#gotta bet back onto the comics grind

[pseudopigeons]

Reiju and Sanji Reunion!

my OP Secret Santa gift for @nonoel-art

@op-secret-santa

[centipedall]

The Milkman Cometh

“Sorry baby, did I wake you up?”

“Hmm? No, I woke up a second ago. I had this nightmare… I can’t remember what it was about.”

“Me too. And they say marriage gets boring.” I shot her an invisible smile in the dark.

She got out of bed and said, “Well, I gotta get ready for work. Remember, milkman comes at twelve.”

My blood ran cold. “When did we get a milkman?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“I mean, I’m sure we have one but-”

“But you don’t remember when we got one. Yeah… same here.” She sounded shaken.

“Well, whatever. Gotta hit the daily grind, right? I’ll go see if Fee’s up yet. She’s taking Joey to school today, right?”

“Yep. Thank god she can drive now.”

“No thanks to you.” I winked and gave her a quick hug.

“Which one of us is the hot dog cart salesman?” she asked.

I chuckled and let go, “Cold.”

“Like your hot dogs, dad.” Fiona said from behind us.

“I see you got up especially early today. Is it, like, anti-Father’s Day or something?” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Y’know, where you insult and belittle-”

“We got it dad. Geez, you’re so lame.” She smiled and left the room.

“You’re driving Danny to school today, not Uncle Greg!” My wife called as she left the room.

There was a moan of frustration and I finished getting dressed. I walked down the stairs and went straight to the kitchen. My wife had beaten me there, unfortunately. She had the pantry door open and was rummaging around in there.

“Hey honey? Where’s the food?”

“Whaddaya mean? Shouldn’t it be in the pantry?” I checked with her, and sure enough it was empty. Well, except for some canned milk Greg had bought. Jackass. “Probably one of Greg’s pranks. I’ll see if he put them in the fridge.” I said.

I almost vomited when I opened up the fridge. There was only cheese, yogurt, butter, and milk. And all of it was spoiled. Jesus Christ, I could practically taste it. Like a tsunami of awful that wormed its way into your mouth. Good God, it felt like I was the one rotting.

I backpedaled away from the biohazard, into the other room and onto my favorite comfy chair. “Where are my hot dogs?” I whimpered.

“Oh my God- honey? You alright? Listen, it’s- fuck me it’s already eight? I gotta go. Can you deal with this today? Good God, the client’s gonna be pissed.” She started running towards the door.

“What the hell? Hey, Harry? Can you give me a hand? The door’s not opening.”

I jogged over to her, and sure enough, the door wouldn’t budge. It was like the damn thing was welded in there. I went over to the back and- no dice. If only we had windows, we could- why don’t we have windows?

“Hey honey? I’m gonna go get Greg. See if he’s-” The basement door was wedged shut, just like the others.

“Mom, Dad? I can’t open Danny’s door. I think he locked himself in again!” Fiona called from upstairs. I saw her legs as she started walking down the stairs. “Aw geez, it smells like bad milk down there? Milk… hey, did I mention my weird dream last night?”

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

“Wait, it’s nine already? Shit I’m late for school!” Fiona started rushing down, pinching her nose as she entered the awful ground floor.

“Language, young lady! And the doors don’t work.” She sighed. “Goddamnit, I can’t lose this promotion...” My wife muttered.

“What is it with you and this job? Why are you always chasing promotions? Our son is missing! Your shitty brother is missing!” I yelled at her. “Is it really more important than them?”

She wheeled on me, spitting venom. “You and I both know the only reason we live in this house is because of me. How much money does a hot dog salesman make, again? Is it less than a lawyer?”

“Not funny. When we got married, we said we wouldn’t have this conversation. It is my fucking dream, and it makes me happy. Why can’t you be happy with this? With us?”

“Goddamnit Harry, you know I love you guys! And that’s more than you can say! What about Greg, huh? I know you hate him.”

“Guy’s a slacker, Louise! He farts around in our house all day, pulling his stupid little pranks and costing us money. He’s rubbing off on Danny! Have you seen? The kid’s a wild child!”

“He’s only acting out because you are a shitty dad-”

“What the fuck did you just say? What the fuck did you just say?” I screamed.

“You don’t care about him! I get it, he’s not your biological kid! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love him!”

“Shut the fuck up. I love Danny so much it hurts and you know it. Stop trying to hurt me. Just- just stop.” I sat back down on my chair. “I’m so hungry. I’m so tired.”

“I- me too. This is just such a bad situation I- I’m sorry, honey.”

“I’m sorry too. Do- do you think this has something to do with that dream?”

“I don’t know. God, I hope it doesn’t. I don’t remember much but-”

“Yeah.” I shivered. “Yeah.”

“Hey guys? Is the clock messed up? Because it says it’s ten o’clock already. And nine was like, five minutes ago.” Fiona said.

“I think we have two hours left.” I said. “Your mom said the ‘milkman comes at twelve’ this morning right after we woke up.”

“And what happens then?” Fiona said.

“You remember the dream?” Louise said.

“Only the feel of it. It was bad.”

A silence fell over the room.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“Can we break the door open? If we grab that old lamp in Fee’s room, I bet we can bash the back door down.”

“Aw man. I love that thing, I don’t want it to break.”

“Do you want the milkman to come? Because I don’t think we can get out any other way.” Louise said. Fiona nodded hesitantly.

In a flash, all three of us grabbed the heavy lamp and, with a great deal of pivoting, managed to squeeze it down the stairs. We lugged it over to the back door, and began swinging.

“On three!” My wife yelled. “One! Two! Three!”

The thing slammed against the door and there was a sharp crack. The door split right down the middle. A stench drifted out of the crack. More rotten milk. Oh my God. I would’ve barfed if I had anything in my stomach. As a family, we retreated into the living room.

I glanced at the clock. It was eleven. I sank down into the chair like my entire body was weighted. I was so tired. God, I was exhausted. And hungry.

“So what now?” Fiona asked.

“I don’t know. I- there’s nothing we can do.” Louise said.

I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. A sitcom was on. The theme song played. It was about a family of five. A mom, a dad, a daughter, a son, and an uncle. The dad was dumb, but big-hearted. The mom was smart, but long-suffering. The daughter was a classic teen with too much sense. The son was a wild child. The uncle was the comic relief, a slacker with a love of pranks. I almost threw up.

They laughed and japed. The uncle had collaborated with the son. They had swapped the food in the refrigerator and the pantry and locked all the doors. The other three members of the family ran around like headless chickens. The mom made a joke about how she made all the money. The dad made a joke about how she didn’t love anyone. The mom made a joke about a milkman, and how the kid wasn’t his. I almost threw up.

The family decided that leaving wasn’t worth all the stress. They all sat together and watched TV, like they did at the end of every episode. There was a knock on the door, in the sitcom and in real life. Everyone, TV and real, threw up pure spoiled milk all at once.

I stood up. I walked over to the door. I opened it. The smell almost killed me. There was something out there. A massive, hulking thing. A humanoid, almost, covered in dry cracks and wet holes constantly leaking spoiled milk. The milk flowed both up into the sky and down onto the infinite white plains outside my house. It has no eyes, mouth, or ears, just wet holes that spurted milk like a ship full of leaks. It did have a tiny little paper hat though, perched askew on its head. Below that was a thick, foot long, flopping tongue that sprouted out of the mouthless face. The nostrils were massive too, leaking milk like snot. Jesus, the stuff was chunky. And hairy. I looked down. It had long arms with elbows that reached to its knees so that it could touch the ground standing up. Its hands were huge with no fingernails, just skin with wet holes at the tip of each finger. It had a massive penis, swinging like a pendulum. Spoiled milk leaked. And leaked. And leaked. I was up to my knees in the stuff.

It looked at me with those wet holes, and the tongue flopped wordlessly. I still knew what it was saying. The same thing as in my dream.

Lait, ici.

Fiona, Louise, and I replied.

L’epoux, il est dans la maison.

It screamed. We screamed back.

It nodded to us and left. The milk continued to flow. It sank into my throat. Into my lungs. My nostrils filled with clumps. I drowned in vomit and spoiled milk.

Not the worst way it could’ve gone.