The kitchen was quiet.
Too quiet.
I stared solemnly at the sink drain, where my loyal knight had vanished in a swirling whirlpool of dairy and despair.
> "Farewell, Sir Stoolius…" I whispered. "May your journey through the pipes be swift and un–"
BWOOOOOOOSH!
The drain erupted like a geyser, spraying water, soap bubbles, and a single confused spaghetti noodle.
And then…
Through the steamy mist…
He emerged.
Standing atop a chariot made entirely of bubbles, pulled by two majestic rubber duckies flapping their tiny plastic wings, was Sir. Stoolius the Glorious.
He glistened—not with filth, but with lemon-scented dish soap.
An angelic chorus echoed from the surrounding sponges:
> "AAAAAAAAAAAAA~"
Juicebringer (me) wept citrus tears.
Sir Stoolius stood tall, a broken fork strapped to his side like a knight's blade.
He raised a bubble wand like a royal scepter.
> "MY LIEGE!" he bellowed in full opera voice.
"I HAVE DESCENDED INTO THE ABYSS OF PIPE AND PLUNGER…
I HAVE FACED THE DREADED HAIR MONSTER…
I HAVE BATHED IN THE FORBIDDEN SOAP OF THE ANCIENTS…"
He posed dramatically as one duck gave an approving squeak.
> "AND I… HAVE RETURNED… CLEANER THAN EVER BEFORE!!"
I clapped.
> "Welcome back, Sir Stoolius."
He smiled proudly.
Then immediately slipped on leftover milk and faceplanted with a loud plop.
> "I REGRET NOTHING."
---