Chocolate Milk Nightmares

Chocolate Milk

My wife’s only liquid vice aside from Coca-Cola.

A small glass of chocolate milk is made by the loving husband each evening then delivered with precision and skill to the grateful wife. At least, that’s the way it is supposed to occur. Tonight, I slave over cold jug and spoon, expertly mix the drink, and shuffle into the bedroom to deliver it to wife who is busily grading schoolwork on the bed. I deliver drink, bow and curtsy sarcastically, then bolt from the room. Approx. 12 seconds later, wife shrieks for me to return to room.

I drop cat that I am preparing to punt across room and head for the bedroom. Wife is holding out glass. “Can you add some more milk to this and stir it up…it is too chocolaty!” I am stunned. Chocolate Milk that tastes too much like chocolate? How absurd! I say nothing, bow apologetically, grab the glass, and shuffle out of the room. I return to kitchen, add about a half-gallon of straight, white milk to the glass and then stir vigorously as instructed. I wander back to bedroom, bow as I enter, then extend the “repaired” chocolate milk to the loving wife. She gasps in horror…”It’s too full! It’s too full!” This perplexes me. I retrieve glass, hold it up, then proceed to chug about 2/3 of the glass in one quick snort. I smile, burp, and then hand glass back to wife. She grimaces again….”It’s too cold! It’s too cold!” I know I can’t win. I again grab glass then place firmly in warm, snugly embrace of my left armpit. I let glass simmer for approx. 3 minutes then smile again and hand glass to wife. “That’s grooooossssss!!! Now I don’t want it anymore!!” she yells as she again thrusts glass in my direction. Knowing I am beat, I lower head and shuffle out of the room. I go to filing cabinet and pull out marriage contract that I signed for her father. I look through all the fine print and can find nothing about providing a glass of chocolate milk each evening. This little luxury that she receives is just an added bonus to the other-worldly joys of marriage that she enjoys as a reward for being married to me.

As I have said before. Some guys cheat, some guys drink, some guys gamble, some guys do all of these at once, and some poor slobs like me are unable to properly make a glass of chocolate milk. What is it about the female mind that makes this offense just as terrible as the others that are listed? I will never know.

And besides, she does not appreciate the sacrifice that other members of the family are making for her milk. Every night at milk-time the cats all scatter in terror, fearing that this is their night to “donate” to the milk jug. (Anything to save a buck or two…)

Do ya’ll have any appreciation for how hard it is to milk a cat?

It’s not easy let me tell ya!

(Lord of the Idiots! Archive)