>You have an annoying song going off… It’s your phone’s alarm.
 
>Ugh. You quickly swat it and sit up, groggy as hell. You hate that song. Your old man and that bitch got married to that song, and you remember saying it could wake the dead.
 
>You try to focus on the time, but you swear that was something repetitive in another story. You shrug and pocket your phone.
 
>You get up and wobble slightly down the hallway, your balance off.
 
“Urgh… damn. The hell am I gonna do, today…?” You wonder, walking into the living room and yawning.
 
>You felt like there wasn’t really anything major… Until you remember looking into the void that was your fridge.
 
>You only had bread, cheese, some meat, and mayo.
 
>…Shit. Well, there’s your plan for the day, then.
 
>You remember that your maid’s supposed to be back and then go to the front door.
 
>You barely crack the door before you’re knocked back by it swinging open and pounced by-
 
>Ms. Screw. She’s surprisingly strong, damn.
 
“W-whoa, h-hey-“ You sputter, trying to speak to her.
 
>But she quickly cradles your head against her stomach, rubbing it. She seems to be a bit worried, considering you smashed it really hard. Or that you fell when she opened the door.
 
“I-I’m fine, Ms. Screw! C’mon, lemme up.” You protest, patting her arms.
 
>She stops and climbs off you, taking the time to close the door before lifting you up off the ground.
 
“W-whoa. Thanks.” You mutter, feeling a bit emasculated.
 
“Arfarf!’ She happily responds, dusting you off.
 
>… You maybe need a translator. Or an app. Or something. You probably can guess what she says, though.
 
>You go over to the couch and sit down. You think about if you can go to the grocery store… Or if that’s possible, with your maid here.
 
>She’s already gone, probably to sort out the clothes and stuff. You notice that there’s a big notebook and a festival of pens on the table. Did she fish them out from under the couch, or were there that many on the floor?
 
>You shrug- and make a mental note to stop doing that- As you grab the notebook and a bright blue pen.
 
>You begin to write down a list, thinking about what you’d like to eat… and what you’re actually willing to put effort into to cook.
 
>It’s pretty lengthy: The stuff you’d like to eat, anyway.
 
>You hear rustling and pause. You have a feeling that if you turn she’s going to be right there.
 
>You write some more, the odd feeling not going away. You finish the list and sigh, slowly turning your head.
 
>There’s nothing there. Or, more specifically, no one there. Huh.
 
>You sigh and lean forward to put the notebook on the table-
 
>And see a pair of peculiar eyes staring up at you.
 
“..! Holy shi-“ You exclaim.
 
>You toss the notebook in the air and hop backwards, onto the couch and toppling over it onto your back.
 
>And head. For the third time.
 
>You wheeze in pain as the air leaves your lungs, and the sudden noise of heels scampering around the couch fills the void.
 
>You think as a dull pain begins to reverberate through your skull. She was out of the room. How did she get back in here so fast? And
how did she manage to sneak around without a sound? She has heels on! Did she even leave?
 
>Before you can begin to visualize answers to your questions, Ms. Screw is lifting you off the ground again, her smile a bit wider than before.
 
>You smile weakly at her as she brings you to your feet and dusts you off again, not seeming too hurt.
 
“Ahah… You gotta stop doing that, Ms. Screw…” You cough, half-nervous, half-blushing.
 
>She nods and then holds out your book. She tilts her head, as if to ask what it’s about.
 
“Oh, thanks… This is a grocery list I was making.” You explain. “I was kinda planning on making a run to the store-“
 
>You see her eyes squint a bit at you, her smile a bit questioning as she tilts her head the other way. Is she questioning your ability to do so? Is it because of your injury?
 
“Oh, uh… I can probably do it while you take care of the clo-“ You begin, while reaching out for the notebook.
 
>But she steps back with it, that same skeptical smirk on her face. She doesn’t want you to do it? Or does she…?
 
“W-what?” You stammer, confusedly. “I’m fine, I swear! I can go shopping on my own!”
 
>She tilts her head in the other direction, shifting her weight to the other side as she pulls the book in closer to her.
 
“…What, you want to go shopping in my place, then?” You ask, jokingly.
 
“Arf~!” She replies, bouncing happily.
 
>…You’re sure that’s a yes. You blink, your mind thinking of all the embarrassing possibilities of her walking around the store with you.
 
>What if she barks in public? What if you lose her and aren’t able to find her again? Will she do most of the shopping or will you? How does she even act in public?
 
>You snap out of it and wince a bit. Eh. How exactly will this work? What, do maids usually walk into a grocery store with just their outfit on and get food? That can’t be a thing.
 
“Nah… You can’t. I mean, you? Going into the store like that, all dressed up in a maid outfit? It’s just not-“
>She doesn’t stick around for the rest of your excuse, because in that moment, she darts up the stairs and goes into one of the rooms up there.
 
>You freeze as you remember that you were asleep yesterday and she cleaned the house.
 
>That means she must know where some old stuff is. Including some clothes from people who stayed here.
 
>You swore you made a note to throw out everyone else’s old stuff. The place was yours now, so-
 
“Arf!”
 
>…Oh boy. You snap out of your mental scolding to turn face-to-face with-
 
>Ms. Screw. But instead of the wacky, almost outlandish outfit you expected her in, she’s in sensible clothing.
 
>She has her hair in a ponytail and some very thick-framed glasses on, which amazes you that she can see in those things. She has on a T-shirt with a tie design on it, a vest on top of that, and a preppy skirt with blue and black lines all over it. She even found some long striped socks and converse sneakers to match the skirt…
 
>Except… they’re kinda small.
 
>Way too small.
 
>The shirt’s practically a tank top, her belly exposed to the world. The vest drapes past it, casting a shadow on her pale skin…
 
>The skirt, though it’s a bit long skirt, comes down to her thighs. The socks and shoes are the only things that seem the right size.
 
>You look her up and down, disbelieving. How did she find any of that stuff and put it on in record time? Whose clothes were they? This is the first time you’ve even SEEN them.
 
“Um…Ahh…” You begin, trying to find an excuse but failing. “I… Guess?”
 
>Ms. Screw bounces happily, making you blush as you see a lot more than you thought you were going to.
 
>Her ample chest, not hidden by her maid outfit, flies up with her and so does her skirt, showing you a bright pair of panties with
bones on them.
 
>You’re pretty sure she didn’t find those.
 
“A-ah- Well! Um! A-alright!” You stammer and turn, trying to get the after-images of boobs and undies out of your head for long enough to formulate a plan. “H-here’s what we need to do! I need to go to the bank and get enough money out so you can go shopping. Okay?”
 
>You turn back and see she’s smiling happily and nodding. Maybe she really likes to shop?
 
“Alright, lemme just get the keys to that old rust-bucket outside and-“
 
>You’re cut off by a jingle of keys being held out to you. Did… She go in your room and get those? When?
 
>You sigh. You’re just going to get more questions than answers with her, so you should really stop doing that…
 
“…Ah. Thanks.” You say, slowly taking them from her. “Well, let’s go.”
 
>You open the front door and let her bound out past you, chuckling at her energy as you lock the front door.
 
>You wobble a bit while taking the stairs, prompting her to grab you and help you down the stairs. She pats you on the head after you get to the bottom, causing you to wince a little. You feel a bit old…
 
>She happily leads the way to your old Chevrolet, the paint fading from a once solid-black into a weary gray in some spots and the designs on it fading into obscure lines. The only thing that’s new on it are some of the parts: Which you HAD to buy, or else it wouldn’t run.
 
>She seems to wince at it, the spots and general decay of the car prompting her to turn to you, her smile a lot smaller than it was.
 
“Ah, yeah… This was my old man’s. He left it when he moved on to bigger and better things, you know? Hell, he could’ve at least hauled it away or something…” You joke, opening the driver side door.
 
>You don’t expect her to leap in the driver’s seat past you, slam the door, and then look at you with a smirk of satisfaction on her face, though.
 
“Wha? Hey! C’mon, I’m drivi- Whoa.” You wobble in the middle of trying to yank the door open, slumping on the door. “… Point taken… I’ll need to call a doctor when we get back…”
 
>You move out of the way and she slowly opens the driver’s car door and escorts you to the passenger’s side. You comply, flopping into the old black seats.
 
>Ms. Screw hops in and takes the keys from you. You close your eyes and relax… Or try to. You hear the car start up and you briefly wonder one question.
 
>Can Ms. Screw even drive a car?
 
>Before you can even lift your head to ask the question, the car jerks back and then forward, onto the road at an alarming speed.
 
>Oh shit…
 
-----------------------------------------------
 
>Answer: Yes. Yes she can drive.
 
>However, she drives at a near NASCAR level when not on a main road. So the time you spent taking it easy was short.
 
>Most of it was spent squealing with the tires around each turn she took.
 
>But she calmly made it to the bank and parked, allowing you to go inside and get some money out.
 
>That took only a few minutes, but you were shaky as hell from something other than the trauma to the head.
 
>Thank god your old man decided to hook you up for the rest of your life… You’d never be able to afford all this stuff if that bitch
had her hands on it.
 
>You shake the envelope happily as you flop into the car. A thousand big ones is a drop in the ocean, but that’s all you really need
for just groceries.
 
>You turn and see her lean back with her hands on the wheel. She tilts her head, looking at you questioningly.
 
“Oh, this is the money for the groceries. I don’t wanna get too many, since it’s just me and you…” You explain. “So, We’ll either need to make a lot of trips or cut some stuff down on the list….”
 
>You reach for the list in your pocket, but you don’t have it. Wait. You left the list!
 
“…Aw, hell.” You mutter. “I left the list.”
 
>Ms. Screw’s head tilts slightly before her smile grows wider. She points to herself. Or more specifically, her head.
 
“… You have it memorized?” You guess, popping open the envelope and taking 5 of the 10 hundreds out of it.
 
>She just nods, throwing the car in reverse and pulling out of the parking spot before you get your seatbelt on.
 
“Wow… How?” You ask, but she just throws the car in drive and pulls off, turning onto the street.
 
>You’re not sure if she wants to answer you… or can. But you might as well enjoy the ride and help.
 
>A few songs, sharp turns and miles later, you pull into the megamart’s parking lot and park in a short time. Ms. Screw looks over at you, tilting her head a bit. …What’s she waiting for?
 
“Oh, you want me to get out first? Or…?” You question, but she just smiles and hops out of the car, closing the door behind her.
 
>You hurry out of your seat and stand up, only to see she’s walking ahead and into the store. She’s not really planning on waiting around, is she?
 
>You hurry after her, making sure the car’s locked and rush through the doors. You’re hit with a refreshing breeze as you step inside, and you see Ms. Screw already has a cart and is walking into the aisles.
 
>It becomes an odd game of cat and mouse: You try and catch up to her, but she skirts away, always putting a bunch of things in the cart before you even reach her.
 
>You finally turn a corner and crash into her, pushing her against the shelf she’s reaching onto. She yelps and turns, a blush on her face and a new expression: One you’re not prepared for.
 
>Her eyes are wide and piercing like the first time you met, but there’s something in them… Her smile is gone, her lips slightly pouting as her body tenses.
 
>You stumble back, the sudden display of fear surprising you. But as soon as you blink, her normal clear eyes and wide grin is back, and she catches you by the arm.
 
“Whoah! Hey!” You sputter. “I’ve been chasing you all around this store! Don’t scare me like that!”
 
>She giggles and puts the crackers she was reaching for into the cart. Now that you have a chance, you inspect some of the items in the cart.
 
>She’s put a lot of the stuff you remember writing on the list in there… as well as a bunch of the junk and frozen stuff, too.
 
>You also notice there are a lot of fruits, vegetables and health stuff. A lot. …Maybe she thinks you’re unhealthy?
 
>You look over at her and she stands, letting you inspect her handiwork. You turn back and shrug. It looks fine to you, so you give her thumbs up.
 
>She smiles and bounces in place, causing you to panic and look around my make sure no one else is getting the show you are.
 
“A-alright, Nice job, Ms. Screw! …You’re rushing so we don’t run out of time, right?” You ask. “Well, C’mon! Let’s get on out of here!”
 
>She nods and nearly shunts you out of the way, pushing the cart and jogging along with it to the register.
 
>You trail behind, but before you can even begin to help, she’s already throwing most of the groceries onto the conveyor, stacking them even.
 
>The employee working the register can’t keep up, you realize, and you slip past Ms. Screw to help get them out of his way faster.
 
>He finally finishes ringing all of it up and bagging it, Ms. Screw pausing for a minute after clearing the cart to help him with that.
 
>You pay him for it… and tip him. He seems really flustered since Ms. Screw kinda overwhelmed him. He stammers a “thank you” and takes
some deep breaths.
 
>You turn and – Where’d she go?
 
>You sigh and head towards the exit, knowing full well she’s probably hauling all the bags in the trunk by now. You jog outside and
she’s picking them up, two with each hand, and setting them in the trunk.
 
>You rush over to help her, but she’s nearly done already. You turn and sigh at her, a look of exhaustion on your face as you shut the trunk.
 
“Ms. Screw, I know you’re a maid and you’re working for me, but let me help! Please? Just a little?” You plead.
 
>She gives you a warm smile and nods before pushing the cart to the return area.
 
>You pull on the passenger side door and realize it was unlocked. Your heart stops as it swings open.
 
>After the shock wears off, you dive into the passenger seat and begin fumbling around, making sure everything’s there. Nothing’s
missing, but that could’ve been a disaster if you hadn’t been rushing...
 
>You breathe a deep sigh of relief just as Ms. Screw hops the driver seat and shuts the door. She looks over at you and pats you on the head.
 
>You should really say something about how odd that is, but you don’t: It feels reassuring to have her do that for now.
 
>You sit back as she starts the car up and gets a dangerous glint in her eye. You gulp and snatch your seatbelt on as she tears out of
the parking lot and into the alley behind the store.
 
>You clench your teeth as she manages to take every back road and one-way street possible to get back to the house. She knows a lot of them, that’s for sure.
 
>You finally let air return to your lungs and blood to your knuckles when she slowly pulls up in front of the house and parks.
 
>The sun’s going down and it’s dusk… Grocery shopping was an all-day affair.
 
>She turns and smiles at you, seemingly proud that she made it here without killing you both, maiming a pole or pedestrian or getting a ticket.
 
>You stare back… and get an idea. She does it to you, so…
 
>You reach out a head and pet her head, taking off your seatbelt as you do. She closes her eyes and accepts it, sticking her tongue out cutely. You chuckle at the absurdity of it, but you feel happier knowing that this is something you can do to help each other.
 
>You get out and pop the trunk from the glove box before locking and closing the door. Ms. Screw tosses you the keys and you pocket them.
 
>You both grab as many bags as you can: you both chuckle since you both wanted to save time. You close the trunk with your foot and set off, through the gate and up the stairs.
 
>You set the bags down for a minute to open the door, and Ms. Screw just blows past you with all of them. So much for letting you help her. You shut the door and jog behind her just as she reaches the kitchen.
 
>You hear the beeping of the watch on her arm. She looks down sadly at it as she sets down all the bags.
 
>You step up to her and pat her on the head, reassuring her. She really doesn’t like leaving soon, does she?
 
“Hey Ms. Screw… Thanks for helping me with this today. You've done a lot for me, so you can go on home. Oh, and you can keep those clothes… I dunno where you found them, but I’m trying to get rid of all the old stuff…” You say as you pat her. "See you tomorrow?"  
 
>She smiles and quickly pulls you into a hug, leaving you flustered as she runs off to get changed and probably go.
 
>You smile to yourself… and then count how many bags you carried in. The smile fades as you realize how long this’ll take.
 
>There’s more than nineteen… Great. You’ll at least work up an appetite.