"Its much like washing dishes" mused Ranma, as he made his way back home after school.
He had seen Kasumi do them before, so he knew exactly what he was talking about. It was a mildly annoying job that had to be done day to day lest it build up and get harder than it should. Sometimes the unthinkable would happen and a dish would break, perhaps a glass or a plate, and you would be stuck cleaning up the mess until you resume the chore the next day.

As Ranma moved over the buildings at speeds few others could match, he casually shouted out insults about pigs and there lack of fighting skill. He honestly didn't even notice or thing about this as he did it, the skills had been engraved into his head at an early age. Sure, sometimes casually and unthinkingly taunting your opponent caused troubles, but most of the time it threw them off balance, and it took him no effort to do. At this stage, it was harder for him to stop.
Every day he repeated the same chores, and he had long ceased thinking about any of the implications his actions held. The same things happened every day, time in and time out, with the occasional blunder that he would simply fix up the next day.
As Ranma considered the description for his life (He knew there was some fancy foreigners words to describe it, but for the life of him he couldn't remember it) he casually punched the noisy pig boy several hundred times in a vaguely amusing pattern that was spaced out enough not to kill the poor boy, but close enough to knock the wind out of him leaving Ranma to continue home.
Today's pattern was a star with a smiley face. Not that anybody but himself would ever know that.

Ranma dropped to ground level to continue home, not even noticing as his body automatically placed Kuno (who had just lept out of an alley proclaiming his love for a certain pig-tailed goddess) in a low earth orbit, hitting the insane kendoist with the exact amount of force needed to knock him asleep without harming him too badly. Kuno really couldn't afford to have more of his brains knocked out, really.

Vaguely making a mental note to turn back male as soon as possible Ranma dodged a barrage of knives, kitchen sinks, and bathing tools that appeared from the wings of a duck as both he and his assailant were splashed with water from the old ladle lady. Casually kicking the duck in the head as he passed (or she as it was now) Ranma got back his train of thought as he leapt over the kitchen wears strewn all over the road.
"Hmm, that's a thought" muttered Ranma out loud. Perhaps he could go easy on everyone tomorrow, and perhaps let them fight him all at the same time. It might even make things interesting.
Realization struck.
That was a bad idea, because Akane would probably try to help him.
And then the dishes would never get done.