Bob hated cleaning. Oh, how he despised it, often finding any reason to avoid it. But now, as he swept away soap and other cleaning products, hate curled in his mind. Cleaning a mess he didn’t commit was a slight he would have to pay back. That goblin Jill had truly pissed him off. His teeth grinned as he saw a single goblin's mess and handwork. It was lucky that, despite that, he hoped no other goblins would bother to follow her. His eyes glanced over the mess and narrowed as he saw everything. All of it was wasted. Sure it was not his money, but he had to run out to get them. That train of thought brought another group of problems. Those minor items, how would they be replaced?

Most of these cleaning products were common in the normal world, but things changed. Most cleaning items came about till the thirty at the earliest. Even bleach would be a revolution to some backwater, he thought. Now they were worth their weight in gold and almost twice as hard to replace. That made Bob even more bitter, especially if the creatures that did it were still there.

Was there even a civilization that could replace it? Bob argued in his own mind. Probably not so. The chemistry that was used to make them would not exist. Would there be any use for it ? If it did, mostly nobles or those of wealth would have something similar.Plus, it would be much weaker, as only because of modern technologies were the chemicals as strong Bob mused.

Slowly sweeping the powdered soap and detergent, all Bob could think about was the rules of this new world. Although it seemed familiar, there were oddities he needed to figure out. Then there was leveling up, something he really needed. Hopefully, he could gain something quickly. First thing he needed to do was to figure out the Xp and what he needed to do. Then he needed to find out the weapon damage and if there were scaling or modifiers.

Since the system seems to be based in the classic Osric/ DND, it should have some similar elements but the issue was the finer points. Well, most rpgs games were based around DND whether as a companion piece or objection. Because of the history of the game, anything could be a part of it which made his head spin. Grumbling, Bob’s left slowly lifted the small shovel, while the other grabbed a large plastic bag. With a practiced flick, he dumped the contents of the shovel into the bag and then tied it.

It was tedious work, including sweep wrapping and annoyed scrubbing of the floor. Finally, after the cleaning, Bob stood scampering as fast as he could away from it.

Once he was within the kitchen, Bob sighed, looking over to the door. His mouth morphed into a scowl as he looked at the back door quickly locking it. His grandmother was right about leaving it open, was dumb.

But she never considered him or how he was. The critiques were quick, broad and brutal. She never told bob anything good he did only bad. Bob shook his head, his rage growing far too much. So, with a bitter yawn, Bob decided he needed sleep.

Stepping away from the door, he crept through the dining room and hall bitterly. Bob didn’t want to alert his grandmother, which would mean more work. He had enough of that. Gingerly, Bob crept past the bathroom and to the squeaking of the goblin. Bob hoped it was drowning, but he wasn’t delusional. More likely, his grandmother was trying to clean it, which was funny in a cosmic way. Still, he wanted no part in it, simply stepping past into his room.

The heaps of trash paper, dirt, and clothes covering his bed remained there. The same was true of the white papers around his dresser and cabinet. It was all topped with an equal helping of dirt and empty bottles that were never moved. Bob simply shifts away from the mountain, allowing for a simple parting for himself. That was all he needed, after all. For some rest, he can slowly wake up to the more tedious stuff of life.

Unlike her grandson, Dexter was pleased. This creature was not as uncouth at first glance, or at least enjoyed the bath. It stood shaking from the cold, wrapped in a hand towel. She could only smirk as it reminded her of her own time with her children. Clothing her would be an issue. The ragged mess that she wore was both too dirty and unbecoming of a woman. But that strange woman was too short of her clothes and what of her bust? She deserved better than being ogled by her grandson.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Dexter sighed, wondering what she could wear. It would have to be modest. What could match the green? As she stared down at the goblin, these questions danced and played in her head. The little creature shivered in the towel, those big plate eyes almost as confused as Dexter's.

“What happens now, mistress?” The little goblin, Jill asked. “The water was too cold and I don’t know what more I must do to please you.

That strange statement assumed Dexter's face. Her light grin pushed her wrinkles and older warts upwards. Kindly, she turned to look for a nightgown. She did not have to look as far as a simple black gown appeared on the floor. Gingerly lifting the gown, Dexter tilted her head with a smile. This would be interesting.

Jill loved to sleep. It was possibly one of the rare times a goblin would be safe and at peace. This place she slept on the sofa was the softest thing that she had ever slept on. She would be lucky if she slept on a rock. Usually, the goblins slept in a pile using their own bodies to regulate heat.

In her dreams, she was powerful. No, the mistress ruled over her, no overlord commanding her. She gave orders she would be the great one, they would give her the treats. Her grand command sputtered out into the real world as mere grumbles. But that didn’t stop her as she bellowed with the dream. Armies rose at her command, clad in all the shining things she could never have and they were clean. They glistened in gold and that Human Bob was the leader bringing tribute to her. Those sweets and foods were hers, not men or orcs.

Jill sat on her own throne about to eat a fruit but a song began. That melody haunted her and strangely felt familiar. It was a light hum that was rather heavenly and far away. A strange lady seemed to hover over Jill for a moment only to rip her apart with green hands. It always consumed her with grief as another monster came. A large orc tossed her away as the song stopped and the screaming began. Jill always hated this part of her dream.

The wriggling green of those frosty nights and the whips rippled through her mind. All she could see was the fire of those pyres that burned the dead. Unusually, it grew until it became a wide inferno, reducing the surrounding images to ash. Then those burning fingers reached down at Jill. The malicious flame formed the face of the man who almost killed her twice. Grabbing her upward, Bob roared, shaking her. This woke Jill as she stared into the hell pit that was Bob.

Shaking in fear Jill gulped desperately holding her bladder. His tall frame held her with nightmarish ease, this tan skin reminding her of the orcs. The man wore a snarl, and strange white teeth stuck out to her. Far too clean, Jill thought in her mind. She avoided the eyes; they seemed to blaze with a power that shook her. Through stuttering teeth, she begged.

“I am a boss. What do you need to master? Jill looked pleased as she gazed at her overseer. Brown-nosing was an inborn goblin trait.

“No, none of that. You were having a fit, and you needed to get up. It was time for breakfast.” Bob retorted, holding the little creature. “We have a busy day today.”

“We?” Jill asked.

“Yep, now shut up and eat without question,” Bob commanded, dragging the goblin to the kitchen.” We need breakfast to get started.

To both Bob and Jill's surprise the kitchen remained intact. There were no burning wrecks, destroyed utensils, or stained floors. Eggs were surprisingly cooked along with slices of bread. Jill watched Bob’s cooking like a child, as this was her first experience with a stove.

“So master is that magic ?” Jill questioned.

“No science,” Bob grunted quickly, scraping eggs.

Confused Jill stood on her chair leaning forward. Her cat-like eyes shone with a sparking interest. With a swift breath, she asked, “ What is that ?”

Bob frowned looking back at the goblin. She had her mittens on the table smudging the white tablecloth, which he would have to clean up. The table had held her up despite how weak the table was, or at least how he was too strong perhaps. Gulping he slipped into his cupboard grabbing some plates.

“Step back I am coming in hot,” Bob said, sliding the plate down onto the table. With a practiced ease, he slipped the eggs onto the plate. This was confusing for Jill as the food was hunted or poorly cooked when compared to the eggs. She quickly gobbled the meal, shoveling it into her mouth.

Bob's response was as swift as it was brutal. The spoon slapped Jill's knuckles, stopping her meal.

“None of that, use a fork and wait for the bread,” Bob commanded, placing down a slice of bread. Jill whimpered under the blow, which was nowhere as bad as the orcs but still hurt.

“You mean. Why is the bread so white ?” Jill questioned.

“Shut it. It is good and rare. After you eat then the work can begin.” Bob started his meal. The two ate in relative silence, only interrupted by the furious slaps of spoon goblin hands. Despite that, it was possibly the greatest meal Jill had ever eaten. And her most peaceful.

But for Bob, it was his most stressful, as he had become a nanny for an energetic child. Every moment he had to stop her from smearing her greasy hands on the table or stop her from chewing so loudly. Sighting grabbed both the plates turning away to clean them. Bob tried to be silent but it was difficult. He wanted to rant and be a loud bastard, a grumpy grip at Jill. Slowly Bob cleaned, storing all his rage for the rules testing. It slowly bubbled into his mind that would make his test for this new world. But he had to make sure his little goblin would survive it.

Bill escorted Jill the goblin out of his house into the front yard. She wore a makeshift armor of pillows cloth and any soft item Bob could find. Then he bound it together with as much rope as possible.

“So little goblin let us stress test the new world,” Bob spoke maliciously.