The Boy Who Would Have Milk

Reads: 554  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
"The Boy Who Would Have Milk" is one of my favorite stories I've ever written. It, like "The Really Dark Story of Bob", was written to make fun of a guy named Michael I used to talk to a long time ago. Literally, this entire story was inspired by the following paragraph, taken from City of Dogs: Episode 2 - Worst of Sinners, Best of Saints, written by the aforementioned Michael:

He poured a bowl of cold cereal, completely devoid of real nutrition, and decorated with cartoons and offers for toys, the kind of thing you read when you’re a child. The cereal was stale, at least the milk was good. When he lived at home all those years ago his mother only purchased low fat milk, now he had the freedom to buy whole milk all he wanted. Strange the liberties you gain when you commit murder and run away from home.

First of all the writing is poor. He uses poor grammar and it just..all around sucks. What I really love is the fact that he randomly inserts this section here. The story is about this man who goes crazy and kills his girlfriend and some of his friends before running from town. Suddenly in the middle, he's fantasizing about whole milk.

Submitted: January 09, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 09, 2008



"Here you go honey, drink your  skim milk"

"But, Mom, that's not even real milk! It's just  watery shit!"

"I know, son, but it's good for you"

Enriqué  got up and ran into his bedroom. Blek Skreet Boiz posters adorned  his  room, the walls black with rust. His dick was like a magnifying  glass. He wanted  milk. Whole milk.

Why the fuck can't I have whole milk? he wondered.

I mean, fuck. It's  got a red  lid, and not pink. Pink is fucking gey. Seriously. He thought  as  he stared, dazed and open-mouth, at his newest Blek Skreet  Boiz poster. It  showed them all naked, holding their dicks like  small tiny pistols.

Enriqué punched the wall, his eyes closed.  When he felt nothing he opened  them, and realized he had indeed  hit the wall; he was just too fucking weak to  feel a thing.

Goddamn it,  he thought, that's so not badass.

Later that day Enriqué  went to fix some cereal. His mom was busy watching  lesbian porn.  He sometimes liked to watch her watch porn, because he was a  creepy  little kid like that.

Anyways, he got on the top shelf and  pulled the red-capped whole milk from  the cupboard. The cool white  liquid sloshed around in his mouth like fresh come. GYAHD how he  loved the taste  of fresh come....not that I'm gay, he assured himself  suddenly  and pushed the thought of Tim Meadows' dick in his mouth out of  his  head.
The whole milk made a milky kind of whole sound as  it covered his Wheaties. He  took a bite and actually expelled  a minute amount of semen into his skin-tight,  black, leather pants.  He wiped his mouth on his pink shirt and took another  bite. The shirt had the words "Real Men Wear Pink" printed across the front. It was, by far his favorite shirt. It was just then that his mother knocked him  out of his chair  with a frying pan. Steaming pork chops splattered all over his unconscious body.
An hour later, when he woke up, Enriqué decided  to change his name for the rest of the story to  Mikey because  Enriqué sucks.

Mikey stirred. His head hurt like a bitch, because we all know that bitches hurt. A lot. It  throbbed like a hard cock. It was  in the midst of that shitty headache that he  made a plan. It was  a compricated pran, and would take lots of time, energy, and  liek,  planning and stuff.

The next evening the plan went into action.  Mikey took a shotgun from his long-dead father's closet. He stared transfixed for a moment as he noticed a cock cream-colored skeleton lying in the back of the closet.

Goddamn he thought to himself. Dad really did have some skeletons in the closet. That's when he noticed the military dog tags around the skeleton's neck. He recognized them because he'd bought them for his father from a gum machine years ago.

He's dead and he still won't come out of the closet he thought. Fag.

He took the gun and loaded it from the bullets his father had kept in  his condom drawer.  He pulled a condom out, opened it, and spread it over the end  of  the gun barrel, to muffle the scream of his dying mother.
He  walked into the kitchen and fixed himself some cereal, with whole milk. His mother sensed this and walked in, ready with the iron.  It was then  that she saw the condom on the shotgun and knew what  it meant. You see, she had  killed Mikey's father the same way.  Pretty fucked up, huh? Yep.

Anyways, he kept eating, slowly, staring  at his aunt. She was transfixed by  his bulging pants, then she  realized it wasn't his penis, he just had a banana  in his pocket.  Literally.

"Um, Enriqué, why the hell do you have a banana in  your pocket?"

"First of all, the name is MIKEY.” he yelled.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. And the banana??”

“All the better to kill you with, MOM!!!"

"NOOOOO....!!!"  but her scream was cut off by the condom.

Mikey thought back  to when he had caught his dad in bed with his sister.  Mikey's  sister, that is.
"Yes, honey! fuck me leik, harder  and stuff! oh daddy! HEYLL SUCCIN YEH!" she had screamed.He'd laughed.
Anyways,  the story.

He turned around. So, then he was facing her. Yep.

She was facing him too, because he had a shotgun. He pointed  at her and she  ran. Just then he threw the banana and, as if by  good aim, it landed in front of  her and she tripped over it. No, she didn't slip. She somehow managed to actually trip over it.  Anyways, she fell  on her titties and one popped.

Stupid plastic surgery she thought as it  hissed  slowly, her dress deflating but she never managed to say "Fucking  cheap  ass boob job," because a bullet magically appeared inside  her chest.

"Fuck, thats creepy," Mikey said "I didnt even shoot  her yet."

But then he did and her ass exploded as the rat shot  tore her ass a new one.  Then he shot 30 or 40 more times, without  reloading, until nothing was left but  a heap of gook.

Mikey  sat at the table, eating cereal with whole milk. Blood dripped down his face into the bowl. He smiled.

T.  H.  E.E.  N.  D.

© Copyright 2020 cactus. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments: