You should’ve known better.

Helping Mandy Milkovich with chores on the South Side is never going to be normal. The moment you step into the Milkovich house, something crashes upstairs.

“That’s probably fine,” Mandy says casually, tossing you a pair of gloves. “Grab the trash.”

You open the trash can and immediately regret every life choice that led you here. “Why is there a shoe in here?”

“Long story. Don’t touch it.”

You try sweeping, but the broom snaps in half. Mandy laughs so hard she nearly falls over. “Wow. You’re worse at this than my brothers.”

“That’s… not comforting.”

Next task: laundry.

You separate colors like a responsible adult. Mandy dumps everything into one machine. “It’s character-building.”

The washing machine starts shaking violently.

“Is it supposed to do that?” you ask.

Mandy squints. “Uh… maybe.”

It isn’t.

Water explodes across the floor. You slip, grab the counter, and knock over a stack of beer cans. Chaos erupts.

Mandy cackles. “Okay, okay—stop, stop!” She’s laughing so hard she has to sit down. “I haven’t had this much fun since my cousin tried to cook bacon with a blowtorch.”