That night, the Pickens household was full of nothing but chaos. With only one bathroom on the main floor, the residents of the actual house were all close to pissing themselves. Jim had apparently forgotten about his other offspring until now. People were even passing out and sleeping in their own urine. Since no one was into watersports, this was an embarrassing situation for all of them. They were all very uncomfortable. None of them were happy.

In order to lift everyone's spirits, Jim wanted to acquire a special book: the Book of Chaos. He had just one problem preventing him from getting the surprise source of entertainment. Doting on his prisoners had reduced his bank account to $577. He needed $750 for the expensive magical book. Right now, he simply couldn't afford it . . . yet.

Jim discreetly rearranged the basement and sold some things to pad his bank account. He did this quietly in order to not spoil the delightful surprise. The slaves benefited from it, too; they had extra room to move around! Tim would be pleased next time he came down to observe the containment area. He had always advocated for the humane treatment of the trapped prisoners.

Our glorious God Kevin rubbed his temples, wondering what madness was occurring in Jim's mind. How was allowing Jim to have this book a good idea? Nonetheless, He did not intervene.

Jim set the book on the counter and turned his back for just one second. A child of his grabbed it while he wasn't looking. Horrified, he ordered the boy to put it down in a harsh tone. The poor child nearly cried as he put it next to the TV. That was a close call, Jim thought, I need to keep an eye on this thing if I'm going to use it. I have to be a responsible adult somewhere, and I'm going to do that by being the one responsible for this chaos! Jim decided to keep the object on his person at all times.

He and Tim checked on the prisoners the next day. Their investment wasn't paying off as much as they had anticipated, and they needed to know why. They discovered that, for some reason, the slaves weren't being very productive. Jim made a "tsk!" noise. After all that doting, his test subjects were slacking! Jim made eye contact with Tim as he produced a whip from some unknown place on his person. He handled it in front of one of the containment pod windows. The woman who was slacking the most gasped at the sight. She immediately put her phone away and painted like her life depended on it. It very much did.

Tim remained while Jim headed back up the stairs. He foolishly got to thinking, or rather, overthinking. How would he fill his father's shoes? Was he good enough? Insecurity and anxiety filled his mind as he thought about care for his dad, the ever-increasing amount of bills, and maintaining the house. He took a deep breath. Easy now, you'll only stress more, he thought, do you want to end up thinking about dying again? Your dad won't let you out of his sight if you do that. An odd sound in the pipes caught his attention. Clearly, something was broken AGAIN. With a sigh, he joined his father upstairs.

He found Jim taking matters into his own hands. He was chatting with another one of his kids while trying to fix the toilet. Tim cocked his head in confusion. His dad had never been a handyman. The child skipped back into the living room, eager to play with her brother. Tim decided to ask his dad about the repair work.

"Hey dad," he began, "Are you sure that tackling that is a good idea? I could take care of it."

"Nonsense, Tim," Jim replied, "I can't have you do everything for me."

"Okay. How's it coming then?"

"It's coming along . . . ow!" Jim caught his finger in something for a brief moment.

"You okay, dad?"

"Yes, I think so. Do you remember that time you flushed a perfectly healthy fish down the toilet? I was so proud that you were taking after your old man. A killing a day keeps the blues away!"

"Ha! I remember that well. Old Goldie was a little shit. He ate all the other fish. He fucking deserved it."

"That's my boy! You feeling more yourself today?"

"I'd say so, yeah. A night of sleep did me some good."

"Wonderful. Now, if I can just pop this back into place-"

With an odd noise, Jim had finally managed to fix the plumbing . . . just in time for him to piss himself. "Great," he grumbled, "Now I have to shower all over again! Curse my stupid bladder,

and curse my stupid father for passing it onto me!" Tim looked at the shower. It was clearly broken AGAIN. Would they ever get a damn break? Jim sighed and went to change clothes. This time, Tim would do the repair work. His dad clearly needed to rest. Tim let his mind wander, and fantasized about a vacation. How wonderful it would be to travel to a nice island, away from the broken plumbing and utter discord of the house. He shook his head; for now, his dreams of travel would have to wait. He could fulfill them another time. He settled for an extremely sugary bowl of cheap cereal instead, paying no mind to the risk of diabetes it carried.