing this meant he could get out of the kitchen for a while. "I was already thinking that," he said to Isabell, "so I am technically not following your orders!"

+ = +

Matthew wished he had stayed inside Lorenzo ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)'s mansion, for it was frigid outside. Right, it's that time of month, he thought. The time where the weather goes on its period and becomes extra mean.

He made his way down the long snow-covered driveway (why do rich people like to have long driveways anyways?) and looked up into the distance, where he saw a singular house on a small hill. If he made it inside that house without dying, surely he would not freeze to death.

Suddenly, he remembered why he had come out in the first place. It was to get a dishwasher. But did that house have a dishwasher? Guess he'll find out. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Could Matthew get away with robbing this place? Just reach in with his fingers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and yank out the dishwasher? Use his humble bald head ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) as a distraction? Jaybe he should just knock. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Or jaybe not.

He approached the house and peeped ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) through the mail slot. Seeing no one, he pressed his face through the hole ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). The rest of his body followed, and he straightened back into shape inside the foyer.

"Now where's the kitchen?" he muttered, stroking his bald chin.

Slowly, he tiptoed around the house, which twisted and turned and had many rooms, which he avoided because he was lazy. However, as he searched, the fear of having to go into the rooms to check began to ate away at him. Maybe he really should've stayed inside Lorenzo( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)'s mansion after all!

Eventually, he came to a long hallway with no doors except for one at the very end, with the words KITCHEN displayed on a sign above it in big bold letters. Once inside, he spotted what he was looking for: a dishwasher!

For a moment, Matthew could not help himself. "Yippee!" he cried out in joy.

Now, to get the dishwasher out of the house. Only way out is the way he came in, right?

 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Matthew twisted his arms into a strong rope, which he wrapped around the dishwasher. With some loud grunts ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), he managed to yank the machine out.

The dishwasher loudly scraped the floor as he dragged it around, and it left horrifically deep scratches on the floor.

In the hallway, he felt a tap on the shoulder. He spun around, and a tall Chinese boy stood there, staring at him with his narrowed blue eyes 👁.

"I heard a yippee," he said. "And grunting. And scraping. And I followed the trail of damaged floorboards."

"Uhhh," Matthew trailed off dumbly.

"I'm disappointed," said the teenage boy. "I thought I'd see someone getting a train run over them. If you know what I mean."

"( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)?" said Matthew.

"What?" stammered the boy, turning pale. "How did you do that with your mouth?!" He shook his head vigorously in an attempt to compose himself. "Anyways, trade offer?"

"I just want a dishwasher," Matthew said, slapping the machine ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). "Please let me take it."

"You don't want a dishwasher," the boy said. "You want to be my dishwasher."

"Huh?"

"You just told me that earlier. Your biggest desire is to be my dishwasher. Soap excites you."

"I mean..."

"Yes, yes. You want nothing more than to stand at the sink washing grease off my plates. You want to be my slave."

At the word slave, Matthew's eyes narrowed into slits. He entered a nirvana-like state, and his head began to glow, somehow growing balder. The boy tried to avert his gaze, but some unknown force kept him from turning away.

The air around them began to hum, and the walls began to tremble. When Matthew opened his mouth, a sonic wave blasted out along with the words:

"I REFUSE."

When Matthew returned to normal, a hole in the shape of the boy now decorated the hallway wall. He peered through it, but the next room was dark.

"You okay?" he asked. "I don't wanna be charged with pedophilia ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)."

A feeble voice called out, "I'll...get you..."

"Good, you're untouched!" said Matthew. "Now, where was I?"

Just then, the floor beneath his feet shook. Matthew was confused — wasn't he back to normal? Or did his shockwave damage the house so much it would now collapse onto him?

Suddenly, a buff woman with ancient Korean armor stormed into his view. "Intruder?" she boomed in a deep voice, jabbing a finger at him.

Matthew quailed. "Yes?" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"You know what that means," said the woman. "Intruder equals slave!"

At the word, Matthew narrowed his eyes again, but to his dismay he felt no divine Buddhist energy. Instead, all he felt was a quivering sensation in his bowels—he had pissed himself instead ​​( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

He looked up in fear at the woman, who now rapidly approached him. The dishwasher was too heavy to drag—there was no way he could take it and escape the woman and her biceps at the same time!

His life flashed before his eyes. Is this what he learned free will for? Just to become someone's slave all over again?!