StarMan™
Active Member
I was obsessed with the milk man when I was little. I'd wait outside for the truck every day. I was fascinated by the inside of the truck. The milk man was very accommodating at first, but Mum tells me he eventually grew tired of my inquiries.
Dad even made me a little hand-drawn cart to wheel the milk inside.
One day when I misbehaved (I refused to pick up all the lego on the floor), Mum said I couldn't go outside to see the milk man. I had a fucking meltdown.
When we stayed at Nana's, I harassed her milk man as well. He came later in the evening. One night, there was torrential rain and gale force winds, but I still insisted on meeting the milk man. There I was - outside in a storm, wearing an oilskin jacket with my damn cart and a torch - waiting for the fucking milk man.
