“Spilled Milk” from Exploding A Moment by Barry Lane
I watched myself begin this horrible deed. My hand seemed to suddenly have a will of its own. It picked up the milk carton. The spout was already open. My arm extended over Carol’s head, tipping the carton. The liquid poured in a slow, steady, thick, unending stream down through her long blonde hair, soaking the back of her clothes and running onto the floor. As the milk reached the floor, I shifted the spout slightly to begin another long milky journey down the front of her. It poured over her forehead and into her eyes, running in rivers down each side of her nose, converging on her chin and splashing onto her plate. Her food was soon awash and the milk poured over the edge of her plate and ran into her lap. And still I poured on - it was too late to stop now. The rapture of it all; oh, sweet revenge.
Carol was shocked into absolute silence, her milk-washed eyes staring at me in total disbelief. What had I done? I only meant to pour a little to scare her, and now it was all over everywhere. Her chair was a four-legged island in the middle of a giant white pond on the kitchen floor. How could one quart of milk go so far? For a second or two she didn’t react, and I had a brief but fleeting prayer that she was stunned speechless. Not for long.
“Daddeeeeeee!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound of cocktail glasses being knocked over on the living room coffee table and my father charging around the corner happened almost simultaneously. In an instant he took in the whole scene: horrible big sister pours milk over innocent little sister’s head. I simply couldn’t have looked much worse. It didn’t take any smarts to realize that. I knew there was no hope of explaining my way out of this one. “Guilty” was the immediate verdict of the judge.