Why I do not like milk

I have not slept for two hours, listening to the pulsing clocks.I like any normal five year old boy, suddenly, at night, I wanted to drink milk.And, as time was summer and I was in the village with my grandmother, my fragile mind decided, and why would I, in fact, most do not milk a cow and not to drink straight from the tin.Go to sleep!- I'll cry myself to then.- Sleep on, you little, mindless child!

slide I mean, the bed gently, pulled the tights (do not ha ha, most no longer believe that such times were), shorts, T-shirt and headed for the exit.The algorithm is simple and has been thoroughly studied me.First, I put on the boots of his grandfather.Well put, is, perhaps, to say that I could have the whole time to jump in boots and hide in it.So from the beginning I have everything went wrong, I even could not make a step in this beetle-crusher.But I did not lose heart, because the boots are not the main thing in this business, so I took the bucket and stomped the yard to the cows.

I went into the barn, all of this like a small bucket in his hand with me in size, and there are three assholes look at me, I'm on them, respectively.I stand, so confused, tights tightens, scratch my leg - I can not choose a cow.If I could, I think, a sign filed.And here is that in the middle, insidious creature, tail to the side so how will.In!

I do something for the youth thought it was a sign to me, it submits that, well, I went to the Department of Public Information and the call of this.So, probably, perished sailors jumped overboard when the call of the Sirens.Before I could feel the trouble, and this first beast is something vaguely pshiknuli, and then as I would for a fountain!And what is most offensive - not milk!I do not have time to close his eyes.The only thing that proud, so that stood on their feet, beneath struck me flow.

There was an awkward pause, and then a siren wailed - I have not heard that my grandfather, who became an unwitting witness to my embarrassment, laughed so hard before or after that black day in my career.And on the street, you know, it was good - the birds are singing, chickens running around, the sun appeared on the horizon, and I'm standing in a puddle of my hitherto unknown substance, yelling and "streamlined".I have calmed down in the late afternoon, the washed in the bath, and when the grandfather suffered demonstratively burned clothing.And they are with my grandmother made me promise always to behave well, in exchange for something that does not tell parents about befallen me grief.

Although, maybe it was not all that, but milk I still do not drink.

Articles Source: prikolisti.mirtesen.ru