Tuesday, 5 March 2013

Milk

"I'm sure I put you in the fridge..." I muttered as I hefted the bottle of semi-skimmed milk up from the counter and into said cold-creating device.  That done, I opened the oven and retrieved my dinner, lightly steaming my face and rendering myself temporarily blind as my glasses misted over.

Sometime later, full and a little bit annoyed at the downturn M Night Shyamalamalam had taken moviewise, I returned an empty plate to the kitchen.  Where I discovered the milk bottle, sitting on the counter.

"I know I put you in the fridge," I whispered.  Setting down the plate, I grabbed the wandering container and threw it into the fridge, containing the bastard.  I closed the door on it for good measure.

I turned round to the sink, making sure to glance over my shoulder at the closed fridge, knowing that by simply looking at it I could hold off any shenanigans.  But presently I became more and more pre-occupied with washing my damned plate.  And then I turned back.  The milk had returned!

I ran screaming in horror from the kitchen, and cowered under my duvet.  But I knew the milk was coming after me....

Toppling off the counter.  Splatting on the floor.  Sloshing its way up the stairs.

I peeked out from behind my duvet.  And there it was!  Poised on the edge of my bedside cabinet, having displaced my detritus!  Ready to stave in my skull with its plastic exo-skeleton!  Twas then I fainted.

I drifted through dairy nightmares of evil laughing cows, their eyes red and stabby with evilness.

When finally I awoke, the sun was shining through my bedroom window, and that horrible bottle of milk was nowhere to be seen. I jumped out of bed and scooted down the stairs, pausing momentarily to wonder if it had all been a dream.

In the kitchen I discovered nothing amiss.  Except for an empty bottle of milk.  And a post-it note attached to its side.

"All I wanted was a bloody glass.  Thanks for making me drink from the bottle like an animal!  Yours sincerely, Esther the Ghost."

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