The new year loomed, and with it, a whole host of responsibilities that made Laike regret that his family wasn't more lazy. For New Years, his family planned on starting the celebration at his parents' house, then moving to each of the locations around Destiny City, which (unfortunately) included his apartment, too. Which meant he was expected to clean the s**t out of everything and keep it clean until the ninth passed, and his life went back to normal.

He knew he was expected to start cleaning early, and not the night before. He intended to start cleaning on the seventh, maybe add a bunch of strategic trash cans around the place until the eve of the eighth, take out the trash, and then the ninth would be the end of it.

But cleaning was… instantly draining. Whenever Laike thought about cleaning, he took a nap, and then the impulse to clean died, which freed him to go play games. And sometimes, wading through trash piles was annoying, but eventually he made a small path from room to room, at which point it was whatever. So Laike made a deal with himself: as long as he enacted his cleaning plan on the seventh, he could get as messy as he liked.

Thus, the day started as any other. Laike roused at noon, fish flopped his way over to his gaming chair, struggled into a sitting position, and swiveled back toward the monitor. He had a half-empty can of tea sitting next to him, from which he took a drink and gagged. He spat a clump of mottled-looking slime back into the can, then tossed it atop a heaping pile of garbage that overflowed from his wastebasket. He checked the rest of the five cans sitting to the right of the monitor, and found a Baja Blast that looked promising. He figured the science that went into it killed literally anything it touched. There was only a third left, but he downed it anyway.

The wakeup game of the day was GTFO, he decided, until his doorbell rang like seven times. He nearly leapt out of his seat, sending it rocking backwards and toppling them both onto the floor. Empty takeout wrappers broke his fall.

"I'm coming," he wheezed as the breath reentered his body. Laike sprung himself back up, righted his chair, grabbed a jacket that was long enough to cover the top of his Bananya pajama bottoms, and shuffled his way through the Trash Sea to the door. He had to kick a bag of garbage out of the way before he could open the door fully.

With a sigh, he opened it. And stared, wide-eyed, at his visitor. "He…? Um. Did someone die, or did I miss a get-together?"

His sporty little sister stood at the door, frowning from under her backwards baseball cap. Her hair was parted into low pigtails that flopped lifelessly against her shoulder blades while she shifted from side to side. Her eyes were narrowed to shrewd little almonds while she sized him up; her older brother was always a little slow on the uptake, so it didn't surprise her that he hadn't figured it out in their few short seconds of staring at each other.

"Wrong and wrong. That's two strikes. Last chance, Li."

"Um…" Laike rubbed tiredly at the back of his head, where his scalp was still sore. "You wanted me to play a game for you?"

"No! Imeanyesbutafter." She double-fisted Laike's chest and pushed past him, only to immediately slip on the garbage bag and fall face-first into… more garbage bags. Spitting like an offended cat, she scrambled back to her feet. "Li, what the ********!"

"I've been busy?" He nudged the door closed with the heel of his foot. "I haven't had time to take them out."

"Ughhhhh Li! It's ten ******** feet from your front door to the curb!" He dragged her hands down her face, then kicked the offending garbage bag. It tore, having caught on the lip of her boot, and a waterfall of fruit peels, torn clothes, bandages, old food, and wrappers spilled on top of her foot. "Okay. Calm down, He. Just. It's fine. Everything's fine. Oh. My. God." After a long, exaggerated sigh, she turned to her brother.

"So. Mom and Dad said I should come help you, but Grandma promised me she'd double my hóngbāo if I came and cleaned up your s**t. Here I am, now go get the box from my car, 'kay?" She stood, feet apart, fists on her hips, and glared up at him.

Laike always withered and caved under that glare. "Okay, okay, I'll get your box… they'reprobablygivingyoufivedollarsanyway…" He stepped back out into the frozen tundra and immediately regretted going outside shoeless. He hopped over snow patches in his socks like it was a ******** game of tic-tac-toe. His balance was well enough to make it to his little sister's borrowed SUV without eating snow or giving himself frostbite.

When he opened the rear door, he found a box loaded to the brim with different sprays, multiple rolls of contractor bags, scrubbers and gloves and paper towels and sponges and magic erasers. It looked like his sister bought out the cleaning section of the nearest Walmart, though Laike suspected their grandma fronted the bill. There was a hand vacuum piled in there, too, and Laike sighed with the weight of the box as he hefted it from the back seat.

Then he couldn't see around it, and wound up stepping in snow patches and uselessly shaking his feet out like a cat as he made for the door.

"Whew. Okay, so, I was thinking…" Laike heaved the heavy box onto the entryway sideboard and dusted off his hands. "What if you clean the place yourself, and I match what Mom and Dad give you on New Years?" That had to appease her. He hoped.

His sister was already wrinkling her nose at the sofa, where a handful of garbage bags had collected (he wasn't using his consoles at the moment, so it wasn't like he needed the sofa). She'd paused in picking at it to survey the rest of the room: trash all the way through it, trash for miles, trash for days. Laike's apartment was Trash Planet. "Won't do it for less than double what Grandma gives me."

Laike sighed. "I can't afford that."

"You can pay me in installments. 20 percent interest monthly."

"How about I give you what Grandma will pay you?"

"Laike have you smelled your place? There's no way I'm cleaning this shithole for less than double."

"Hmmmm." Laike rubbed his face. His sister was always a lot better at bargaining than him; if ever there was a deal to be made, he was the one losing it. "I guess, but no interest, okay?

"Fine whatever Momwouldgroundmeifshefoundoutanyway." She beelined for the box on the sideboard and wrenched out a still-packaged pair of gloves that she tore into with her teeth. "You gonna shtand there n' watch?" She asked around a ribboned piece of packaging.

"Nopeseeyabyeeeee~" Laike was already running out the door, barefoot, and glad to be away from his sister's aggressive energy. Even if it meant stepping through little snowdrifts. And probably getting frostbite later.

His sister had yelled something when he left — probably about shoes — but he had Niter for that. And a quota to finish, he guessed.

WC: 1270