Artwork: KDF '19-20

The Time I Got Caught Milking

Author: YMC '21-'22
As seen in: The ▵S=Sf – Si = ∫dQ/T #

One time I was at the farm, milking some cows when Bobby, the guy that owns the farm, comes out running towards me and says not that fucking kid, not that dirt bag fucking kid again. So Bobby’s there waving his rifle at me and then my big brother lunges from the shrubs of our house—we were neighbors with Bobby at the time— and tries to disarm him and Bobby just shoots the guy, just like that boom, Mark my only sibling is dead, and I’m here just trying to collect my milk before Bobby gets to me too. So then my mom comes out from our house screaming “what is this racket” and she sees the body of her oldest child, her only son lying lifeless amongst the crops and she wails and wails but I try not to let it break my concentration because I’m milking those cows three gallons a minute at this point and I feel fucking unstoppable. Bobby’s stand-ing right in front of me now and he pulls up his rifle and points it right at my face when my mom runs between us to block him and pleads Bobby, please, “not my only daughter Bobby”, “she has behavioral disabilities Bobby”, and a bunch of white lies that I was kinda fine with given how close I was to finishing milking that cow. But Bobby’s in a fit of rage at this point, the guy’s losing his damn mind, and he just knocks out my mom with his rifle, giving her an aneurysm that would do her in after a few weeks of internal bleeding. As Bobby continues sprinting towards me, he’s getting so close now, I squirt a bit of milk onto his face, and the cold shock of that sublime celestial substance just snaps him out of his blind fury and he realizes what he’s done to my mom, and Mark, and Bobby just cries, man—Bobby was my father, who had left the household in infancy to set up his business where I couldn’t reach the cows—and he cries like a little baby and then shoots himself while asking the lord to please forgive him, which is kind of poetic actually because I’ve just sealed up the last of my milk jugs. 

I was all alone after that day, no mom, no dad, no Mark, wandering the world aimlessly without a family to call alive, just me and my milk.

It was actually pretty alright.