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Description
I opened up the refrigerator, looking for the milk... I was hungry for a milkshake. I scanned the fridge from top to bottom, but to my horror... no milk!!

"Honey?" I yelled. "Yes?" came my wife's voice from the other room. "There's no more milk!" "Oh, yes, I almost forgot," she answered. "Baby Bear accidentally spilled it this morning when he went to get his bran flakes."

"Well," I replied, after much consideration, "How about going to the store to get some? "Sounds good!" she said. Me, my wife and my son, Baby Bear, all got dressed and went to the grocery store to get milk. We figured we'd be hungry when we got back, so we put out three bowls of porridge for later.

We started on our way to the store. Then, suddenly, I spied a hobo lying in a ditch. Surprisingly, she was kind of pretty, for a hobo that is. She had blond, curly hair, and she was really young, almost young enough to be a small girl. But she was still a hobo, no matter what way you put it.

"Disgusting hobo!" I muttered as I walked by. We continued on our way to the store.

When we got to the store, I had a dilemma. Should I get whole or 2% milk? I pondered this for about 15 minutes, and then my wife got fed up. "Just pick a damn milk!" she yelled, attracting negative attention from other shoppers. I was afraid about what she would say next, so we just got soy milk and headed home.

On our way back, Baby Bear pointed something out. "Hey, look, pop," he said. "That filthy hobo is gone!" "Oh, pay no attention to her, son," I replied. "She's probably off robbing somebody's house."

As soon as we stepped inside the house, I knew that something was missing. And then I realized-our porridge was not the way we had left it.

"What the fudgemuffins?" said Baby Bear. "What's going on?" Nobody answered him as we stared in awe at the bowls. Me and my wife's bowls hadn't been completely finished, but a little bit was gone, as if some stupid taste tester had thought it was too hot or too cold or something. But my son's porridge was completely gone.

I was infuriated. Who could do such a thing? To avoid blowing a gasket, I stomped into the living room to rest in my favorite chair. And that's when I lost it.

"For the love of Pete, what the hell is going on here?!" I screamed. My wife entered the room. "Now what is it?" she asked. And then she saw it too. My son's chair was completely demolished.

My wife suggested that we inspect the house for further damage. We explored every nook and cranny. Everything seemed fine... until we walked into our bedroom.

I couldn't believe my eyes! Right there, sleeping in Baby Bear's bed, was the disgusting blond hobo that we had passed on our way to the store! So it was SHE who had eaten the porridge and broken the chair!

She woke up almost as soon as we entered the room. Angry beyond belief, I lunged at her, longing to tear out her liver. She screamed and immediately jumped out the window and ran away. We never saw her again.

Moral of the story: always buy 2% milk.

THE END

Description
I opened up the refrigerator, looking for the milk... I was hungry for a milkshake. I scanned the fridge from top to bottom, but to my horror... no milk!!

"Honey?" I yelled. "Yes?" came my wife's voice from the other room. "There's no more milk!" "Oh, yes, I almost forgot," she answered. "Baby Bear accidentally spilled it this morning when he went to get his bran flakes."

"Well," I replied, after much consideration, "How about going to the store to get some? "Sounds good!" she said. Me, my wife and my son, Baby Bear, all got dressed and went to the grocery store to get milk. We figured we'd be hungry when we got back, so we put out three bowls of porridge for later.

We started on our way to the store. Then, suddenly, I spied a hobo lying in a ditch. Surprisingly, she was kind of pretty, for a hobo that is. She had blond, curly hair, and she was really young, almost young enough to be a small girl. But she was still a hobo, no matter what way you put it.

"Disgusting hobo!" I muttered as I walked by. We continued on our way to the store.

When we got to the store, I had a dilemma. Should I get whole or 2% milk? I pondered this for about 15 minutes, and then my wife got fed up. "Just pick a damn milk!" she yelled, attracting negative attention from other shoppers. I was afraid about what she would say next, so we just got soy milk and headed home.

On our way back, Baby Bear pointed something out. "Hey, look, pop," he said. "That filthy hobo is gone!" "Oh, pay no attention to her, son," I replied. "She's probably off robbing somebody's house."

As soon as we stepped inside the house, I knew that something was missing. And then I realized-our porridge was not the way we had left it.

"What the fudgemuffins?" said Baby Bear. "What's going on?" Nobody answered him as we stared in awe at the bowls. Me and my wife's bowls hadn't been completely finished, but a little bit was gone, as if some stupid taste tester had thought it was too hot or too cold or something. But my son's porridge was completely gone.

I was infuriated. Who could do such a thing? To avoid blowing a gasket, I stomped into the living room to rest in my favorite chair. And that's when I lost it.

"For the love of Pete, what the hell is going on here?!" I screamed. My wife entered the room. "Now what is it?" she asked. And then she saw it too. My son's chair was completely demolished.

My wife suggested that we inspect the house for further damage. We explored every nook and cranny. Everything seemed fine... until we walked into our bedroom.

I couldn't believe my eyes! Right there, sleeping in Baby Bear's bed, was the disgusting blond hobo that we had passed on our way to the store! So it was SHE who had eaten the porridge and broken the chair!

She woke up almost as soon as we entered the room. Angry beyond belief, I lunged at her, longing to tear out her liver. She screamed and immediately jumped out the window and ran away. We never saw her again.

Moral of the story: always buy 2% milk.

THE END