The dwarves' cottage had once been a charming little home nestled in the forest, but after the chaos of the last few hours, it now resembled the aftermath of a disaster movie directed by a particularly mischievous toddler. Snow White stood in the doorway, her eye twitching as she took in the utter wreckage:
Dirty socks performing synchronized swimming in the stew pot, their little feet flailing in the bubbling broth.
A sentient mold colony on the ceiling, happily waving its fuzzy tendrils at her like it was hosting a garden party.
What appeared to be a tribal war over the last clean spoon, with Bashful wielding a ladle like a battle axe and Sneezy hiding behind a pile of towels, shouting "I CLAIM THE SPOON OF VICTORY!"
"Welcome home!" cheered Dopey, emerging from a mountain of unidentifiable fluff. His face was covered in what appeared to be a mix of flour, mud, and the residue of a potion that had gone terribly wrong.
Snow inhaled sharply through her nose. "It's been... three hours. How?"
Grumpy, who had taken up residence on a throne made entirely of unwashed tunics, crossed his arms with a look that could freeze lava. "We have a system."
"A system?" Snow's voice cracked, teetering on the edge of hysterical disbelief. "This isn't a system! This is a crime scene!"
Doc adjusted his glasses and opened his spellbook with the air of a man ready to defend his life's work. "Actually, our chore distribution follows precise—"
CRASH!
A flying plate shattered against the wall, narrowly missing Sleepy, who was sleeping on the floor and somehow still managed to flinch.
"SNEEZY STOLE MY TURN WITH THE SPONGE!" roared Bashful, brandishing a ladle like a warlord preparing for battle.
Snow slowly turned to Doc, her face falling into her hands. "Precise?"
Doc sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose with a resigned look. "Okay, maybe it's more of an... anarcho-syndicalist commune."
Snow's eyebrow twitched, but she quickly steeled herself. "New rule," she announced, slamming a magically-enforced chore wheel onto the table with a satisfying thunk. "We rotate. Daily."
The dwarves gasped as if she'd suggested sacrificing one of their own to a dragon.
"Rotate?" Grumpy's beard bristled with outrage. "I didn't survive the Goblin Wars to be rotated!"
Snow rolled her eyes. "It's dishes, not dragon slaying."
"Same difficulty level!" chorused six dwarves in unison, as though they'd rehearsed it in their spare time.
Only Dopey seemed intrigued, poking the glowing wheel like it was the best thing he'd seen all year. "Ooooh... spinny..."
FWOOMPH!
Magic sparks flew as the wheel landed on:
GRUMPY - LAUNDRY DUTY
Grumpy turned ashen. "I'd rather lick a troll," he muttered, his eyes narrowing at the thought.
Snow grinned, her arms crossed in smug satisfaction. "Wheel says no."
And so, Grumpy's "laundry technique" was put into motion:
Stuff everything into the cauldron.
Screaming "CLEANSE!" at it as if the cauldron was the personal nemesis he'd been waiting to defeat.
Running away.
The resulting explosion was, as expected, catastrophic:
The dwarves' smallclothes became sentient, arguing over existential questions like "Do I even need to be clean?"
The socks developed migration patterns, attempting to flee in search of a less chaotic existence.
Somehow, only Grumpy's dignity was bleached beyond recognition.
"LOOK WHAT YOU DID!" Snow yelled over the wailing socks and undies, which were now banding together to form an impromptu protest. "What did I say about following the wheel?!"
Grumpy shrugged, unfazed. "Still better than dishes."
Meanwhile, Doc, ever the optimist, attempted to create an automated dishwashing solution using rune stones.
"Let flowing waters—ACK!"
The spell backfired dramatically, summoning a soap elemental that immediately latched onto the nearest piece of cutlery and began proposing marriage in a high-pitched, gurgling voice. The forks, meanwhile, were too busy starting a violent separatist movement in the butter churn.
Snow facepalmed so hard she could practically hear her brain rattling. "We're doomed."
By midnight, the dwarves' cutlery had:
Unionized, demanding better treatment from their owners.
Held a hostage crisis with the knives and spoons barricading themselves in the utensil drawer.
Started a violent separatist movement in the butter churn, with the forks leading a rebellion against the spoons. "We want the butter!" they screeched.
"THE FORKS ARE HERDING THE CHICKENS!" screamed Sleepy as he sprinted past with a pitchfork-wielding spoon hot on his heels.
Snow ducked under a flying ladle. "HOW IS THIS MY LIFE?!"
Doc, flipping through his spellbook, shot a glance at Snow. "Technically, this is your fault for insisting on 'clean eating.'"
BANG!
The sugar bowl launched itself at Grumpy's head with a deadly precision that only an enchanted bowl of sugar could manage.
"RIGHT!" Snow shouted, her patience finally snapping. She grabbed the chore wheel from the table and slammed it down with a thundering force. "NEW RULE: MAGIC BANNED IN THE KITCHEN!"
Seven dwarves gasped in horror. "BLASPHEMY!"
After much turmoil, the sentient gravy was subdued, the cutlery hostage crisis was negotiated, and the underwear—which had put itself on trial for crimes against cleanliness—was acquitted. Snow collapsed at the now-spotless table, breathing heavily.
"Was that so hard?" she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow.
The dwarves grumbled but secretly admired the gleaming home. Even Grumpy grudgingly admitted his socks smelled "less like death."
Then, as if the universe had decided it wasn't done with her just yet, Dopey dropped a single crumb on the table.
Seven dwarves froze. Every single pair of eyes locked onto the crumb as if it were a ticking time bomb.
Snow slowly stood, her hand rising to the heavens in warning. "Don't. You. Dare—"
CHAOS ERUPTED ANEW.
As the food fight raged around her, Snow sighed and grabbed an apple from the nearby counter. Taking a bite, she muttered to herself, "At least the Queen never had to deal with this."
Outside, the magic mirror fragment she'd been using as a coaster on the counter muttered in its usual deadpan tone:
"Actually, she once turned a maid into a mop for less. Just saying."
Snow looked up at the ceiling, her head sinking back onto the table. "I am so done with today."