I Made A Bloody Mess In The Kitchen Sink Novels & Stories

Once again, with zero self-restraint, I polished off every last bite. After freeloading meals for three days in a row, I started to feel a little guilty. This ghostly roommate was not just good-tempered. It also knew how to manage a household well. I took out a yellow sticky note from the drawer and wrote in thick black marker. [Hey, what’s your name? I feel bad about always eating your food.] I placed the note neatly in the center of the dining table. The next morning, breakfast was laid out on the table as usual.

The kitchen was a mess—dishes half-washed, water spilling over the sink, my shorts tangled around my ankles. “You’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. I rolled my eyes, though I knew he couldn’t see it. “So’s the kitchen,” I shot back, chuckling.

"Here—drink mine! I haven't touched it!” "What?” I waved my hands in refusal. "But how could I…” "It's fine. Just drink it. If you don't, you're disrespecting me!” "But—oh no!” During the scuffle, Maisie's grip slipped, and the drink spilled across the table, soaking the stack of exam admission slips perfectly. "Shit!” I didn't bother arguing with her. I hurriedly shook off the liquid and wiped at the slips—but it was no use. In my previous life, she had used this exact trick to ruin the entire class' admission slips, then turned around and accused me of doing it. The result was that everyone blamed me, the class monitor, for poor management and nearly ruined the next day's exam.

I'd tried my best, but the fancy stove was nothing like what I was used to. "I'm sorry, I'm still learning how to use the kitchen.." "This is garbage," he said, then deliberately dropped the plate. It shattered on the marble floor, eggs and toast scattering everywhere. "Clean it up. And make something edible this time." I dropped to my knees, picking up the broken pieces with shaking hands. A shard cut my finger, and blood dripped onto the white marble. "Disgusting," Sophia, the daughter, said as she walked in. "You're bleeding on our floor. How unsanitary."

“I, uh, thought it would be nice, when you said we would have dinner tonight and talk, well I thought that I would make you some of your favourites.” “And you were planning to have dinner in your bathrobe?” He’s no longer bothering to suppress his amusement. Jackass. Oh God, I am so embarrassed right now and it’s taking everything in me not to just scream, run out of here and lock myself in my room. “No. I got out of the shower and the smoke alarm started going off. Then there was some kind of cheese explosion and …” Embarrassed, I shake my head. He presses his lips together and scans the room, surveying the carnage I’ve caused in his usually immaculate kitchen. I better clean all this up be

As I made to put the toothbrush back in my mouth, a load of vomit pushed itself out of my throat and splattered on the mirror opposite me. "Oh, for shit sake." I exclaimed. I stared at the vomit, some of it dripping down the mirror and onto the sink. I considered smashing my head against the wall for a brief moment, but knew I would not go through with it. I let out an exasperated sigh, and fetched a bowl and cloth from the kitchen. Making a soapy water mixture like I did the day before, I dampened the cloth, and wiped the vomit of the the mirror and sink, before rinsing it down with fresh water from the tap.

he said. I looked in the direction of the kitchen, trying to figure out how she would make up such a story. "The kitchen is a mess. It has your scent, and her blood is everywhere, Avery," he said, and I went to the kitchen and lo and behold, he wasn't lying. There was a terrible mess of broken things, dented pots and pans with blood on them.

I wasn’t his son but if I wanted this whole thing with Miles to work till we get a solution then I needed to be the son that Alex wanted. By 6 am, I had mopped the whole place and emptied both trash cans. I then went to the kitchen and was greeted by a pile of dirty dishes and mugs. I had never imagined that I’d do dishes in my life. I began to roll up my sleeves. I have seen Alex do the dishes countless times so this shouldn’t be hard. I pulled out a wet ceramic plate from the sink and grabbed the sponge. The plate slipped out of my hand and hit the floor.

I hate that I woke up this morning with my hand between my legs, fingers inside myself, dreaming about being trapped again. I especially hate that my pussy gets wet every time I walk past the washing machine. "Hey, Cleo?" Mom's voice from the kitchen. I'm in the living room, pretending to watch TV, actually drowning in a complicated soup of rage and arousal and shame. "Yeah?" "Can you grab the flashlight from the cabinet under the sink? I think the garbage disposal is jammed again." The cabinet under the sink. The tiny, cramped cabinet where you have to practically crawl inside to reach anything at the back.

Badly. Then the kitchen sink started leaking again. Water dripping everywhere, forming a little pool on the floor. I called the plumbing company and they said they could send someone right over. Perfect, I did not bother changing. I stayed in my tiny white tank top that barely held my full tits and the matching shorts that rode up my ass cheeks. No bra, no panties. If the plumber was even halfway decent I was going to make something happen.